Seeking A Quiet Afternoon

by Tired Old Man

Ch. 1-3: A New Neighbor

The stallion spent the afternoon that day cleaning the shack from top to bottom. Crunch was careful not to get in his way, seeing purpose and determination in the stallion's eyes as he cleaned with a vigor that rivals a whole team of cleaning mares.

He started with the bathroom. As badly as the rest of the shack needed some TLC, Celestia help him if he responds to nature's calling in a disgusting bathroom.

A flurry of hooves, a duster, and a wet rag assaulted the restroom. The mirror was first, the cake of dust upon it completely preventing any meaningful reflection to be earned from it.

As he cleaned it, the mirror began to reveal the features he's been familiar with since he hit 55 just three months ago. His silver fur coat lacked its usual gleam it had, more or less due to the dusty environment. His mane was short and unkept, the color a deep dark crimson reminiscent of the color of deoxidized blood. He remembered it being amber at one point in time, but then...

No, this wasn't the time to dredge up such memories. As he finished wiping the mirror clean, he caught a set of wrinkles forming under his royal blue eyes, reminding him of the many sleepless nights he's had over the years. The eyes went upward towards his horn, with two long cracks running up three-quarters of the length of the horn. He hadn't used it for a long time...nor did he want to. He's been out of practice with magic for over a decade, and he's learned to adapt in that time. Now his horn sits there as a mocking reminder of his foolishness in his youth...mistakes he had no intent on repeating once again.

He finally rested his eyes upon the cutie mark, a pair of surgical sutures over a lacerated heart. A heavy sigh left his mouth, followed by a slam of his forehooves on the sink.

"This damn mark doesn't deserve to be on my flank. Not...not anymore."

A knock on the door broke him out of his melancholic trance. He set the rag and duster on the floor.

"Who is it?" The stallion's voice called out to the front door.

"Howdy, neighbor!" A mare's voice called back, her accent thick with country tones.

He rounded the corner and was greeted by an orange mare, with freckles adorning her cheeks. Her eyes shone a brilliant green, and an image of granny smith apples flew into his head at the sight of them. She wore a striking stetson covering a flowing blonde mane. A saddlebag sat on both sides of her body, both brimming with green and red apples. Her cutie mark, three red apples arranged in a triangle, all but solidified the image of an ideal farm girl in the stallion's mind.

"Oh, er...uh, h-howdy," the stallion stammered, taken back by her smile and cheerful demeanor. He hasn't seen smiles like that in some time.

The faint scent of apples came off her coat and mane, and it was a slightly soothing smell. It snapped him out of his momentary confusion. The orange mare noticed this as the stallion regained his posture.

"Ahem. Judging from your scent and appearance, I take it you come from that apple orchard I passed by on the way here?"

"Yep, Sweet Apple Acres is th' name. Been in my family for generations," she proudly declared.

"Ah, and I imagine your name is as delightfully fruity as the land you work?" he asked, a slight tone of bitterness in his voice which she didn't seem to notice.

"Yessir, th' name's Applejack. If ya don't mind my askin, what's yours?"

He paused for a moment. He wanted to lie about his name, he hated it. It didn't suit him, he kept reminding himself of that. But there was...something about this mare. He couldn't quite place it, but something told him he couldn't lie to her, for she would see right through it. He briefly imagined her as a walking lie detector before clearing his throat.

"It's...Mender. Able Mender, miss Jack."

"Oh, ye don't have to be so proper 'round me. Others like to call me AJ too, if that's easier for ya."

"No no, miss Ja-er, AJ," he said. "Sorry, force of habit being so proper and all."

"Hm, if I didn't know any better I'd peg ya as one o those proper Canterlot folk with yer nice manners."

"Hah, I wish. Being one of those stuffy prim and proper nobles sounds like a slice of heaven compared to what I do," Mender quipped.

"Why do ye say that? Er, I mean, what do ye do for a livin, anyway?" AJ asked.

Another pause. This time Mender strongly considered lying.

"...I'm sorry, but...I'd rather not say."

"Aren't you a doctor or somethin, Mender?" Her question was blunt.

"What makes you think that?"

"Yer cutie mark." She made a gesture to the sutured heart on his flank. "Looks like somethin medically related to me."

"It is, in a sense..." Mender's voice trailed off.

Applejack could sense no lie in his words, but felt a deep, scarring pain in his voice. This was clearly a subject he didn't want to talk about. As much as she wanted to help, prying would get her in more trouble than she wanted.

"Well, that's good enough for me, I guess. So, uh...why did ye move to Ponyville?"

Mender's ears perked up at the question, happy to move on to a different subject. "Oh, well, I wanted to move out of Fillydelphia. Living in an apartment complex around violent, unstable tenants is a pretty good motivator to find somewhere else to live. I read in an ad a week ago about this shack being sold for 100 bits."

"Whoa, this shack was that cheap?!"

Almost on cue, a wooden blind on the kitchen window fell off and clattered onto the porch deck.

"...I take it I don't need to explain why that price is so low now, given this shack answered that for me," Mender remarked, a slight tone of irritation hanging in his voice.

"Yeah, I could already tell. This place looks worse than when our barn was wrecked by bats at our last family reunion."

"Wrecked by bats?" Mender's eyes widened at the notion.

"Yep, fruit bats ta be precise, all in a rainbow of colors too."

"Er, should I be concerned with these fruit bats wrecking my shack?" Mender inquired, now genuinely concerned for the safety of his ramshackle home.

"Naw, you don't have ta worry about them. Heck, I'd be more worried that anything else would topple your home!" Applejack spoke, a small smirk forming on her face.

"I suppose that is true," he spoke witha sigh, "I really do need to get this shack repaired...assuming it doesn't fall down the moment I try to fix it."

"Well, if ye ever need any assistance with that, just gimme a holler and I'll come help. No sense bein a stranger to a friendly neighbor, after all!" She smiled with a sincerity that warmed Mender's heart, just for a moment.

...wait, AJ just called him a friendly neighbor. Hah, this place is already ten times better than his old Fillydelphia apartment, just from those words alone!

Clearing his thoughts. Mender nodded to the offer. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some cleaning to do."

"Sure thing, Mender...oh! A little welcoming gift for ya."

She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out three apples, setting them down in the doorway. With a nod of thanks from Mender, she turned around to resume her duties. Mender closed the door to resume his cleaning in turn.

"Shoot. There's somethin else I needed ta tell him about," she mumbled to herself as she walked away. "Ah well, he'll figure it out sooner or later."

Author's Note:

Hiya folks. Old Man here.

I got real tired of having this stallion talk and act without a name or description by this point. Man, in such a colorful world as this, writing so generically was a pain in the ass. Ah well, I still have a few mysteries left in store for Mender, at least.

I also figured AJ seemed like a good pony to talk to first, on account of proximity to the acres, anyhow. Though that should bring up some concern regarding three other notable fillies...oh consarn it, that's a spoiler! Pretend you didn't see that.

Comments

[Rye Bread]

When reading your description of Able- silver grey with used-to-be-amber-but-is-now-dark-oxyless-blood-red- my brain sorta auto filled with TDR's Jer'rhad Kaisur. By the cracked horn he had pushed that out of the way and became his own character (pretty impressive, he won a fight before he was named). The fire scene was disturbingly well done, it made me flash back to the futile search for the cat in the first house fire. Overall, I am thoroughly enjoying your writing. A few years late finding it, but that's the beauty of words- they wait around and outlast us all.