A Prose By Any Other Name

by Jarvy Jared

XV: A Worrisome Night

Rarity and Applejack were once again on lookout duty for the night. They decided to cover the northern edge of Ponyville, taking up watch on the path facing towards Canterlot. Little activity had been noticed; it seemed that Opacare had no intention of making himself known any time soon.

“‘Police still in the dark on how Prose vanished,’” Applejack read from the town’s newspaper. “‘Little information has been obtained, and hypotheses are rare. Mayor Finch says he has his best stallions on the case, and hopes to dig up something soon.’” She let out a sigh. “Prose oughta have a Cutie Mark for hiding instead of some writing thing.”

Rarity nodded in agreement. “Indeed. One would think that someone from Manehattan wouldn’t be this quiet!”

Applejack frowned at that. “Ah suppose that doesn’t include Dusk?”

Rarity gave her a confused look. “And what exactly do you mean by that, Applejack?”

She pulled her stetson down, covering her face somewhat. “Nothin’ much. Just that Ah don’t completely trust him yet.”

Rarity huffed. “That’s because you didn’t see him at the party.”

“Neither did you!”

“I already had personal experience with Prosa! And besides, Sweetie told me how he was during the party; very much a gentlestallion! Even apologized to Twilight!” She glared at the orange pony. “In my eyes, that marks somepony who is willing to own up to his mistakes. Unlike our friend, Rainbow Dash!”

Applejack snorted. “I doubt that Rainbow Dash could be a gentlemare if she tried!” She glanced out the corner of her hat. “Still, though, he’s hiding something!”

Rarity sighed. “Applejack, darling, I know you’re the Element of Honesty; but ponies have secrets, and it wouldn’t be very gracious of us to pry into them.”

“Whatever you say, Miss ‘Fake Eyelashes,’” Applejack responded, turning away and smirking to herself while Rarity silently fumed.

The banter continued for a little while, though Rarity thought she felt a third presence nearby. She quickly dismissed the idea, thinking that it was just a figment of her imagination. It was only sometime later that Applejack recalled something important.

“Say, wasn’t Prosa supposed to meet us here for lookout duty?” she asked with a frown. “Ah haven’t seen him leave his house.”

Rarity also frowned. “You’re right. I wonder where he is?”

“Probably late.” Applejack snorted. “Ah wouldn’t past him to shirk past his duty.”

Somepony laughed—it sounded vaguely forced—, but it was neither of them. They gasped in surprise, before turning around.

There, standing next to the brick wall that served as Ponyville’s northern gate, was Dusk Prose. He wore his ash-grey cloak, the hood pulled down, revealing his smirk. His carnation eyes danced with amusement at Applejack’s statement. The waning moonlight glided across his frame, like a windy veil.

“Rarity and Applejack. Miss me?” he asked, still smirking. Yet his cocky grin was not as strong as Rarity had been accustomed to seeing. Something in it had cracked, weakening it, and she could tell he was trying to bottle something in.

“W-what the?” Applejack stammered. “How—how did you get behind us?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You missed me.”

“How?” Rarity asked. “Your house is just ahead! There is no way we could have missed seeing you!”

He nodded. “Indeed. You are quite capable of seeing me.” He raised a questioning eyebrow. “But did you observe?”

“What the huh?” Applejack asked, glaring at him. “Y’all better explain yourself, mister!”

He trotted forward casually, pointing a hoof out towards his house. “You were so busy looking at the front door,” he explained, before waving his hoof over, “that you missed seeing me leave by the back. You must widen your gazes and consider all possibilities when on stakeout.” He shook his head. “No wonder Twilight needed me to help out. You’d have missed a rampaging centaur who could steal magic with your levels of observation.”

Applejack spluttered, completely taken aback by how casually the stallion had pointed out their blunder.

He placed a hoof on his chin. “Forgive me, that was hyperbole. I would hope that nopony misses a rampaging centaur.”

He took his place next to Rarity, calmly settling down, watching the moon rise. Rarity eyed him in quiet contemplation. He seemed less guarded, his shoulders less stiff in the joints. In fact, his whole figure seemed less cold.

Perhaps it has something to do with that party? Or was it something more?

“Like what you see?” His sudden voice and slightly mocking tone brought her out of her thoughts. She blushed, and fanned herself, while he winked at her playfully. Applejack couldn’t help but guffaw at her friend’s predicament.

“Oh, hush, Applejack!” Rarity exclaimed, glaring at her friend. “You’re the pony who missed Prosa leaving!”

“You did too!” she retorted.

“Well, maybe I would have seen him if you hadn’t been bothering me about him!”

“Says the pony who apparently has something to give to him!”

“I’m not the one bad-mouthing him, am I?!”

“No; you’re the pony who’s defending somepony suspicious!”

Prosa raised an eyebrow. “Ladies, I’m literally right here.”

They clamped their mouths shut, turning their heads and meeting Prosa’s unamused gaze with sheepish grins. “Eh heh heh… sorry about that…” Rarity apologized. Applejack blushed and stammered out an apology as well.

Rarity quickly changed the subject, “So, did you enjoy Crusading for the first time?”

A troubled expression crossed his features. His stiffened, the smirk fading and his barriers being lowered. “Initially, I did. But then…” He proceeded to tell them what had occurred with Dinky and the bullies. They nodded understandingly as he finished, Rarity with a look of disgust.

“That dreaded Diamond Tiara! It’s bad enough that she makes fun of Sweetie Belle and her friends for being blank flanks; but calling Dinky those names?” She huffed angrily. “I say, it really riles me up!”

Dusk raised an eyebrow. “Yet, nopony seems to have done anything to stop her for good. Why? Are ponies scared of her father?”

Applejack shook her head. “It’s not like that, Prosa. Here in Ponyville, we pride ourselves on not lowering ourselves to the level of bullies.”

“What, fighting back is the definition of bullying?”

“If fightin’ becomes violent, yes.”

Dusk scowled. “When did standing up for oneself suddenly become the same as being a bully?”

“Ah don’t know. You’re the one who yelled at them.”

“Anypony would have, so long as they have sense.”

“Anypony with sense would have realized that doing so sets a bad example for our young ones!”

“Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, and Filthy Rich are already doing that!”

Applejack sighed and leaned back. “That may be so… and I actually agree with you on that. But there comes a point where ya have to compromise in order to keep peace. We don’t want fillies and colts growing up thinking violence is the first option.”

He looked away, something akin to shame in his eyes. “No, we do not indeed.”

The conversation drifted back to the task at hand—watching—with Dusk giving out a few helpful tips. He managed to assist Rarity in several small observations, such as how the distant redwood tree was mildly waving in the nightly breeze. Even Applejack began getting a hand on the art of observation, much to her surprise and somewhat chagrin. Their skills were still nubile and immature, paling in comparison to his; but it was a start. Gradually, Applejack begrudgingly began to take a different look on Prosa. Sure, he was a strange pony; but she found herself suddenly warming up to him.

Rarity was curious, however, on how Prosa had even gotten such knowledge of the skill. “I’m surprised,” she said, looking at the stallion with wide eyes. “The only times I’ve heard of this observational deduction were in books!”

“Oh? What kind of books?”

She began listing them off, starting with several mystery novels—most notably, Sherlock Hooves—as well as recent releases. “Come to think of it, there was a new series that came out that I’ve heard had the main character uses a similar method?”

He raised an eyebrow. “And what was this character’s name?”

“I believe it was Trent Collins,” she answered.

Dusk immediately stiffened, and the two mares were quick to notice this. “Is something wrong?” Rarity quickly asked.

He shook his head. “No, no. I was just… thinking…” His answer didn’t sound convincing. Rarity was about to press harder, but then he continued: “I… learned this from a detective from Manehattan—a close friend of mine.”

Applejack gave him a curious look. “A ‘friend?’”

Dusk gave a bitter sigh. “Well, he’s more of an old acquaintance now. We… drifted apart, after some time…”

Rarity and Applejack shared a look, both tempted to ask further. However, as Dusk now had a faraway gleam in his eyes, the two concluded that heading down that path would likely be harsher than it appeared. They returned to looking down the road, eyes searching.

The silence between the three grew to become uncomfortable; the need to discuss anything was high. Rarity decided to try at a different angle with Prosa. But she didn’t want to discuss small things, such as gossip; something about the stallion suggested that he was not fond of small talk.

Well, it’s a good thing I don’t just gossip, she thought.

“Have you any idea on what we should be looking out for?” she asked Prosa.

He blinked, coming out of his thoughtful gaze, giving her a somewhat confused expression. “What do you mean?”

“For Opacare. Do you have any hints, any tips, besides careful observation?”

He frowned. “Nopony in Ponyville knows what to look for?”

“Well,” said Applejack, joining in on the conversation, “apparently Prose had managed to hide from the public for a while now. Seems like he had some help in making sure he didn’t have a face.”

“So nopony knows what he looks like?” he clarified. As Rarity nodded, he closed his eyes, and seemingly said a small prayer of thanks.

Strange, the alabaster unicorn thought. “Princess Celestia has said that we should be searching for stallions with anything writing related as their Cutie Mark.”

His frown returned. “That is… incredibly specific.”

Applejack gave him an incredulous look. “Specific? There could be a thousand stallions with those Marks!”

“But how many would have a Mark that was related to actual writing?” he argued. “Sure, there a few stallions who would have Marks in, say, scroll-writing, but how many would have the essentials of writing? Like, quills? Or ink? Or pens, or—” As he listed off some more possibilities, Rarity detected a large of amount of worry creeping into his voice.

Something occurred to her. Neither she nor Applejack had mentioned the possibility of Opacare’s Mark literally being writing-related—i.e., being the materials that made writing possible. Yet, Prosa here had somehow deduced that there was indeed a probability that such a Mark existed. But he hadn’t seemed like he had known Princess Celestia’s words, and had been caught off guard by her advice.

How did he know? she silently asked herself. Either that was an incredible amount of deduction, or something else is at play. But for the life at me I can’t figure it out!

“Dusk,” she said, interrupting his ramble, “how did you know that Opacare Prose would have quills, or ink, or pens, or anything that can be considered a writer’s item, as his Mark?”

He paused, mouth agape. His pupils shrunk to miniscule sizes, shot with fear and apprehension. “I-I-I never said that he did have a Mark as I described,” he stammered.

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “You suggested the possibility, Prosa. But none of us had ever considered thinking about it that way.”

“W-well, it was pretty obvious.”

“Really? So how come the Princess didn’t think that?”

“M-maybe she wasn’t thinking like how I was thinking?” he responded, voice sounding strained.

That, surprisingly, made Rarity paused. While she held Princess Celestia in high esteem, she had to admit that some of her antics were… less than regal in nature. The incident at the Gala rose to mind, and as she saw Applejack’s brow scrunch up, she guessed that she had thought the same thing. Certainly, Her Royal Highness was wise; but even she, despite all she had seen and observed, was still a pony. She could make mistakes, and miss things of great importance.

Perhaps, then, she hadn’t thought as Prosa had, because she never needed to, nor had she ever wanted to—nor, known to.

Still, though, that didn’t quite answer how Prosa had made such a guess. It seemed too specific of an answer to be a shot in the dark; but then again, perhaps she wasn’t thinking as Dusk was thinking. Glancing at Applejack, she concluded the same for her friend; they simply could not “think” as Dusk.

“I… see,” Rarity finally said after a few moment’s pause. “So… it was a lucky guess with a bit of deductive reasoning, then?”

Dusk let out a sharp, relieved breath, nodding. “You could say that,” he said, a bit too quickly, turning away.

Rarity could have sworn she then heard Prosa mutter a curse about Opacare, but his voice was soft and distant, so she thought little of it. “Is there anything else you can give us?” she asked.

He sighed, slightly hesitant. “… Maybe. Statistically speaking, we ought to be looking for a stallion of medium build. Certainly, we won’t be seeing anypony as large as, say, Applejack’s brother.”

“And why is that?” asked the orange earth pony.

“We know he’s from Manehattan. And the average size of stallions there is… well…” He raised a hoof to his head. “My height.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “So ya are from Manehattan.”

He shrugged. “No point in denying it.”

“And you’ve somehow managed to calculate the average height of the stallions in Manehattan?” Rarity asked.

“I’ve had a lot of free time,” he simply said, though there was a hint of a chill to his voice.

Rarity placed a hoof on her chin in rumination. “So, we’ve established that Prose likely has some sort of ‘writer’s item’ as his Mark; and that he’s about medium height.” She sighed. “To be honest, that’s not much to work with.”

He nodded. “That’s all I’ve got. But, I am curious: why?”

The question caught the fashionista off guard. “Why what?”

“Why does everypony seem to care about Prose?” The question had something hidden behind the words, but Rarity couldn’t discern what.

She pursed her lips, considering her answer. “Well… he was famous.”

“And?”

“I would imagine that when a famous pony goes missing, it would stir up some sort of controversy.”

His frown deepened into a concerned grimace. “Is that it?”

Rarity shook her head. “Far from it. Manehattan hadn’t had any disappearances in years; so this, coupled with the fact that Prose was so well known, was shocking.”

He looked away, scowling. “Don’t tell me the only reason Equestria cared for that arrogant cad just because he was famous!”

She was shocked by the sudden vehemence in his voice. “Goodness, no! I was not suggesting that!” she said, trying to calm him down. “There’s more to it than just a famous pony going missing!”

“Really?!” he asked bitterly. “Do tell, then.”

Applejack decided to speak up, “Look, it was the right thing to do. Somepony goes missing, and it don’t matter who it is, ponies are gonna be on the lookout for him.”

“Does one life really warrant so much effort?”

Though he asked in a sharp tone, both mares detected a hint of desperation, even a pleading edge to his voice, almost as if the answer was something he desperately needed—and yet did not want.

“Dusk,” Rarity said quietly, “all lives warrant care.”

He took a short while to think on her simple response. The moon had reached its peak in the sky, the light finally delving into a pale night. Soon the sounds of nightly creatures filled the air; somehow, they brought a sense of tranquility over them.

Dusk finally looked back at the mares, his eyes filled with a sudden pain. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He turned away, his navy-blue mane flowing somewhat in the nightly gale.

“Dusk?” Rarity asked, concerned. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “Yes. Sorry. I just…” He sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. “When it comes to these kinds of things… I’m very passionate about them.”

Rarity smiled. “It’s okay, Dusk. That just means that you care deeply for others.”

Her words sparked something in him, and he turned to face her, eyes wide and surprised. For a moment, a tentative silence hung between them, and Rarity thought she had said something wrong.

And she realized she likely had, for no more words were said. Dusk had retreated back into his mind for good.

As with many nights before, though, the guard turned up nothing. No speck, nor smidge, nor bit of Opacare Prose had been unearthed by any of the guards stationed in Ponyville. Rarity and Applejack were, understandably, disappointed; but Prosa, on the other hoof, seemed quite content. They all packed up their belongings, and bid each other silent farewells, returning home.

The day’s events weighed heavily on Prosa’s mind. It surprised him that, even in a cheery town like Ponyville, malicious intents still lingered. For some reason, it occurred to him that he could be the harbinger of such intents; after all, his past was littered with some dark methods and practices. As he stepped into his house, the weight increased, and he hunched over, his mind consumed by bleak thoughts.

With every step I take forward, the past approaches. Why can’t I ever run away far enough? How long until it finally lets up?

It will never let up. Not until this is all over. Not until I am all over. Not until Dusk Prosa has also vanished…

He let out a depressing sigh, walking up the steps. Entering his room, he saw that the blank scroll, black inkwell, and blue quill remained, still untouched. His mind was still clouded and muddy; yet now he felt a desire to write.

He sat down at the desk, looking down at the scroll. All his writings up to now had been mostly formal, regarding the status of the operation. But now? Now all he wanted to do was talk. To speak, to converse, with somepony more than an ally…

He wanted to let a friend know him.

He chuckled darkly. How long had it been since he had written anything remotely creative? Weeks? He briefly wondered if perhaps his writing would come sloppily, and nearly considered giving up before he began, thinking that it would be pointless to try.

And yet…

And yet, he had to. Writing was Dusk’s therapy. It always had been, ever since foalhood.

Ever since his parents had died.

Ever since he had discovered why he needed to draw blood from his veins.

Ever since he had embarked on a dangerous path.

Ever since he had fled the life he had known.

Through the days, weeks, months, and years of his life, through every change and every disturbance; writing remained his one constant, the one thing he could count on to be there for him.

My past is filled with mistakes, and darkness, and errors… but writing remains the brightest light I have ever found.

He picked up the quill, a feeling of familiar confidence racing across his body. This was his element; this was his expertise. There was no need to fear writing. All that mattered was to get the words out. He placed the tip to the paper, and began to write to his friend.

Dear Raven Lock…

Author's Note:

And so ends the unofficially named Life In A Day arc, in which we see several climactic events occur. The story is now approaching its final stages, in preparation for the upcoming sequel. However, there are still a few twists and turns that will show up. I hope you all look forward to seeing them!