A Prose By Any Other Name

by Jarvy Jared

VII: Business

Dusk Prosa groaned. No doubt that the meeting with Twilight was going over in the unicorn’s head repeatedly. If he was lucky, she would hound him for questions; if he was unlucky, she would still hound him for questions.

Why can’t I ever get lucky?

He sighed. It was only a matter of time before somepony started asking around, and he knew that he couldn’t dodge the questions forever. Sure, he was good at it; but, if Twilight was as smart as the papers said, then he wouldn’t be able to keep up the farce for long.

It was two days after his initial awakening, his fifth day in the hospital. By now, he had mostly recovered. The first bandages he had on had been removed, and he was now capable of moving his limbs without feeling them pop and hiss in agony. His ribs still ached, but not as much as they did before, so he could move around without being paralyzed by jolts of pain. Of course, that didn’t stop Nurse Redheart from teasing him about his squeaking; the ribs still pushed up into his lungs, and whenever they did, a slight squeak shot out of him.

He sighed. As annoying as that nurse was, he had to admit she was the most amusing thing he had found in this town.

He got up from his bed, glancing at his flank. It was still blank, even after all the baths and washes he had to take. He let out a slow breath of relief, thankful that his farce still held. He grabbed his belongings, habitually checking the contents of his bag. He frowned as he counted the syringes. One of them was missing.

He sighed. Twilight. Of course she would take one of them. He smirked. Didn’t think stealing was part of her M.O. As he looked at the sharp objects, he felt his heart suddenly beat faster. Quickly he closed the bag’s top, obstructing the syringes from view. He let out a slight breath, hating himself for feeling that way.

He slung the bag over his shoulder, taking a final glance around. Against his own reason, the room had nearly become a second home to him. Despite his nervousness around the needles and such, he couldn’t help but feel a somewhat kinship with the place.

They say that a stallion grows comfortable with the place that takes care of him, he reflected, smirking. ‘They’ certainly know what they’re talking about.

His cloak and vest were still in bad shape. The hospital had been too busy to send them out for repairs. He didn’t mind, though; he had grown comfortable with the holes during his week in the wilderness. Nonetheless, he resolved to have them sewn together soon; after all, he looked better in full clothes than in tattered fabrics.

He was unsure what to feel, now that his release from the hospital was moments away. A certain ache filled him, rendering him slightly numb. A part of him wanted to stay here, perhaps because it was a safe haven; but he knew that he couldn’t. It was safer for him, and for others, if he were released from the hospital. Still, though, he could not help but remember his time here.

Hospitals have never really been my place of comfort. Ponyville’s Hospital seems to challenge that notion.

He shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. Moving forward was of utmost importance. He shuffled the bag around his shoulder, letting it rest easy, before walking out.

A few other hospital staff watched him with slight unease. He ignored their wary looks, instead focusing on two individuals who waited at the front desk.

Doctor Irons smiled. “Well, our favorite mysterious stallion is up and about!”

Dusk nodded. “Ready to be released, Doctor.”

Redheart smirked. “Eager to be free, Mr. Prosa?”

He glared at her, though there was a hint of warmth in his eyes. “Don’t ask such obvious questions, Nurse.” She simply rolled her eyes, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

Irons chuckled. “It’s a good thing that you’ve recovered, Mr. Prosa. And in such a short while.”

Prosa smirked. “Told you I’d be out soon.”

“Mmm. A case of self-fulfilling prophecy, huh?”

“Perhaps.”

Irons gazed into Prosa’s eyes. The pink orbs stared intensely at him, and somehow through him. Neither said a word for a few moments, the two reaching a silent agreement. The other hospital staff regarded them with confused stares.

Prosa did not waver under the gaze of the doctor, but the stares he received from the entire facility was beginning to get to him. This little game will have to be put on hold. He mentally sighed; if it weren’t for the circumstances, he would have played with the doctor for hours.

“… Papers,” he briskly said, allowing his gaze to move somewhere else.

Irons nodded. He reached into his coat and brought out several forms for Dusk to sign. He handed the stallion a quill.

As Prosa signed his signature, he felt his flank suddenly shudder. He chanced a glance, and nearly cursed at what he observed. A slight glow could be seen near where his Mark should have been. He quickly finished signing, and the glow receded. He paused, glancing around. Doctor Irons, Nurse Redheart, and the rest of the hospital did not seem to have noticed.

“How much?” he suddenly asked.

“Hm?” Irons asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Bits. How much do I have to pay for my stay?”

Irons blinked. “… Er, Mr. Prosa, the stay was free.”

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “What.”

The doctor nodded, a smirk coming across his features. “What, is that different from the hospitals you’re used to back in Manehattan?”

Prosa did not outwardly show any response to the doctor’s question, and Irons dropped the issue. Inwardly, Dusk cursed himself for being so careless. The doctor was smart; there was no way that he could have kept that part secret for long.

“Anyway,” the doctor continued, “it seems to me that everything is in order. Have you your belongings?”

“Yes.”

“Remember, should something go wrong out there, you’re free to come back here.”

“Who’s saying something will go wrong?”

Irons looked at him knowingly, and lowered his voice so that only he, Dusk, and Nurse Redheart could hear him. “You’re hiding something, Dusk Prosa. And, eventually, we will find out. But, remember this; secrets can bring unimaginable pain.”

Again, Dusk kept a stoic outward expression; yet, inwardly, he was beginning to grow worried. He decided to try for a bluff. He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “Then it would serve you well to not pursue me.”

Irons was not perturbed, but did drop the issue. He said a few final words to Dusk, along the lines of “proper medical attention” and “getting enough rest.” Dusk waved away his concern dispassionately.

He made to leave, but paused when he reached the door. “This was my favorite vest and cloak,” he murmured. He glanced over his shoulder. “Know any good seamstresses in town?”

Nurse Redheart smiled slightly. Those eyes of his still unnerved her, and she was quick to formulate a response. “Try Rarity’s Boutique. It’s a purple building near the center of town.”

Prosa nodded his thanks, and, after a final glance around, walked out.

“Doctor, are you sure about this?” Redheart asked.

Irons sighed. “Letting him roam free? No.” He stared after the grey stallion. “He’s harboring something. Something… dark. A secret.” He sighed. “But no amount of hospital stay is going to uncover whatever it is he’s hiding. And for his sake… I only hope that somepony uncovers it soon.”

Nurse Redheart nodded at his words. After a few more seconds of staring, they soon returned to work, with the hospital quickly getting over the absence of its most mysterious patient.

Dusk didn’t get off the road from the hospital before bumping into trouble.

No, he did not somehow end up in a tangle with a vicious cobra.

No, he did not suddenly get chased by a stray mental patient.

No, he met Pinkie Pie.

Prosa had run from wolves, gotten near frostbite, and nearly died on his way to Ponyville. Yet all that could not have prepared him for the exuberant party mare’s antics.

“Surprise!” Pinkie shouted as she fired her party cannon at Dusk’s face. The stallion jumped and yelped in complete shock, nearly tossing away his bag. “Oops! Sorry; too much confetti!” Pinkie giggled.

Dusk struggled to catch his breath. “What the actual hell?!” he exclaimed, glaring at Pinkie.

“Aw, that’s not a nice word!” Pinkie trotted over, an oblivious smile on her face. “I’ll just assume that you said ‘What?’ As in, ‘what was that?’” She stood on her hind hooves, stretching her arms up. “That was my welcoming cannon fire for you, Dusk Prosa!”

“How the hell do you know my name?! I don’t even know you!” He picked himself up, regarding Pinkie with a cold glare.

“There you go using that word again!” She leaned in close. “Careful, now; wouldn’t want any fillies to start using that word.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Twilight Sparkle told me!”

He sighed. “Of course she did. That would make you—”

“Pinkie Pie! Party mare extraordinaire!”

Dusk rolled his eyes. “Whoop-de-freaking-do.”

She looked at him with an expectant smile. He regarded her with a frown, eyes narrowed. She didn’t seem unnerved by the ferocity that shone in his orbs. “What?” he finally asked.

“You’re welcome!”

“For what?”

“For surprising you and making you smile!”

He narrowed his gaze even more. “One: I did not smile.”

“Really?” She cocked her head. “I could have sworn I saw your lips twitch.”

“It’s called a frown, Miss Pie,” he said coldly. “Two: Did it occur to you that maybe it was a bad idea to surprise me?”

She frowned. “What? What do you mean? Surprises are always a good thing!”

“A good thing?” He laughed coldly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose that if I suffered cardiac arrest from the sudden shock, that would also have been a good thing!”

“Cardiac whatnow?”

“Oh, gods, she’s dumb too…” he muttered, shaking his head. “You should be thankful that I don’t suffer from a weak heart, Miss Pie.”

Her optimism returned, and her smile beamed even brighter. “And I am! Because now I can throw you the best ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party ever!”

He sighed, not bothering to protest. He had heard stories of Pinkie’s exuberance, but this… this was just plain crazy. And he could not deal with it right now; not when there were other things to be done.

“Just… which way to the Boutique?” he asked.

“Oh! That’s easy! Just go down the path and head left!” she answered, still holding her smile. “In fact, I’ll go with you!”

He tried to protest, but was cut off every time by Pinkie. He sighed angrily, rubbing his temples. “Fine, whatever. Let’s just go.”

As they made their way towards Ponyville, Pinkie asked, “By the way, what’s this cardiac arrest you talked about?”

“Ask somepony who cares to answer,” he responded darkly. She didn’t seem bothered by his tone, choosing instead to follow him into town.

As they entered the town, Dusk was bombarded by Pinkie’s questions. She asked about anything; from where he came from, what he was doing in Ponyville, heck, even his favorite color was called into question! He did his best to navigate his way through Pinkie’s curiosities, answering only enough to satisfy, yet carefully concealing the full answer. His half-truthed answers only served to heighten her curiosity.

“Come on!” she pleaded. “You can tell me where you came from!”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to be your friend! And friends tell each other where they came from, don’t they?”

He scoffed. “There are things I’d rather keep private.”

“Aw. I Pinkie Promise not to tell anypony!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Pinkie Promise?”

She nodded, and proceeded to go through the motions. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye, I won’t tell anypony where you came from!”

He stared at her for a few moments, before looking away. “… Nah.”

“Aw, why not?” she complained, much to his annoyance.

“Because I reserve the personal right of omission of personal details that would inadvertently increase the amount of notice I would get.”

“Oh! So you don’t want to?”

He stared at her for another second. “… Yes.”

“Oh, okay!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “Alright, you can tell me when you don’t have that right anymore!”

He narrowed his eyes, unsure if the mare was joking or being serious. “I intend to fight to keep that right, Miss Pie.”

They eventually reached Rarity’s Boutique, much to Dusk’s relief. He doubted he would last another fifteen minutes with Pinkie. While the mare bounced at his side, Dusk knocked three times on the door, trying his best to patiently wait.

“It’s open!” a voice sang out from the inside.

Dusk blinked. That’s… do they even lock their doors here? Shrugging, he pushed the door open. By instinct, he stood to the side, letting Pinkie past. The pink mare stared at him in shock, before bursting out in smiles. “Aw, you don’t have to do that!”

He rolled his eyes. “Crazy or not, you’re still a lady, Miss Pie.”

She giggled, and entered, Dusk quickly following behind. Pinkie went into the back while Dusk waited at the front of the Boutique. He saw a row of mannequins standing by the windows, covered with sample dresses and clothes.

“Oh, hello, Pinkie!” a female voice greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually, I was just helping a friend get here!” Pinkie answered excitedly.

“Oh? Then why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”

Pinkie reappeared from the back, and Dusk saw a white unicorn following her. They stopped in front of him. “Oh, hello!” the white unicorn greeted. “You must be Pinkie’s friend!”

Dusk raised an eyebrow. “Yeah… ‘friend.’” He held out a hoof to shake. The unicorn took it in earnest. “You must be…”

“Rarity, dear,” Rarity answered, smiling at him. He simply nodded at the introduction. “And who might you be?”

“Prosa. Dusk Prosa.”

He noticed her smile waver ever so slightly at his name. He frowned. “Is something wrong, Miss Rarity?”

“W-wrong? Why, no, nothing’s wrong,” she said, flustered. “It’s just… well… weren’t you in the… well…”

“Hospital?” He smirked. “I’m out now. Discharged.”

“I-indeed you are,” she said. “A-and what brings you to my humble Boutique?”

“A request,” he answered. He reached over his back, where his garments and bag were carried. Rarity seemed unnerved as his hoof drew closer to the bag. He went past it, grabbing his cloak and vest. He turned quickly, and caught the unicorn’s relieved look. He did not mention this, however, and chose to plow on ahead.

“Nurse Redheart said you’re the best seamstress in town. Is that correct?” he asked.

“W-well, I, I wouldn’t call myself the best.” At that, she couldn’t help but smile slightly. “But, I am pretty good.”

He nodded. “You had better.” His tone seemed threatening, and Rarity immediately felt under pressure. “I would like my cloak and vest restored as soon as possible, thank you.”

She levitated the items over to a nearby table, not once averting her gaze on Dusk. “Certainly, Mr. Prosa. Anything else?”

He was about to answer, but paused. His eyes darted around, and his ears swiveled.

“What’s up, Dusk?” Pinkie asked.

He stepped away from the group, constantly shifting his gaze around. Slowly, he approached the stairs, seemingly intending to go up it. To any other pony, there didn’t seem to be anything on the stairs.

“Um, Mr. Prosa!” Rarity protested. “That’s private quarters—”

“Eep!” a filly squeaked. Dusk was caught off guard, and recoiled in slight shock. As he stepped back, a blurred, white shape scampered up the stairs to another room.

“Sweetie Belle?” Rarity questioned, looking up the stairs in concern. “Was that you?”

She was answered by another squeak, and the sound of a door closing.

Rarity sighed. “I’ll speak with her later…” She looked back at Dusk. “Is something wrong?”

Dusk couldn’t answer. His eyes were wide, and his mouth slightly opened. Confusion passed through his eyes. He blinked twice, before returning his gaze back to Rarity.

When he spoke, his voice no longer carried the same cold confidence it did before. Rather, it sounded perturbed and worried, carrying a more subdued tone. “I’ll… be back later for my clothing,” he murmured. He briskly turned and began walking out.

Pinkie and Rarity shared a confused look. What could have made his tone change so drastically? Both were unsure of the answer. Pinkie shrugged, and followed Dusk, leaving Rarity alone to ponder just what the heck happened. She sighed, resolving to ask Dusk about it when he returned. She turned, and began working on his clothes.

A bead of sweat lightly covered the stallion’s forehead, and he wiped it away. Somehow, that encounter with that little filly in Rarity’s Boutique had distressed him greatly. Sure, he knew he wasn’t the best with kids, but he couldn’t fathom as to why he felt so nervous all of a sudden.

Perhaps it has to do with her response… she ran away from me.

Was he a scary pony? The question had been asked numerous times, and every time he always answered the same: “It depends on what you mean by ‘scary.’” After all, fear was subjective to the individual, and what scares one pony possible may not scare another.

The question, however, had always been in regards to other adult ponies. He could be quite intimidating and terrifying when he wanted to, and in his line of work, it was to be expected. But, he had never scared a child before; and the recent experience at the Boutique was serving to confuse him greatly.

Maybe I should go back and apologize.

Apologize for what? Simply seeing what everypony else couldn’t?

He grit his teeth, unsure if to feel anger towards the filly—or himself.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Pinkie suddenly asked.

He yelped, anger skyrocketing from the surprise. He glared at the pink mare. She didn’t take notice of the sudden hostility. “Nothing that concerns you,” he answered coldly.

She cocked her head. “Really? But we’re friends; friends always share their thoughts!”

He looked away, eyes pointed down the road. “Who said we were ever friends? At this point, you’re little more than my guide; a speck of the momentary, nothing more.”

His tone was cold and blunt, and she finally picked up on it. She glanced away, eyes growing big and sad. Her mane lost some of its usual poofiness, and her coat seemed to become a darker pink. He did his best to ignore her saddened look, focusing his gaze solely on the road.

“Where are we going next?” she finally asked after a moment of silence passed between them.

“First Twilight’s,” he answered, “then the Mayor’s. Then back to Rarity’s.”

She looked back at him with slight curiosity. “Why do you need to see Twilight?”

He spared a glance in her direction. “She took something of mine. I need it back.”

Pinkie seemed surprised at this, but nodded, leading the way to the Golden Oak Library. A few ponies saw Pinkie’s slightly depressed look, and cast confused, even angry looks at Prosa. He side-glanced at them, and his chilling, partial glare was enough to make them shiver and look away.

Eventually they made it to the library. Dusk took a quick look at the structure. He was impressed at its height, seeing that it stood a few feet above the other houses. True to its name, it was indeed made of an oak tree, with bushy green leaves covering tall, dark branches. There were a few glass windows neatly fitted all around, shined and polished to reflective levels.

He and Pinkie approached the red, wood door, and he knocked three times. A few moments later, a diminutive dragon unlocked the door. “Um… hello?” he greeted unsurely.

“I’m here to see Miss Sparkle,” Prosa said.

“What about Pinkie?”

Prosa simply shrugged. The dragon looked from Pinkie, to Prosa, back to Pinkie, before sighing. He held the door open, letting them inside.

If the pewter stallion was impressed with the outside, he was outright blown away by the inside. Never in his life had he ever set forth in a tree-carved house. He was surprised that, despite all the carvings and interior damage, that the tree still stood without collapsing on itself. In front of him were shelves of books, all neatly ordered and arranged. Above was a golden sun emblem, with the rays circling around the center. In the center of the room was a table with a wooden horse’s head carved on top. To the back end of the room were set of stairs leading to the upper layer.

“Twilight? You have visitors!” the dragon called, looking up at the stairs.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Spike!” Twilight called back.

There was the sound of hooves stomping on wood as the unicorn walked down the steps, her horn alight and carrying a stack of books. She glanced over the books, at first smiling at the two visitors. “Why, hello, Pinkie and—”

Her smile dropped, as did the books with a solid thump on the floor. Her eyes widened in realization as she saw the all-too-familiar stallion standing in her house.

“Er, Twilight?” Spike asked, looking at his friend with concern. “Are you alright?”

Twilight didn’t respond, her mouth open. There seemed to be a flicker of light behind her eyes, but it was quickly sputtering out. Dusk decided to try and reconnect the wiring and light up her mind again.

He stepped forward, almost casually, and introduced himself. “Dusk Prosa. We’ve met.”

The mention of his name managed to get the gears working in Twilight’s head again. She shook herself, trying to put on a smile. “Y-yes, we have.”

Spike looked at the stallion with slight curiosity. “Wait, you’re Dusk Prosa?”

Catching the dragon’s tone, Dusk turned to look at him. “Indeed I am. You sound… surprised.”

The dragon shrugged. “No offense; but the way that Twilight had described you earlier, she made it sound like you were some sort of crazy horse demon or something.”

Prosa allowed himself a rare grin, though it drooped a little when he saw Spike back up in slight fright at the sardonic manner. “I see.” He turned his gaze back the unicorn. “Spreading rumors, are we, Miss Sparkle?”

Before she could respond, he trotted over and helped carry over several of the fallen books to one of the shelves. He quickly put them in their place, before trotting back over to his spot. Spike walked over and inspected the books, before turning back to the stallion with shock in his eyes.

“Wait… how’d you know where to put each of them?” Spike asked.

Prosa shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

As her dragon charge gave her a confused look, Twilight decided to cut to the chase. “Dusk,” she said, nearly slipping into a tone that a schoolteacher would give to misbehaving students, “would you mind telling me what you are doing here?”

Dusk quickly replied in a semi-bored tone, “Oh, you know. Just got discharged from the hospital, decided to take a look around this place.” He glanced back at Pinkie. “Don’t know what she’s doing here, though.” His eyes then shifted back at Twilight, and his tone grew more colder. “And, of course, to take back what is mine.”

Twilight rocked on her hooves uncomfortably, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Don’t play dumb, Sparkle,” he suddenly snapped, any bit of amusement immediately leaving him. “It really doesn’t help with your figure.”

Everypony was taken by surprise by the sudden vehemence, most of all Spike. “Hey!” he exclaimed, glaring at Prosa. “Don’t talk to Twilight like that!”

“I’m not talking to Miss Sparkle,” he responded, still glaring icy daggers at the unicorn. “I’m talking to a thief.”

Twilight’s legs began shaking under the stallion’s intense gaze. She tried to maintain eye contact as best as she could, but was quickly faltering. Her voice wavered between shaky and high-pitched panic. “I-I’m not sure exactly what you mean, Dusk.”

The stallion nearly sighed. It was painfully obvious she knew exactly what he meant. “Don’t play this game with me, Miss Sparkle,” he said, his tone still cold. “You’ll start it, I’ll finish it, and you won’t like the ending.”

A heavy silence lay between them, as Dusk’s carnation orbs stared directly into Twilight’s soul. Under his narrowed gaze, the unicorn felt herself shrinking and hunching over, as if in pain. She looked down and scraped a hoof on the floor, as if trying to physically ward off Dusk’s dark influence.

Meanwhile, Dusk had settled into a slightly bent position, unbeknownst to even him. Unconsciously, his past was somehow integrating itself with his present. His bent form and narrowed gaze made him seem more threatening; if he had been fully aware of his actions, he might have even bared his teeth.

Pinkie and Spike watched, unintentionally fascinated. The smartest mare in Ponyville was squaring off against the mysterious stallion from the north; and she was in the midst of losing her battle. Her lips shook, and her jaw moved, struggling for words of defiance. Yet none came out, and all she could do was look down, in shame—and yet, also in curiosity.

Finally, she had to ask, “How did you know?”

“I counted.”

She looked up at him. “You know the exact number of syringes you have?”

“Yes.”

She sighed, before lighting her horn. From behind the wooden stallion head she levitated over the missing syringe. He eyed it for a second, nearly hesitant, before suddenly swiping and grabbing it, safely placing it back in his pack. He let out a brief breath of relief, an action that wasn’t missed by the purple unicorn.

Her gaze narrowed. “You were going to use them on yourself, weren’t you?”

Give little away, he reminded himself. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. He replied, with the hint of amusement returning, “Assertions made without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.”

She sighed, defeated. “Is there… anything else I can do for you, Mr. Prosa?”

“Perhaps,” he mused, his voice suddenly turning thoughtful. “Could you point me in the direction of the Mayor’s Office?”

“O-of course,” Twilight answered. “It’s in the Town Hall, center of town.”

He smirked slightly. “Of course it is.” He turned to leave, but before he had left the tree, he paused.

He glanced over his shoulder. “No doubt you have… misconceptions about me, Miss Sparkle. A word of advice?” His tone dropped back into threatening. “If you value you and your friends’ safety, stay out of my way.”

With that, he turned back to leave. The door closed snappily behind him, leaving Twilight, Pinkie, and Spike staring at it with expressions of disbelief.

“Well, that was awfully rude,” Spike snorted, “right, Twilight?”

Twilight didn’t answer. She stared after Dusk with a confused expression, completely blown away by his attitude.

Pinkie also stared after him, but suddenly she growled. The other two looked at her in shock. “Pinkie?” Twilight asked.

“I don’t get it,” she murmured. “Why is he so mean?” She began pacing around the floor, head down. “There’s gotta be a reason.” Her head suddenly shot up. “Wait! I’ve got it!”

She zoomed out the door before Twilight could question her. The unicorn tried calling her name, but Pinkie had already vanished into the distance.

“Twilight?” Spike asked. “What do you think Pinkie is going to do?”

Twilight sighed. “If I had to guess, probably something crazy.”

“You want to what?!” Mayor Mare exclaimed in shock.

Dusk sighed and rolled his eyes. Seriously, what was so hard to comprehend about his request? “You heard me the first time; I won’t repeat it.”

Mayor readjusted her glasses. “I’m sorry. It’s just… so sudden, you know?”

“I don’t.”

She waited, expecting a little more, but got nothing. “It’s been awhile since anypony has decided to move to Ponyville, Mr. Prosa. And it’s even more surprising since you only arrived a few days ago.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What, I can’t decide quickly?”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant!” she quickly protested. “It’s simply that… well… it’s a rather odd request.” She returned a raised eyebrow herself. “You want the house at the edge of Ponyville, on the road to Canterlot?”

“Yes.”

“That house is in ruins, Mr. Prosa. I brought it up as a joke. And yet you intend to settle into it, knowing its decrepit state?”

He nodded. “Hardly a complicated matter, is it?”

She shook her head. “Perhaps not for you. But for me?” She let out a rueful laugh. “Dusk Prosa, only a few hours released from Ponyville Hospital, wishes to move into our humble town—and into one of our poorer homes, as well.”

“Don’t tell me that’s too complicated for you.” His tone was mocking, but Mayor took it heartily.

“I suppose it isn’t,” she responded. “With the Element Bearers in our town, as well as Pinkie Pie’s antics, well… I suppose this isn’t as complex as I make it out to be. It still is a strange request, though.” She chuckled. “Oh, well. I suppose I’ve seen stranger.”

“Speaking of Pinkie Pie,” Dusk said, “is she always like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, crazy.”

Mayor waved a hoof at him dismissively. “Oh, yes, very much. But don’t worry; you’ll get used to it.”

Yeah, like getting used to a massive itch that you can’t reach.

“Well, enough of the pleasantries,” Mayor Mare said. She brought over a clipboard covered with a few documents. “I’ll need your signature for a few official items.” She then carried over a blue quill pen and a black inkwell.

He nodded, though inwardly hesitant at signing. He was worried that the faint glowing from the hospital would return. Nonetheless, he resolutely wrapped the quill in his hoof and dipped the point in the dark liquid. He felt his flank vibrate, and was scarcely aware of a light glowing at the edge of the desk. He ignored these sensations, doing his best to maintain a neutral face as he signed the documents quickly. When he had finished, he placed the quill down and handed over the clipboard, nearly letting out a breath of relief.

“Well, now, everything seems to be in order,” Mayor Mare said. “When do you plan on moving in?”

“Later on today, if possible.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Usually ponies would take a few days to move in, you know.”

“I’m not like usual ponies,” he simply answered.

There was a silence between them as they stared at each other. They seemed to be waiting for the other to make a move, to slip-up; yet it appeared that neither were willing to make that mistake. Prosa was determined not to falter, and he stared at the mayor intensely. His gaze let her know that he would not say much further, and she sighed, seeing that he would be true to his word.

“Very well,” she finally said, standing up. “Where can I reach you when we’ve finished moving your stuff in?”

“That won’t be necessary,” he responded, also standing up. “I’ll be moving my stuff in on my own.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that you brought little else than your clothes and your bag?”

“I suppose you could say I’m not a materialistic kind of stallion.”

She smiled. “Well, you certainly are a strange one.”

“So the ponies here keep telling me.”

He turned to leave, but before he did, Mayor Mare gave him one final piece of advice. “Pinkie Pie’s probably going to quickly learn that you’re moving in.”

“So?”

“So she’s likely going to go full ‘Party Planner’ for you.”

He smirked. “I think I’ll refuse her offer.”

“You don’t understand.” Her tone turned grave. “You can’t.”

“Why not?” The very idea of somepony saying that he couldn’t refuse was laughable; after all, it was a simple matter of saying no, right?

“You’ll see,” she answered with a devious smile.

He frowned, but said no more, walking out of the office with his bag by his side.

Comments

[Gypsybard]

Okay this confuses me greatly why would prosa have people call him that it's a huge giveaway to who he actually his. Part of his name is dusk which is not at all related to his pen name. It just seems counterintuitive to tell everyone who you actually are when your trying not to be found.