Recherche

by Crescent Pulsar

Chapter 11: Food for Thought

When all was said and done, Quidditch hadn't suffered much in the way of alterations: they added several allowable roles for clouds, catching the Snitch now gave fifty points, and the object in question wasn't introduced into play until the game had been in session for a certain amount of time. The only things that remained to be settled were some of the names and terms that had yet to be changed into something that would be more relatable to the ponies of Equestria, in part because neither Rainbow Dash nor Marshall were particularly talented at coming up with decent alternatives.

Since Rainbow Dash was eager to play the game as soon as possible, she had eventually asked Marshall if he would be able to find Sugarcube Corner and the school on his own, so she could go to Twilight Sparkle and sort out the remaining details of the game, as well as seeing about enchanting a Snitch and two Bludgers. Marshall had been reasonably sure that he could find his way to either location, so he didn't have any trouble with yielding to what Rainbow Dash was most interested in doing at that moment, who had rushed out of her home as soon he had finished giving his response to her request.

After Marshall left the suddenly-empty house, which had felt a bit awkward to remain within alone, he decided to take a brief moment to see where he would be going while he had a good vantage point to do so, since he wouldn't be flying for much longer and thus couldn't rely on it when he had to go back to his usual method of travel. Once he was confident that he wouldn't get lost while walking to any of the locations that he would be going to that day, he focused his attention on Sugarcube Corner and took flight.

While he was tempted to fly around just for the fun of it, he was able to rein in that desire and headed directly toward his destination. It hadn't been easy to do, though, despite having had so much practice with being composed and mature as an adult. He wondered if he should be worried about that: because, when he had decided to open himself up and not appear to be too out of place, he hadn't imagined himself behaving as he did when he had been flying with Rainbow Dash. In retrospect, while he didn't regret the experience, it was kind of embarrassing.

Still, it was nice to know that he could get along with Rainbow Dash, despite their obvious differences in personality. It was still largely up in the air as to how their future interactions would be, but what he had to go on so far was enough to make him optimistic toward his imminent meeting with Pinkie Pie, even though he had never met someone quite like her before. She seemed to be good-natured, though, so he hoped that things would work out.

There didn't seem to be anyone about to enter Sugarcube Corner, who could get in the way, so he decided to land right in front of its doorstep. Before heading in, he took a quick look about himself and noticed that he had attracted some attention, so he added a bit of haste to his step and entered the establishment. Unlike his last visit, the lights were on upon his arrival, and there were only a couple of ponies within, either sitting at a table or standing at the service desk.

He had barely finished crossing the threshold when Pinkie Pie had leaned into view, around the stallion that she had been attending from behind the service desk, and smiled brightly upon seeing him. "Rushershy!" She waved him over. "Come on down!"

Confused by the name that he had been addressed by, Marshall nonetheless did as directed, all while ignoring the attention that Pinkie Pie had drawn to him. By the time that he had reached the service desk, the stallion had turned about and began to walk away from it, a paper bag held in his mouth. Since he didn't know where Pinkie Pie wanted him to be, exactly, he played it safe and stopped in front of her, with the service desk between them.

Marshall tried to ask about the name, but Pinkie Pie extended a forehoof toward him in a "cease and desist" manner and said, "Hold that thought," before reaching over the service desk and grabbing him by the shoulders, then pulling him to the other side of it and setting him down beside her. It had happened so quickly and unexpectedly that he had almost lost his balance when his hooves had been reintroduced to the floor, but he had managed to avoid falling over even as he tried to reconcile how far Pinkie Pie had just stretched her body, in order to accomplish what she had just done.

"There!" Pinkie Pie happily declared. "Now we can talk!"

Once he had recovered enough of his bearings, Marshall pushed what had just happened aside and asked, "So, uh, why did you call me 'Rushershy?'"

Pinkie Pie tilted her head in confusion. "Isn't that your new name?"

"It's 'Recherché,'" Marshall corrected her, without complaint.

With her eyes wide with realization, Pinkie Pie said, "Oh, is that what Twilight had said?" She cuffed the side of her head. "Silly me! I might have been just a little distracted at the time, and it just seemed to make sense." Seeing Marshall's questioning look, she added, "I mean, because you seemed a bit shy and left the party so soon — which I totally understand, of course." She perked up, as if she had just remembered something. "Oh! And it didn't hurt that you did that for Rarity's sake, had a similar hairstyle to Fluttershy's, and just a bit ago I saw you flying past the window at a breakneck speed."

Marshall stared silently at Pinkie Pie's smiling visage while he digested her explanation, absently wondering where that "squee" sound had come from. It did make a sort of sense, when viewed in the manner described, since "Rushershy" sounded similar enough to "Recherché." While it was oddly coincidental that a misheard name could relate to his appearance and some of his actions, even if he didn't really think that he was being particularly kind, what had really caught his attention was when Pinkie Pie had very briefly expressed a measure of dispiritedness during the "left the party so soon" part of the explanation, despite the assurance that had followed it.

Before he could figure out how to respond, Pinkie Pie already seemed to be moving on, because she hummed thoughtfully as she considered him with a pensive expression on her face. "Say," she began, as she leaned forward and invaded his personal space with a sidelong glance, which caused him to pull his head back and fold his ears down, "you're not trying to get on my good side with flattery, are you?"

Marshall's confusion allowed Pinkie Pie's momentum to move things along without interruption. Before he knew it, she was standing at his side, on her hind legs, while she rummaged through the rat nest that had become his mane. It was with a mild sense of accomplishment that he had only flinched at the initial contact, although he still felt uncomfortable having someone do something to him that was akin to a lice inspection.

Unable to follow what was going on, he calmly asked, "Um, what are—"

"That's it?" Pinkie Pie asked no one in particular, who tsked several times at the twig and leaves that she held up in a hoof. "Let's see what you're packing back here..."

This time Marshall had an idea of what was about to happen, but he stiffened and let out a rather embarrassing, "Eep," upon opening up his mouth to speak, because Pinkie Pie had placed one of her forehooves on his rump, near the tail, to brace herself while she searched through his tail with her other forehoof. He really didn't care for that kind of attention in that particular area, so he finally got the nerve to hop away and express his irritation. "Do you mind?"

"Yes!" Pinkie Pie exclaimed, much to Marshall's surprise, as she held up a little, rubber boot, whose sole was peeling away from one of its ends. "Boots should be stored near the head, not in the tail," she declared, before closing the distance between them and shoving the aforementioned object into his mane. "There! Now, if you really want to emulate me—"

She was interrupted by a stallion clearing his throat, who was standing on the other side of the service desk. He had a dark grey coat, short, brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a cutie mark of a white and red can. With a voice that matched the weary expression on his face, he asked, "Where's that chocolate cake?"

Much to Marshall's relief, Pinkie Pie zipped over to attend the latest customer. From seemingly out of nowhere, as far as he could tell, she pulled out a box from behind the service desk and placed it upon the desktop with a winning smile. "Do you mean this chocolate cake?"

The stallion lifted the lid of the box and glanced at the contents within, which inspired a small smile to form on his lips. After closing the box, he paid for it, placed his purchase on his back, then politely said, "Thank you," before taking his leave.

Pinkie Pie waved at his departing form. "Have a wonderific day, mister Soup!"

Thanks to that little diversion, Marshall had been able to reach the same page that Pinkie Pie had been on, which had made it possible to figure out the reason for her actions. So, instead of giving her a chance to continue from where she had left off, when she turned her attention back to him, he preemptively said, "Um, look, my hair is like this because of something that Rainbow Dash had done."

Pinkie Pie blinked her eyes a few times as she digested that information, then narrowed them and asked, "Did she do it as a prank?"

Marshall looked askance and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "...I don't think so?"

After holding her expression for a second longer than necessary, Pinkie Pie was all smiles again and abruptly changed the subject with barely-contained excitement. "So, what can you tell me about the goodies that humans eat? Are they anything like ours? Are they yummilicious? How much do humans consume? Will ponies mutate if they consume them, and gain superequine powers?"

That last question was a bit unexpected, but Marshall had already been fairly distracted by the sheer amount of anticipation that Pinkie Pie appeared to be radiating. It seemed like, at any moment, she might actually transform into a firework and blast off. She remained grounded, thankfully; a little too grounded, since she was leaning the front of her body downward, so she could look up at him expectantly, as a playful dog might.

"Well," Marshall temporized, as he tried to work out where to begin, "I can't say that I saw anything at the party that I hadn't recognized, or didn't seem like something that we — humans, I mean — couldn't have made. It's hard to say anything more than that because I don't have much of an idea of everything that ponies make, and humans make so many things that it's probably impossible for me to list more than a small fraction of them."

Rather than be discouraged by that, Pinkie Pie began to bounce on her hooves, alternating from one side to the other. "Really? Humans make a lot? Can you give me an idea of how much?"

Marshall delved into the recesses of his mind, to try and find something that would appease the easily-excitable pony before him, with the hope of avoiding any more situations that were of an undesirable nature. Unfortunately, the subject matter wasn't the sort that he had ever been interested enough in to study to any extent worth noting, so he only had a vague idea of the quantities involved. Eventually, though, he was able to dredge up a piece of trivia about one of his world's most popular foods.

Hoping that it would be enough, he said, "Okay, I don't think I can help you beyond this one thing, but — maybe — it will be enough to give you a good idea about the rest: when it comes to chocolate alone, humans produce several billion pounds of it every year."

Pinkie Pie screeched to a halt in response, becoming completely immobile, which preoccupied Marshall's mind with enough worry to not notice how she was balancing on her left legs instead of tipping over onto her other side. Then, suddenly, she whirled around to face you, threw her forelegs into the air as she rose upon her hind legs, and shrieked, "You produce several billion pounds of chocolate in a year!?"

Marshall spared a glance toward the direction that she was looking at before regarding her warily. "Um... Who are you talking to?"

Rather than answer his question, Pinkie Pie appeared before him in the blink of an eye and began to shake him by the shoulders as she yelled, "Do you have any idea of what you could do with that much chocolate!?"

She had shaken him hard enough to make him collapse when said shaking unexpectedly ceased, as a result of his voice only capturing her attention briefly. She proceeded to turn away and look into space, imagining the possibilities as she began to relate them aloud. "You could fill a vault that's the size of a skycraper and swim in it. Wait! The chocolate could be melted down and poured into swimming pools for a totally-delicious pool party of epic proportions!" She gasps as a particularly attractive idea occurred to her. "Or, the chocolate can be stacked so high that they reach the moon, and we can finally answer the age-old question: is the moon a powdered doughnut hole? Oh! Maybe..."

When Marshall finally recovered enough to get back on his hooves, he shook his head to dispel the last of his disorientation. Upon seeing that Pinkie Pie was in her own, little world, he sat down on his haunches and began to wonder what to do. While Pinkie Pie kind of reminded him of himself back in junior high, aside from being on a completely different level, it wasn't something that his current self knew how to deal with. It was kind of sad, really: in addition to making him feel much older than he was, it also highlighted how much he had changed since he had left his school days behind, which made him look like a fuddy-duddy by comparison.

Not for the first time did he note just how accustomed he had gotten to what his lot in life had been for the past several years. He'd once heard that people could adapt to pretty much anything, but he hadn't expected or intended to do that in certain, specific ways when he had become an adult. However, somehow, at some point, "dealing with this situation for now" had transitioned to: "whatever; it is how it is." Now, there he was, watching this force of nature who had a penchant for spreading joy, and he was...

...Intimidated? That might be the word to describe what he was feeling. After all, despite being in the presence of a personality that he could appreciate intellectually, especially from the perspective of watching a cartoon character from a fictional television show, he didn't have much in the way of motivation to partake of it, or contribute. Which was a bit frustrating, since he remembered a time when he wouldn't have been reluctant to behave as Pinkie Pie did, even if not nearly to the same degree. He wanted to enjoy that kind of fun again, though, so he resolved to get back what years of monotony, uninspiring jobs and separation from his friends had taken away.

Pinkie Pie was brought back to reality when the next customer arrived, with the aid of the call bell. Once she had finished serving them, she finally noticed Marshall and tilted her head inquiringly. "Oh, are you tired already?"

Marshall shook his head, stood up and said, "Nah. I was just thinking."

"What about?" Pinkie Pie asked, seemingly out of simple curiosity.

"Nothing worth talking about," Marshall replied, who probably wouldn't have shared the thoughts in question with his parents, much less someone that he hardly knew. Hoping to change the subject, he asked, "So, was there anything else that you wanted to know?"

"Hmmmm," Pinkie Pie hummed thoughtfully, her eyes directed skyward and a hoof stroking her chin. After a moment, she perked up and enthusiastically said, "Oh! I know! What is your absolute, most favorite snack in the whole, wide world?"

Caught off guard, Marshall stared at her for a moment before preparing to answer her question. At first, he was reluctant to share what his favorite snack was, for a couple of reasons: like a fair number of men in the world, he couldn't help feeling embarrassed if the food seemed to be not-so-masculine in nature; and, due to his long-standing convictions toward watching his weight, it would be a guilty pleasure to consume it — assuming that it would be made available him, that is. However, since he didn't have to worry about his weight in his current body, and didn't expect to be judged in the way that he feared, he decided that it wouldn't hurt to give an honest answer.

Still, he couldn't help feeling a mite embarrassed despite his thoughts on the matter, so he looked aside and scratched the side of his face as he said, "I guess that would have to be cheesecake."

"Cheesecake, huh?" Pinkie Pie replied, who appeared to be slightly intrigued by his choice. "No problem! I'll pick up some ricotta after work and have the cheesecake ready before bedtime!"

Now that he was sure of her intentions, and didn't want her to go out of her way for him, it was with some reluctance that he said, "You don't have to do that for me."

Pinkie Pie looked quite happy to hear that, which confused Marshall until she said, "Well, that's a relief: because I want to do it."

Marshall couldn't help smiling wryly at that, and decided that he might as well get what he wanted if she was going to insist on giving him something. "Okay, then can you make the cheesecake with cream cheese instead of ricotta?"

"Cream cheese?" Pinkie Pie inquired, her interest piqued. "Like, turning cheese into a cream?"

Marshall shook his head. "I'm not sure how it's made."

"Awwww..." Pinkie Pie complained, with an upward inflection toward the end, while her hair deflated slightly. "But I wanted you to enjoy your favorite snack."

After being distracted by Pinkie Pie's hair for a few seconds, Marshall tried to think of a way to salvage the situation. As overwhelming as Pinkie Pie could be at times, that really wasn't enough of a reason to spite her and allow things to stand as they were, especially since it was her own way of being nice. That wasn't to say that his motivation was entirely unselfish, though: it had been a while since the last time that he'd had any cheesecake, and the desire to have some had — by now — firmly taken root within his mind.

When a solution occurred to him, which had been easy to reach since his options were so limited, he said, "Hey, how about I, uh, 'zone out' for a minute and look up how to make it?"

Pinkie Pie perked up instantly, which affected the state of her hair in a similar manner. "That would be great! Can I zone out, too?"

Marshall chuckled at her eagerness to do such a thing as he laid down and got comfortable. "Sure; knock yourself out."

"Knocking yourself out isn't the same as zoning out, silly," Pinkie Pie replied, before happily bounding over to a spot beside him and lying down.

Slightly amused, Marshall shook his head lightly in response. Then, he lowered his head, closed his eyes, and focused on returning to his human body.

---

It had taken about fifteen minutes, but Marshall had found and memorized what he could about making cream cheese. When he had returned to Recherché's body, he had been met with a disappointed Pinkie Pie, who had either expected or hoped to share in the same experience. On top of that, she had also been disappointed by the fact that she wouldn't be able to make him cheesecake that day — a sentiment that he had shared, even if for a different reason. Thankfully, she had been cheered up when he had mentioned the spell that Twilight Sparkle would teach him later, which would — somehow — make it easier for him to convey information.

Following that, he had stuck around for a bit longer, to answer some more of Pinkie Pie's questions to the best of his ability. Most of her questions had been food-related, up until the point where he had mentioned malls: at which point he'd had to explain what they were, after having to tell her that the mall that he had been referring to wasn't like a promenade, nor a place where one became food and got mauled. After learning that some malls could be big enough to consist of hundreds of shops and restaurants of various kinds, and could include such things as amusement park rides, water parks, hotel accommodations, and other conveniences and attractions of that nature, it had become apparent that she wanted to go to one without needing to voice it — which she had, and with much conviction. He had a feeling that she held a misconception or two about malls, but he hadn't known how to address it, especially with how excited she had become at the very idea of their existence.

By the time that he had left Sugarcube Corner, about ten minutes before he needed to be at the school, his magically-fabricated wings had vanished: they had unraveled and floated away to nothing, in the form of ethereal wisps and motes of light. So, it was with a sigh that he began his trip to the school on foot, with the hope that it wouldn't be too long before he got another chance to fly.

The walk there turned out to be uneventful, for the most part. A few ponies — some of which he had recognized from yesterday's party — had tried to engage him in conversation, but he had politely declined, explained why, and promised to try and spare some time for them at some later date. Beyond that, he didn't seem to attract much in the way of attention, which came as a relief.

After following a fenced path for a bit, the school came into view and he got his first good look at it. It appeared to be a building with a single room and a bell tower, much like the human schools from a long time ago, which he had only ever seen pictures of. Its siding and roofing were red, primarily, with the latter a darker shade than the former, and the eaves were trimmed in white. While there were swirly patterns on the siding and eaves, the main motif appeared to be the heart, which could be found around the top of the window frames, on the eaves of the roof and portico, at the base of the bell tower, and replaced the fletching of what appeared to be a weather vane, located at the top of the aforementioned bell tower.

Before turning onto the path that led to the school's front door, he noted the sign on the left-hand side, which mainly displayed the image of an open book. Beyond it, he could see the school's playground, where he saw familiar equipment, like a sandbox and swing set. However, even more impressive than those was the play set that was further back, whose size rivaled that of the school. There were three main structures to the play set, with multiple levels, interconnecting bridges, a ramp, winding stairs, slides, stepping stumps, and other ways to interact with it. When he was able to tear his admiring gaze away from it, he noticed the flag poll on the right side of the path, which flew a red flag that tapered to a clefted point.

Once he had ascended the portico steps, he paused in front of the door and wondered whether he should knock or let himself in. After some consideration, he decided to be prudent and knocked. After all, he couldn't tell if there would be a foyer between himself and the classroom, and/or additional staff waiting to handle his appearance. Since he was supposed to be expected, he figured that either choice of action could be acceptable, but he preferred to err on the side of caution.

He began to hear muffled voices coming from the other side of the door, but distinctly heard, "Stay in your seats, please," among them, which he assumed to be the teacher's voice. When the door was opened, he was greeted by a mare with a mulberry-colored coat and light green eyes, whose hair was light pink with a wide, pale pink stripe in the middle. Behind her, he could see some of the desks near the front of the classroom, where several young ponies tried to get a good look at him. The single exception, that he could see, was a pony that he had already met before: Apple Bloom.

The teacher offered him a welcoming smile, although he could tell that she was probably just as interested in him as her students were, despite her calm demeanor. "You must be Marshall. Thank you for coming out here for the children."

"It's no problem," Marshall replied. He returned a weak smile, since he still had some misgivings about entertaining a group of young ponies. "Call me Recherché, though: I decided to use a more suitable name while I'm here."

The teacher nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Well, please, come in, and I'll introduce you to the class."

When she turned around to lead Marshall inside, he got a good look of her cutie mark, which consisted of three flowers that had a smiley face at the center of each one. As he followed her to the front of the classroom, he absently wondered if it had anything to do with her current line of work, and — if so — in what way, exactly. Along the way, he also took note of the classroom decor, even as he tried to ignore being the center of attention for two dozen eager children. Unlike the outside of the building, the inside was full of cooler and more subdued colors, such as beige, various shades of green, and teal. Aside from the furnishings being tailored for a pony's use, nothing looked out of place, beyond being behind the times compared to his own school experiences.

He soon found himself standing in front of the chalkboard, which was set in a rather fancy frame. After the teacher introduced him by his new name, she had to explain that he had changed it, since a fair number had learned about his human name from their parents. Then, once the teacher had dictated how her students should conduct themselves during the next hour, she went over to her desk and left the floor to him.

Despite his worries, the next hour went smoothly, for the most part; he even dared to think that it had been kind of pleasant. The only sour note had been Sweetie Belle, who had never tried to ask any questions and generally acted uninterested, even though plenty of his answers had caught her attention. Beyond that, the chalkboard had seen a lot of use, where he had done his best to illustrate a number of things that his audience — or any pony, possibly — had never seen before: such as the human body, airplanes, automobiles, cell phones, satellites, and rockets.

However, the most notable part of the experience, and — perhaps — the most shocking thing that he had learned about the pony's world so far, had come from the following question: who moved his world's sun and moon? That's when he had learned that Celestia and Luna controlled the movements of the sun and the moon, respectively. If not for the various things that he had experienced already, which he would have thought impossible a few days ago, he would have thought such a thing utterly preposterous. Despite that, he still found it hard to believe. However, by that point, he was willing to give such a feat the benefit of the doubt.

When the Q&A session had ended, and the children were free to go home, several of them had wanted more of his time, but he had to disappoint them: his main priority was with Rarity, and he was already feeling a tad guilty to have yet helped her with a full day's worth of work. Between that, and the teacher being curious enough about the human education system to want to arrange a time to discuss it with him, he had almost been too distracted to tell Sweetie Belle about her sister wanting to see her after school, before she could leave with her friends.

Rather than walk to her sister's home, perhaps because she didn't want to risk being joined by him, Sweetie Belle told Scootaloo and Apple Bloom that she would see them later before galloping off. Her friends stood by in an awkward, silent fashion as he walked by them, which he could only guess meant that Sweetie Belle had shared her thoughts about him at some point. Whatever those thoughts may have been, though, they hadn't made her friends hostile toward him.

Much like his trip to the school, the walk to his place of employment was uneventful, save for a single interruption by a curious pony. Since the front door of Rarity's home was also the main entrance of her business, and it was business hours, he forwent knocking on the door and opened it. What he saw in the room beyond, however, made him think that it might have been a better idea to have made his presence known first.

Close to the doorway stood Rarity and Sweetie Belle, with the latter being dwarfed by a collection of boxes, tote bags and various cases that had been placed nearby. Seeing some of the familiar materials of Rarity's trade sticking out of the tote bags, he had a good idea of what was going on, but — nonetheless — felt a little bad for intruding. Of course, it was too late to do anything about it, now that they had turned their attention away from each other and focused on him.

Because he thought that Rarity probably wouldn't be upset by his interruption, it came as a surprise when that reaction seemed to be the case, because she looked horror-stricken the moment that she set her eyes upon him. She pointed at him in a dramatic fashion and tried to speak, but it took a few false starts before she got anything intelligible out, starting with, "My—!" She quickly corrected herself and tried again. "I mean, your hair! What in Celestia's name happened to it!?"

With a mixture of sheepishness and self-consciousness, partly due to the state of his hair slipping his mind, he reached up and fidgeted with one of the tangled masses of his mane as he said, "Oh, uh... I kinda had a run-in with a rainbow tornado?"

Rarity appeared to calm down, although her smile and tone of voice told a different story, especially since it was easy enough for him to tell that she was failing to hide her true feelings on the matter. "How long, pray tell, has your hair been in such a... dreadful state?"

Marshall had yet to see this side of Rarity before, so his ears folded back as his nervousness caused him to hesitate with his response. "...Not long after I left Twilight's castle?"

Aside from an almost imperceptible tick of the brow, Rarity did not make a move or sound for an uncomfortable and nerve-wracking amount of time. He certainly didn't feel optimistic about what to expect from her when he noticed Sweetie Belle slowly backpedaling away from them. He began to wonder if he should follow the filly's example: while he had a decent idea regarding the cause of Rarity's reaction, and felt guilty for it, there were certain unpleasantries that he hoped to avoid.

Finally, after firmly widening her stance, and adopting a really serious and determined expression on her face, Rarity gruffly declared, "This... travesty... must... end!"

Immediately following that, Marshall reflexively heeded Rarity's "call" for magic, which resulted in him lifting himself into the air. As he was pulled along, toward the swinging door that was behind the platform and mirrors, he considered taking full control over his magic, but decided against it: while his mode of transportation was a bit embarrassing, and what awaited him probably more so, he honestly didn't want his hair to remain as it currently was. At least, he hoped that his hair was the only thing that Rarity intended to take care of.

Beyond the swinging door was a short hallway, and on the other end of it was a door. Once Rarity had brought him into the room that was on the other side of that door, what he saw made him think of a salon, especially due to the industrial-sized hair dryers that had easily caught his eye, as well as the amount of sinks. However, he supposed that it was more likely to be a dressing room, since it could be accessed right next to the place — in the shop's main room — where the customer could get a good look at themselves in a mirror, where adjustments could be made should they or Rarity see something that required it. Rarity had never mentioned that she was a beautician, so...

Rarity wasted no time as she placed him on a stool, in front of one of the vanity mirrors, then grabbed a brush and began to work on his tail from the bottom up. "Honestly, darling," she said, with a bit of a huff. "Though, I suppose I can understand your reluctance to tackle this mess, if Twilight's assessment of human male trends is anywhere near accurate."

Marshall winced as he experienced a sharp pain from a place he'd never had until yesterday. "Yeah, short hair is pretty common for guys..." To try and take his mind off of the pain, he added, "I've always worn my hair short, as far as I can recall. Usually, I don't even have to use a comb to make it look presentable."

"Well, I hope you're paying attention," Rarity replied, as she methodically worked on Marshall's tail at a steady pace. "Unless you'd like your hair shortened, you should learn how to take care of it. Speaking of which..." Marshall heard a sniffing sound, which prompted him to look in the mirror, where he saw Rarity making a face while leaning closer to him than necessary. "Yes... We'll definitely have to get you cleaned up before we go to have dinner with my family."

That last statement crowded out the thoughts that Marshall had begun to have about cutting his hair, since bathing was a much more serious matter. While he had taken a few baths already, technically speaking, and the feel of the water hadn't bothered him, actually focusing on his body and purposefully touching it was a lot more personal than he was comfortable with. While it would be strange as well, he was more worried about doing anything that could be considered a violation toward the pony whose body he was borrowing.

Whether by looking at his face in the mirror or noticing how rigidly he sat, Rarity was moved to pause with her brushing as she said, "I'm bothered a bit by this myself, I must admit." Then, she met his gaze in the mirror and smiled a bit wryly. "If your reaction to the idea of bathing in that body is anything to go by, though, I don't think I have anything to worry about."

Marshall returned her look with a half-lidded stare and pointed out, "You're not the one who has to deal with a strange body."

"True," Rarity acknowledged, as she continued the task of brushing out Marshall's tail, "but this is a strange situation. I've decided to view it like I would if I'd had a twin sister — perhaps you should, as well."

After regarding Rarity's reflection for a few seconds, with a questioning look on his face, Marshall bowed his head and mulled the idea over. Basically, she was suggesting that he take ownership over his borrowed form and treat it as he would his human body. Intellectually, he knew that there wasn't anything inherently wrong with being another species or sex, so it would just require some time to get used to the idea and adapt. However, time was a problem: because — of course — he would only be slipping out of his usual body and life for as long as Rarity would need him.

While he had more or less resolved himself to not worry about the attachments that he would make in this new world, it seemed a bit much to assume a role within a family and growing into it. In a way, despite not seeing it as such, it kind of felt like it would be a betrayal to his real family. He knew that people could form strong enough bonds with others and consider them a part of a family regardless of blood relation, and perhaps that's what the spirit of Rarity's words had meant, but he couldn't help seeing it as being more personal, given the overall context of the situation.

In the end, he decided that he had plenty of time to think about the matter: it was only his second day among the ponies of Equestria, after all. So, he opted to return his attention to the present and get back to it later, when he might be in a better frame of mind to figure out what he should do and feel about it all.

By then, Rarity had finished with his tail and had begun to sort out the hair on his neck. When she reached the base of his skull, though, she paused for a second, looking confused, before reaching into his hair and pulling something out. That something turned out to be the boot that Pinkie Pie had relocated to his mane for some strange reason.

Rarity looked at him questioningly, by way of the mirror, as she raised the boot into view. "How on earth did this get into your hair?"

Marshall shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Pinkie Pie found it in my tail, then said something about it belonging in my mane before putting it there."

With a shake of her head, Rarity tossed the boot aside and returned to the task at hand. However, after a few more brush strokes she came upon another unnatural obstruction; this time, it came in the form of a canister of baking powder. After her raised eyebrow had been answered by a rhetorical, "Did she really put that in my hair," from Marshall, she put it aside and finished with the rest of his mane without a problem.

"There," she voiced, before she began to look at Marshall's hair with a critical eye. "Your hair has suffered some trauma, but we can address that later."

Marshall got off of the stool immediately, since he was raring to go and do something after that hair-pulling ordeal. "Great! I'm feeling kinda bad about helping you with work even later than before, so let's get started."

Rarity opened her mouth to reply, but she paused and her eyes went wide with realization. Embarrassment soon followed, and Marshall's questioning gaze prompted her to admit, "It would appear that my plan had completely slipped my mind."

"What plan?" Marshall asked, as he gave her a sidelong look.

After assuming a bearing that would make her look more dignified, Rarity waved his query aside with a hoof and unconcernedly said, "Oh, I was just going to have you help Sweetie Belle carry all of those supplies back home. You see, I had told her that it had more or less been your idea to give her the chance to learn some of the more simpler crafts, if she were truly interested. Then, it was just a matter of providing her with more supplies than she could handle on her own, so I could arrange a bit of alone time between the two of you, but I saw your hair, and, well..." Along with a helpless expression on her face, she proceeded to make a gesture with a hoof, one that further indicated that the rest of the story didn't need to be told.

Marshall shook his head and said, "Let's check and see what your sister's been up to, then."

When they returned to the main room, they found the supplies where they had last seen them, but no Sweetie Belle. At first, Rarity had feared that her "doting" of Marshall had accomplished the opposite of what she had hoped to gain with her plan, but a closer inspection of the supplies had revealed that some of them were missing, which meant that Sweetie Belle had opted to take the time to relocate everything herself instead of storming off. At least, they hoped that was all that there was to the situation.

Sweetie Belle returned a short time later, and the expression on her face appeared to be one of resignation. That is, until she noticed that she wasn't the only one in the room, at which point she hastily put on a smile — whose insincerity was painful to look at — and exclaimed, "Oh! Sis!" She quickly noticed Marshall nearby and awkwardly added, "Uh, Recherché..."

Rarity clucked her tongue, but didn't address her sister's poorly-hidden feelings. "Sweetie Belle, if you'd only been patient, Recherché could have saved you the extra trip."

Sweetie Belle couldn't meet her sister's gaze, and looked rather uncomfortable under the circumstances. "Oh. I didn't know..."

Her response was a bit exasperating to Rarity, but she maintained her composure and made a silent gesture to Marshall, rather than being confrontational. Marshall, being the non-confrontational type, didn't need to get any clues from their connection to figure out what Rarity would be expecting from him, so he picked up all of the supplies without comment before addressing Sweetie Belle, saying, "Yup. You'll have to lead me to where we need to go, though: I don't know the town all that well, yet."

"Thanks," Sweetie Belle acquiesced, before simply turning about and leading the way out.

Marshall shared a look with Rarity before following Sweetie Belle. After carefully maneuvering all of the supplies through the doorway, and generally making sure that everything was positioned so that nothing would fall out of the bags and open containers, he began to wonder what he should say, if anything. While he pondered that, he got his first good look at Sweetie Belle's cutie mark: it was of an eighth note within a star, which — in turn — was on a shield that was divided vertically by three colors. If not for a more pressing matter, he might have pondered what it meant.

After some consideration, and not wanting the silence to stretch uncomfortably long, Marshall decided to ask, "So... Are you interested in fashion?"

"A little," Sweetie Belle belatedly replied.

Marshall, relieved that she was in the mood to reply at all, said, "Well, it's nice to know that you want to help your sister. I doubt I'll be around to help her for all that long."

Unexpectedly, Sweetie Belle stopped in her tracks and just stood there, which prompted him to pause and ask, "Is something up?"

"Oh!" Sweetie Belle exclaimed, as if surprised. She offered Marshall a smile that was supposed to mean, "There's nothing to worry about," and said, "Uh, no. I just thought I saw somepony I recognized..."

After Sweetie Belle returned to the task of leading him to her home, Marshall shook his head before following after her. If he was reading the situation right, he'd actually managed to have an affect upon the issue that Sweetie Belle had with him, although he couldn't be sure of just how much of one, or its exact nature. He supposed that only time would tell him.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence. Many ponies had taken notice of their passage, with most only taking the time needed to acknowledge it, but the attention of a few lingered, and was pronounced enough for Marshall to make note of it without returning their gaze. He didn't bother to consider that anything might be strange about any one of them, however, since he was more concerned with being able to find his way back to Rarity's place. While he wasn't above asking for directions, he felt better about being able to manage things on his own, in part because — out of necessity — he'd had to be a lot more self-reliant than his elder siblings.

Eventually, after traveling a fair distance from the more populated section of the town, Sweetie Belle took him down a path that ended at a riverside. The small pier and most of the nearby homes were nothing out of the ordinary, compared to what appeared to be common for the area, but the building that functioned as both a windmill and watermill certainly caught his attention. It also stood out because of the images of the sun and crescent moon on the door, which was framed by a horseshoe.

Sweetie Belle didn't take him there, though: instead, she led him to the three-story, thatch-roofed house that was nearby. Once there, she proceeded to open the front door and directed him to send the supplies inside. Since she wasn't entering the house, or inviting him in, Marshall opted to set the supplies down a good enough distance beyond the threshold. With that taken care of, he offered a simple goodbye before beginning his trip back to Rarity, since he didn't expect Sweetie Belle to willingly socialize with him.

However, after taking a couple of steps, he heard her call out, "Wait!"

He turned his head to regard her, idly appreciating being able to do so without shifting his lower body. "Yeah?"

With an expression that was tinged with what he could only guess was contriteness, which was accompanied by some fidgeting, she said, "Um... Since you don't have a cutie mark, would you like some help getting one?"

It took a moment for Marshall to reply, due to the question being unexpected. It also raised a question, which he voiced. "Ponies do that?"

"...Not really?" Came Sweetie Belle's uncertain reply, since getting her cutie mark had made her realize that the advice that she had dismissed, from her sister and others, could be considered a form of help.

Bemused by that answer, Marshall turned his body around so he could hold a proper conversation. He decided to share some of the thoughts that he'd had while working with Rarity, when his mind hadn't otherwise been engaged in some way. "Well, even if I wanted one, would it really do me any good? I mean, aside from my visits — and thus this body — being temporary, could it mess with the spell that's making that possible? For instance, what if getting a cutie mark ended up stranding me here, in this body?"

Sweetie Belle was disheartened by that line of thought, since any answer that she could give would only be speculation or wishful thinking. "I hadn't even thought of that..."

Marshall didn't want to leave her feeling that way, especially since she had made an effort to open up to him, so he decided to throw her a bone. "Tell you what: let me think about it. While I do, maybe I can find out if I have anything to worry about or not."

That appeared to do the trick, and this time his farewell was returned. However, despite his concerns about getting a cutie mark, as baseless as they currently were, the idea of getting one — and what it meant — still intrigued him enough to actually think about it while he walked back to his place of employment. At the very least, should he actually go through the process of getting one, he figured that it could offer some insight on the kind of direction his rudderless life needed, once his final visit with the ponies was behind him.

Comments

[Seeking Dusk]

That is a good question. What would getting a cutie mark do to the connection? Cutie marks are a powerful inherent magic. Messing with them as led to someone turning into an alicorn...

[newhope0722]

Get a Cutie Mark , and you will strand in Equestria!

[mastermenthe]

it wasn't something that his current self knew how to deal with.

I sympathize strongly.

[Chrome Masquerade]

"Okay, I don't think I can help you beyond this one thing, but — maybe — it will be enough to give you a good idea about the rest: when it comes to chocolate alone, humans produce several billion pounds of it every year."

Pinkie Pie screeched to a halt in response, becoming completely immobile, which preoccupied Marshall's mind with enough worry to not notice how she was balancing on her left legs instead of tipping over onto her other side. Then, suddenly, she whirled around to face you, threw her forelegs into the air as she rose upon her hind legs, and shrieked, "You produce several billion pounds of chocolate in a year!?"

Marshall spared a glance toward the direction that she was looking at before regarding her warily. "Um... Who are you talking to?"

Rather than answer his question, Pinkie Pie appeared before him in the blink of an eye and began to shake him by the shoulders as she yelled, "Do you have any idea of what you could do with that much chocolate!?"

i nk the last time she did something like that was

[Chrome Masquerade]

"Do you have any idea of what you could do with that much chocolate!?"

She had shaken him hard enough to make him collapse when said shaking unexpectedly ceased, as a result of his voice only capturing her attention briefly. She proceeded to turn away and look into space, imagining the possibilities as she began to relate them aloud. "You could fill a vault that's the size of a skycraper and swim in it. Wait! The chocolate could be melted down and poured into swimming pools for a totally-delicious pool party of epic proportions!" She gasps as a particularly attractive idea occurred to her. "Or, the chocolate can be stacked so high that they reach the moon, and we can finally answer the age-old question: is the moon a powdered doughnut hole? Oh! Maybe..."

for those of you wondering why Pinkie's my favourite pony: YO!
i'm going to give a bonus point, just for that!

[Iron Comet]

It's a clone body of Rarity, it should have had her mark already. But a Cutie Mark could act as a anchor. In fact, the longer he uses thd body the more 'real' it may become. Imagine if he used it long enough he left a imprint of himself behind when he wasn't in it. A Cutie Mark might create that scenario.

[Crescent Pulsar]

7403080 The copy of Rarity's body didn't come with a cutie mark because cutie marks are reflective of an individual's mental identity, and Marshall isn't Rarity.

[VegaSakusa]

I think the easiest way to have Marshall get stranded in Equestria would be to have him hoof wrestle Tirek to the Death
Okay now back to a more serious comment, I can't wait to see what happens next, also Pinkie is best pony, that is all

[CodeX000]

Personally, I believe it seems his cutie mark will be a generic pony related thing. His original name sure seems to point to it.

[DerpTape]

7434116
Now that would be a badflank butt tattoo!!