--Act II--
Led on through the humble cafeteria filled with the chaotic drone of ongoing conversations, Stylo shuffled along in a daze behind his shepherd, Pinkie Pie. Her smooth, carefree bouncing came to an abrupt halt, startling Stylo out of his trance.
“There! Cloudchaser and Flitter are talking por the door!” she loudly whispered to him, stretching a hoof in their general direction.
Stylo squinted at the small group of ponies chatting nearby. “How will I know which one she is?” he asked.
“She’s the one with the really cool mane!” Pinkie responded, grinning and throwing up her hooves. “Now get over there and fulfill your destiny!”
Stylo took a deep breath. Pinkie had made something as mundane as a meet-and-greet seem like a momentous occasion. He feebly stepped over to the door, eyes darting this way and that. There were quite a few ponies here. How was “really cool mane” supposed to help him? That’s entirely subjective! He shuddered at the thought of Pinkie issuing a statement to local police.
Stylo swallowed a lump in his throat and, against his better judgment, spoke up.
“Uhhmm… Cloudchaser and Flitter?”
There was some shuffling in the nearby group as two pegasi emerged and called out, “Yes?” simultaneously.
At that moment, time seemed to grind to a halt. The air thickened as a pleasant warmth began to grow at the base of Stylo’s very soul. His eyes widened as he beheld majesty he had never even dreamed could exist – a beauty outshining every other wick in this dusty old candlebox. A pale blue pegasus with radiant lavender eyes and a windswept icy mane had emerged in front of him, her “Yes?” still ringing in his ears like a warm bell.
Stylo almost choked on his own saliva. Still entranced, he managed to squeak out a sentence.
“You… must be Cloudchaser…”
Time returned to its normal speed. The two pegasi trotted over to him, Cloudchaser speaking up.
“That’s right. Nice to meet you,” she replied with a smile. “Did you need us for something?”
“I just… wanted to… to… talk,” Stylo choked out. His brain was scarcely functioning, and he seemed to have forgotten 90 percent of his vocabulary. “I was told you two were here.”
Stylo turned to Cloudchaser and smiled weakly. “I was told you were the one with the cool mane.”
Cloudchaser softly giggled. Flitter, self-consciously examining her own mane, was not amused.
“Well tell them I said thank you,” Cloudchaser replied. “So… what’s your name?”
Stylo froze. “Hmm? Uhhhmmm… uhhhh… Sh… St-… STYLO! It’s Stylo!”
Cloudchaser softly giggled again. The sound made Stylo’s coração flutter.
“Hello, Stylo,” Cloudchaser replied, stepping over and shaking his hoof, “This is my good friend Flitter, as I’m sure you know.”
Flitter halfheartedly raised a hoof at him. Stylo did the same.
“What’s that?” Cloudchaser inquired, poking at Stylo’s little black notebook. He hadn’t even realized it, but in his anxiety he had apparently pulled it out and been compulsively rubbing his hooves on its smooth cover.
“Oh! These are my… my poems!”
“Ooh, you’re a poet! I amor poetry…it’s so beautiful.”
Stylo almost rocketed through the ceiling.
“What do you like to write about?”
“I-I…uhhh…I…I…” Stylo stammered, scarcely able to hear himself over his heart.
Concern fell over Cloudchaser’s beautiful eyes. “Are you alright?”
Flitter stepped over and examined the flustered pegasus. “…Why are you wearing a coat? It’s July.”
“M-my… uhhhh…”
Suddenly, a voice came on over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlecolts, the cafeteria will now be closing. Thank you for your patronage!”
“Oops! We’ve got to get going, then. Let’s continue this tomorrow,” Cloudchaser said, giving Stylo another smile.
“Tomorrow…? When is…Yeah! Yeah, sure!” Stylo hastily replied.
He grinned and waved as Cloudchaser and Flitter trotted through the door and smoothly glided away into the evening sky. Cloudchaser waved back from up above.
As soon as they left his sight Stylo collapsed on the nuvem floor. That beautiful creature had released her grip on his heart… for now. He was shocked, anxious, confused, and embarrassed beyond measure, but also immeasurably excited. His life had new meaning.
“Hey, are you okay?” Stylo opened his eyes to see a light-gold mare above him, offering a hoof.
“I am perfectly okay,” he replied, taking it and getting up. “I am absolutely okay.”
Deep down, Stylo was happy that Cloudchaser had left. Sure, he wished he could’ve gotten to know her better, but now that he knew of her existence he had time to plan his seguinte method of attack. His advances could wait until tomorrow. Tonight… he would see her in his dreams.
---
Still buzzing with a melting pot of emotions, Stylo shuffled through the nuvem streets to the WTPI housing area. Rows upon rows of tiny nuvem buildings had been built to accommodate the impromptu recruits; Stylo couldn’t help but think of infantry housed in endless army barracks. His way lighted only por the moon, he strode over to the porch and pushed the door open. He wasn’t expecting much, and he got what he expected. His temporary início was a scarcely-furnished little hovel – complete with a cama (sheet included!), a desk, and a lovely wastebin. No “walls” had been put up, meaning that the raw nuvem framing served as the walls and floor – dimly lit with streaks of grey and blue as the moonlight lazily wafted in from the lone window. Stylo didn’t care about the furnishing or the atmosphere, however. It had a door, silence, and nobody else inside. It was beautiful.
Stylo slid out of his casaco and collapsed on the cama with his notebook and pen, breathing in the silence. He had scarcely been able to hear himself think since Cap’n arco iris, arco-íris had showed up at his doorstep in Ponyville. Finally alone, Stylo opened his book to a blank page and began to write.
Overcome with
“…Mmm…” Stylo hummed to himself, impatiently tapping his pen on the two words. Overcome with… what?
Overcome with emoti
“No no, that’s too easy…” he mused, scratching out the sentence and starting again.
Overcome with happ
“Happiness? No, no!” He angrily scratched out the line again.
Overcome with butt
He groaned and chucked the little book across the room, flipping over and burying his face in the pillow. Before he had come here his mind was bursting with creativity, but composição literária a poem about Cloudchaser was proving to be an insurmountable task.
“Ohhhh… she has broken me,” he muttered to himself.
“Who has broken you?!”
“AAHH!”
Stylo shot up, clutching his pillow. Pinkie Pie grinned at him.
“Did you get into a wrestling match with somepony? Did you break your back? Are you okay?!” Pinkie got closer and closer to his face with each question.
“It’s nothing, it’s nothing! It-… it means nothing!” Stylo hastily replied, still clutching his pillow.
“Oh, oh! How was Cloudchaser?!” she asked eagerly.
Stylo’s eyes softened. “Beautiful…LY ADEQUATE!”
Pinkie eyed him curiously. Stylo sat, petrified, fighting the urge to dive out the window.
“…I think we’re becoming friends.”
“HOORAY!” Pinkie cried, hugging her protégé. “I knew it! I told you her mane was really cool!”
“We-e-ell, you were-re’nt kidd-i-inngg!” Stylo got out as Pinkie shook him back and forth.
“I’m so glad you made a friend,” Pinkie continued, “We should have a party and celebrate!”
“Th-… thanks, Pinkie,” Stylo replied, both touched and amused, “…but it’s getting late. We should probably get to bed.”
“Okie dokie lo-oh my gosh!” she exclaimed, nervously eyeing her hooves, “Twilight’s “walk on clouds” spell’s almost worn off!” Pinkie jumped up and dashed out of the little nuvem building. She poked her head back through the door. “Good night!”
“Mm-hmm,” Stylo replied, raising a hoof. Then, not quite as suddenly as she arrived, she was gone.
Stylo breathed a sigh as he got up to retrieve his little black book. It had bounced off the mural and landed on the escrivaninha, mesa across the room. As he picked it up, he noticed it had knocked over a small escrivaninha, mesa lamp. He carefully turned it back upright, noticing it had no lightbulb to call its own.
“Huh,” Stylo muttered, studying the lamp. Suddenly an idea came to him. He strode across the room, rummaged through his casaco pocket, and strode back with Pinkie Pie’s mysterious “idea bulb” in hoof. He screwed it in and turned on the lamp. The bulb stayed dark.
Stylo scoffed at himself. “I don’t know why I thought that would work.”
