((Claiming Safah Thefanaesel - Stream - Pegasus Pony))
((
Intro music ))
A rather overdressed pony's ruby eyes set on Tacticsmile with with a bit of wonder and a sense of forlorn. His left eye was dilated at a 0.32 millimeters larger of a diameter than his right eye , for his condition of anisocoria was being lax that day. The cornflower blue pegasus whipped back his blanched almond and bleu ciel mane as he walked into the fort with the other migrants. How long has he been on the road to get to this perfect little piece of nowhere to lay low in? Days? Weeks? Months? He couldn't honestly remember.
“Mister Artimus Penstroke - Writer, Poet, Play Wright, Composer , Call Caster, Producer, Propcrafter, Philosopher, Patron of the arts, Mister Stage-show, Mister Theater - ” he monologues at himself as he walked through the gates.
“How just did you fall so low?” he said with a mix of curiosity, animosity and pity as he eyed a mud covered tentacle pony mare carrying a fagot of sticks to her workshop.
“What is
that? What the
hells is
that?” he said, squinting his eyes in disgust, watching the prehensile appendage on the mare’s forehead slither.
She looked a him and frowned, turned her nose up at him.
It bounced off him, It didn't even register, too many other detractors in his head to pay notice. He took a glance at the buildings looking words like “customs” “Immigration” “Luxury vacation hotel” or “Part of town that is not a scummy mud pit.” Alas, he found none.
“And what did you expect, exactly, Artie? A skycastle?” he counters, taking all of Tacticsmile’s . . . quaintness in.
“After the incident at the capitol, you had to absquatulate, and had very few places to absquatulate into! Be glad this place was as close as it was!” He shouted in the town center, turning a few heads.
“You are an ant, running from a boiling kettle, on a spiny, spiny world that will never be right and proper clockwise. Never forget that.” he mumbled with a paranoid caution.
He strode into the most Official looking, most decorated building.
“Hellooo!? Very important pony here, are there any semi-livable shacks in your backwards hillbilly shack town for rental or purchase?” He asked the mayor with a casual matter of fact tone. “I’m willing to pay in song.”