For the first time in quite a while I am writing for a reason other than just continuity's sake. Committing to paper the events leading up to last week did quite a bit to help me: It gave me a chance to realize some of the feelings I was struggling with and an outlet to release them. I am not sure if Dawnstar knew this to be true, but I still have to thank her for the suggestion, as I have been coping much better with the situation as of late because of it.

Reading back over my previous entry, I also find that I have neglected to make any mention of how my life is actually going here in Songring. Tick Tock's death was a shock to everyone, and it has indeed taken its toll on all of us here that knew him. The settlers from the newest arrival have been kind enough to respect the period of mourning that Songring has gone through, and have been very tolerant with the lack of sleeping space and accommodations for them so far. I am working on having that situation fixed, but Keycrescents wasn't built in a day.

When I ended my journal entry last week, Maple had come to see me and was in a rather peculiar mood. Not only because she was sober, which I usually take to mean something is wrong, but also because she was glancing about my office with a perturbed expression and wandering about my dining room above. When I asked her what she was looking for, she responded that she just felt like admiring Teardrop's paintings. (The azure pony is commonly known to invade my office from time to time with new colors of dyed paint to make additional creations on the walls. I am still deciding if she does this for me, or just because it is something for her to work on that she feels does not waste resources.) I wandered alongside Maple to converse a bit, but mostly just because I was uncomfortable having her search around my living space. Our conversation came to an abrupt halt when she discovered the bedroll set up on the second story.

"Huh... so you got a roommate now, Ben?"

"I guess you could say that. That's Dawnstar's bedroll. You might know her; she's my new assistant from Canterlot."

"Yeah... yeah, I saw some fancy unicorn come in and out of here a lot. Guess she does get some special treatment being the first mate and all. Dawnstar is the new privileged from Canterlot then, huh? What'd she do to end up out here?"

"She's a student of a prestigious school there, and Celestia sent her here on an internship so she could learn a bit about my job. It's also not special treatment: She just feels that she can most readily available if she is nearby in case I need to consult with her on anything, so she decided to move into, well, what was my dining room."

"Intern? She's not gonna replace you, is she?"

"I wish, but no such luck. She's just here to observe and learn."

I could tell Maple was feeling a bit spurned at the moment by my insinuation that I wished to leave. "... Good. We don't need her being the one running the show around here. Keep a tighter leash on her too, will you? She's been telling everypony what to do like she runs the place."

"She's handing out my work orders, Maple, just like Overcast did. Is there something wrong with the work I'm assigning you? I figured you wouldn't mind helping Willow and Teak with making the wooden planks. If it's a problem, I can find you something else to work on."

Folding her legs in front of her as she sat up, she whipped the ponytail her mane was tied into behind her to glance back at the bedroll distastefully. "Nah, the work is fine, I can handle it. I just don't like her being the one pushing me and everypony else around."

"I'm still making the decisions. I don't see what the problem is with having her relay the information back to everyone. She's just doing the same thing Overcast did for me, but faster and more precisely."

"It's... you just do it different is all, and Overcast (bless his short little head) was a lot better about it because he let us get around to it on our own time."

"You only heeded his “suggestions” about half of the time, Maple."

"Yeah, well, you had assigned stupid stuff those days."

"I fail to see how stripping the tree limbs near the dormitory so they don't fall and crash through the roof at a later time is “stupid stuff”. It took me having to come to you personally to finally get it done."

"Fine! Have her give out the stupid work orders then, we'll deal with it. Don't expect me to like your new little pet though."

"She's not my pet! She's also not receiving special treatment! I don't know where you're getting this idea from, Maple, or why you're even concerned about it."

"So you mean you'd be okay with me moving in here too?" I stared at her blankly before she resumed her thought with a glower. "I mean, if it's not special treatment and all, it should be fine if I decide to start bunking in here instead. How about I throw a bedroll over your desk and crash there? You won't need it at night anyways, right?"

"Okay, now you're just being problematic. I don't have it in me to argue with you. Do you have anything important to tell me or are you just here to cause a fuss? If all you wish to do is complain, I'd be happy to write it down and address it when I am better prepared."

"If its space you're worried about, why don't I just stay in your bed then? I don't take up that much room; we can both fit on there."

"Seriously, cut it out. I haven't got the patience for this."

"I'm sure she's already gotten to sleep on Master's bed like a good dog."

"That's enough!" As my shout rang through the small building, Maple's ears pinned back against her head and she grew quiet. "I don't know what the hell your problem is with me, Maple, but I've got more important things to concern myself with than your pissy fits! With that understood, you can remove yourself from my quarters, go about your business, and don't speak to me again until you're ready to do something more productive than bitch about my arrangements! Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly, keeping her ears pinned back unhappily. Her head slumped down as she began to trudge towards the stairwell, heeding my request to get out. "It's not you I have a problem with, Ben. It's her." She paused to wait for me to say something, but I was too agitated to respond back with anything that I would not regret later. All she received was the tapping of my foot while I waited for her to leave. Halfway down the stairs, she called back up one more time, "I guess I should tell the fellas that you're not going to meet up with us tonight then?"

"I haven't scheduled anything with anyone tonight. When did I agree to meet with these “fellows”?"

"You didn't. I was coming to ask if you'd come hang out with us for a while. You never showed up for the Winter Wrapped Up party, and you haven't really shown your face since... y'know, the accident. They're just starting to think you don't like them anymore is all."

"They think that, or you think that?"

"I'm pretty sure you don't like me right now, so mostly them."

"Exactly what do they want from me this evening?"

"To stop being a freaking gremlin and come out of your hiding hole for a while! Believe it or not, some of us happen to miss seeing you around and being something other than this shadow figure, hermit, wizard thing living alone in his tower watching us from afar all day! Dammit Ben, it's not that hard to grasp." With that, I saw her jade eyes peek back over the stairwell again as she stood on her hind legs to view me. "Even if she isn't taking your job, this Dawnstar gal pretty much replaced what little we ever got to see of you. You know that isn't fair, Ben, to bait and switch me like that."

Folding my arms, I did my best to take a deep breath and let go of my irritation. "Is that what this is all about? Are you mad that she gets to see me more than you do?"

"What if I said yes? What if I said that I'm jealous that she gets to spend so much time with you and the rest of us barely get to see a glimpse of you outside of your cave here anymore? What would you say to that?"

"I'd probably have to say that you continue to bemuse me to no end, Maple." With that, I followed her path to the stairs and motioned for her to go, despite the befuddled stare she gave me. "Then I would tell you that I'm sorry, and that while I may not understand why you all would feel that way, I will do my best to break the habit. I'll come along this evening."

Being the enigmatic monster she is, my touching acquiesce was responded to with the request, "So while you're being this nice to me, I want the side of your bed away from the window too." I didn't dignify her quip with an answer, just a motion for her to continue down the stairs and that I would follow her lead. I truly have issues with her joking in that way. Am I just too touchy? Maybe I am a bit prudish that I can't just laugh it off and take it in stride as it is intended. Instead I find myself at a loss for words and in dire discomfort over it.

Then, to my dismay, I had to consider that she may not have been joking after all. She also was not inebriated, which makes it all the more possible. Depending on the nature (and species) of the reader, this may seem like a silly thing to be concerned with or upset about, but try to understand my point of view if possible: It's a talking horse that wants to sleep in my bed. Many may be thinking that I am jumping to conclusions, but I am old enough to know that someone beyond the age of twelve wishing to reside in the same bed as someone else means there is a possibility of that. If you believe otherwise, well then you may have been home schooled or are painfully naive. Or perhaps you're from Equestria; maybe things really are that different here.

How are baby ponies even made here exactly? What I'm worried about may not even be a common occurrence. I mean, with all the magic and such, perhaps there's something more complicated involved. I don't know anyone well enough to ask that question though. I'll just have to leave it a mystery for now, and continue struggling to think of a kind way to say, "I don't like horses in that way."

The meeting with the “fellas” that Maple was referring to turned out to be a gathering of the seven ponies who were on the original expedition to Songring. It seems to be some sort of prestige group they are holding onto, as if it is some higher honor that they were here first. I might agree with them, except those who came later have put just as much work into Songring as the eight of us have, if not more. It does still happen to be something we have in common. Yes, we. They believe me to be part of this little group with them, and that I am their friend despite my position and antisocial tendencies.

Sitting with them on stools around a circular table located near the bar (Snifter had set up this arrangement in one corner of the dining hall as a workstation), was rather therapeutic. I had arrived still rather dour, pretty much as I had been during my previous entry. I ignored Willow's greeting of, "For Celestia's sake, you look like somepony died, Ben." I'm not sure if he was trying to be funny and failing at it terribly, or if he was really that addled. As the evening went on though, their cheerfulness was infectious. At first I could not understand how everyone was able to just forget, and after an hour or so of them laughing and smiling, I had to ask them.

"Is there no mourning to be done? How can you all be so jovial?" I can mostly describe the looks I received back to be incredulous. Sitting next to Maple, I felt one of her wings brush over my shoulder as she shook her head in some faint, morbid amusement. "How can you all just get over it so quickly?"

"I take some offense to that, Mr. Prodder," Salmon piped up, clearing his throat abruptly. "To insinuate that we have just forgotten one of our own. It's not like that at all. One does not just “get over” such a tragedy, we simply are pushing on."

"It's been over four weeks," Maple added, as her hoof came to rest on my shoulder, "The initial sting of the whole thing is gone. It's time to look forward. Songring will still keep going, even without him, and we've got to keep up with it."

"I think I know what the problem is..." Teardrop lifted her head up more so that her voice could be heard. "I don't know what it's like for humans, Mr. Overseer, but I think that maybe the best way to say it is that once the situation has passed, and the first feelings of sadness are gone, then you get to decide." I asked her what she meant by that, but she lowered her head and got quiet quickly as though I had persecuted her. Overcast had to tell her it was okay and that he specifically wanted to hear what she had to say before she would continue. "What's the point in being miserable all the time? Sometimes you can't control feelings, but other times it is a choice whether you want to be happy or sad."

"Tick Tock wasn't selfish enough to be somepony who wanted everypony else to stay sad about him." Springfield kept his explanation short and sweet, returning to the mug in front of him with his usual taciturn demeanor.

Salmon began some long-winded explanation to me of how they came to cope with the scenario, but I was much too distracted to hear him out. Instead, I had caught a glimpse of Silence, locking eyes with her as she stared back at me. I felt a chill as her gaze bore into me, her eyes resembling the cold grey hue of uncut stone, while the faint aura around her horn reappeared. I heard what I assume to be her voice once again over Salmon's ramblings. "There are so many words here, but there is only one meaning behind them. Do you understand what they are trying to tell you?"

"Can you hear my thoughts? Is this only one way?" I asked this to myself in my head, still staring Silence in the eyes with my brow furrowed in uncertainty. Could I understand what they were trying to tell me? "All I can gather is that they mean to not let my emotions rule me."

"I will only see what you wish me to see right now," she responded first, nodding gently across the table from me. "That is not quite what they have in mind for you to understand. To put it in a way you will find logical, they mean to say that there is no true reason to hold onto the sorrow of what has happened. Life out here is difficult enough as it is, and will only be made more complicated if we choose to give in to despair."

"So you all don't feel bad about what happened?"

"We did feel sorrow, and we did mourn, but we also communicated it and released it. Now we have the choice of whether to dwell on what cannot be changed, or look forward to that which still has the fortune of being undecided and we may actually be able to shape. Life as a settler is hard, and there is no reason to make it harder by focusing on regret."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Yet you insist on making it so difficult."

Just one of the many times I have been told recently that I am doing something wrong. I am becoming rather used to it by now, sadly; being told that the way I think, the way I act, the thoughts I have, and what I know all happen to be wrong. Back on Terriel I would be called an intellectual; here I am considered a fool. Upon the list of misconceptions I must have already given the residents of Equestria so far, I have now added that we are all manic depressives (by their standards), we beat and threaten children, and we have no love for our fellow individual at all. I think I have made a wonderful ambassador so far.

The conversation continued between the two of us while the rest of the group began speaking of something else. (I believe the topic changed to chats about what was going on at home for everyone, and who they were expecting a letter from come the arrival of the courier in summer.) It seems that I was as curious about her as she was about me.

"This is only the second time we've ever communicated. Is there a reason for this Silence? Aside from the uncomfortable concept of having you inside my head that is."

"Your mind is a rather intimidating place, Benjamen. So many numbers and words. You think in writing: Your thoughts are notes, and your memories are novels that I dare not open. Not to mention, there is always music. Your mind is such a hectic and busy place; I am impressed with how you cope, and how clear and precise you sound."

"I don't understand exactly. Isn't everyone the same in that regard? Doesn't everyone think in words? I think it's rather intimidating that you can read my mind if you so choose. I believe I read that such magic is commonly illegal here."

"I exercise responsibility as to retain my privilege. If I did not use this, then my life would consist of poorly performed games of charades. As for your question: Everypony's mind is not similar. You do not think in spoken words: Your thoughts are written on a page in the canvas of your mind. Springfield thinks in the form of pictures, both moving and still. Maple’s thoughts are in the form of feelings and the sensations of her body. Teardrop thinks in the image of colors and vague shapes. I myself know that I think in voice, which is why you believe you hear me right now. It is hard to describe; it just shocks me with how busy your thoughts remain that you are coherent at all. You must be a musician too."

"You can hear that? It's called "Upon a Nocturnal Rendezvous". That's not my creation. Its something I have downloaded from someone else... well... this is complicated, but it's a device in my brain that is playing that music, not me. I just can't shut if off because it is damaged."

"You poor soul." She became genuinely concerned for me when I confided the truth about my dilemma, her expression became sympathetic. "Can you fix it?"

"If I could, I would have. It's been this way since I arrived here in Equestria over a year ago. Until I can find a way home, I'm afraid it may be stuck this way." She tried to suggest many ways we might correct it, but all of them were impossible. To be honest, it would require open-head maintenance on my cranial mesh to fix it, and that would require a Neurosurgical Technician to accomplish. I highly doubt any of these ponies could qualify as one, and the risk involved with such operations is high, so I would rather not have them fidgeting around in my open skull with their hooves while holding surgical instruments in their teeth.

I will only include one other note that I found interesting from our conversation, as I have spent quite a bit of space on the encounter already. I asked her if she had ever abused this spell of hers to get information out of others. Her answer was rather interesting to me:

"If you were given a key to enter somepony's house to sleep there instead of sleeping outside, would you purposely go through their laundry out of curiosity? I am grateful enough to have the ability to get across my thoughts without needing to keep a quill and paper with me to not let my curiosity overcome my common decency."

The rest of the evening went rather smoothly, once we agreed to return to the group's conversation. I remained quiet, mostly because quite a bit that they were speaking of was based on past experiences. I could not fully relate to them due to the kind of life I had lived back on Terriel, just as they could not compare their stories to most of mine. The one conversation I will remember the most was when the question came up as to everyone's reason for joining in the expedition in the first place.

Springfield: "It was time for me to find a place I could call my own."

Salmon: "My twilight years spent in the cool morning air on a sandy beach with a fishing pole in hoof. How could I turn down such a living?"

Willow: "You schmucks wouldn't make it without me and you know it. I'm here because it's my duty to my fellow pony to be here."

Overcast: "I figured it couldn't be any worse anyways. Not like my life was going anywhere back home."

Maple: "Times are tough. There are worse ways for a gal to be making a living than as a settler."

Teardrop: "I wanted experience and inspiration. I need something to share with ponies through my art, right?"

I do believe I won though. "I was looking for my dad, but got duped by a rodent into coming to Equestria and shot a Goddess in the neck instead." Most of them did not know what to make of this. The only verbal response was from Willow:

"Wow, that's pretty hardcore."

With that, I have kept Dawnstar waiting silently for nearly half an hour now. She has something she needs to go over with me, and refuses to interrupt me while I am writing unless I directly address her. One of these days, I believe I will start writing a novel just to see how many hours she will remain standing in front of my desk before she gives up or interrupts me. What would I write about though? I'll consider it while I pretend to listen to whatever she has for me.