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[Closed Starter] Neighagra Falls Inn


PecanPraline

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Silver Stream let out a gentle sigh as she reached the front door. The Grand Galloping Gala was just a week away, which meant that for the next 7 days, everypony was going to pass by and fill up her rooms night after night as they rushed to make it to Canterlot. She didn't mind the extra business so much, it was just... The crowds. And having to turn ponies away. Normally, she wouldn't even see more than one small group of travelers at a time, but in this week, they came in huge groups. And she had to be ready for all of them.
Fortunately, she thought, I've finally managed to figure out how much supplies I need for this week of chaos. She glanced over to the stock room, whose door lay open to allow for the extra bag of apples laying in the way, due to the lack of space on the shelves. There were bags, barrels, crates, boxes, and even plates of food and drinks tucked away in there to accommodate all the ponies she would be seeing this week. She was glad she would be able to turn a profit this time around.

With one final, deep breath to prepare herself, she tapped her horn on the upper half of the door and it swung inward, creating a sort of counter over which to do business with the lower half. She stood patiently behind it, flipped the sign on the front of it to say "Vacancies", and kept her eyes on the road past the falls to wait for ponies to come by. It wasn't too long before the first group trotted up and asked for a pair of rooms. She obliged them, got them settled, then went back to her post with a pleasant smile.

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Among the initial tide of incoming ponies was one who stood in contrast to the crowd.  Not so much in appearance, as the dapper young stallion was as elegant in manner and motion as any who desired a room during the Grand Galloping Gala; but contrasting in purpose, as instead of being an out-of-towner here to reserve a room, he was a local going to the Neighagra Falls Inn to cancel a reservation.

 

Breezing through the front door, the lavender coated stallion glided languidly up to the front, ringing the little bell on the desk, despite Silver Stream already being there.  "Ah, Comrade!  It pains me so to be the bearer of bad news, but needs must.  I have been recently informed that my friend from Trottingham, a certain Might Batsman, will not be able to fulfill his room reservation, on account of his Cricket Team making it into the Test Matches.  The cry would go 'round the castle walls that he preferred the pitch and the wicket to the mares of the graceful dance, but that is news to no one who knows him.  As such, it is my solemn duty to inform you, as the august proprietor of this sacred hall of hospitality, that his room should be made available to other customers, who no doubt shall be overjoyed at the news!"

 

The whole stream of verbiage had poured out at a gentle, but unremitting pace, like that of a babbling brook.  Not forceful, but definitely beyond the power of any mere pony to halt in any way, shape, or form.  In truth, Wordsworth Psmith had mastered the art known to many horn players as 'circular breathing,' allowing the unicorn to babble on to his heart's content.

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The bell ringing startled poor Silver into a new state of alertness, since it was directly under her nose. So much so, that she initially didn't realize that the unicorn who had done the ringing was already talking to her. She gave herself a slight mental shake and quickly gave him her full attention, just in time to hear about the Cricket Team. From there, she mostly followed what he said (though it took her a moment to process it all), and after a long pause, she drew up her reservation book from beneath the table. The list of reservations itself was short, so it was easy for her to pick out the right name.

"Er, Might Batsman, was that it? Yes, he sad that it was only a tentative reservation. Thank you for informing me," she smiled politely as she crossed out the name, then put the book away. "Was there anything I could do for you, Mr...?" She trailed off to allow him to give his name.

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Psmith, being used to the fact that ponies only listened to one word out of ten that he spoke, was more than happy to inflate his verbiage tenfold.  This, of course, led to a vicious cycle of loquation inflation.  Still, on occasion, he could cut down to half his normal speech, if given proper focus, such as introductions!  "Ah, do forgive me!  My full name is Wordsworth Psmith, though I should prefer simply Psmith.  That is, P-S-M-I-T-H; the 'P' is silent, and yet, ironically, one can hear when it is left out!  The silence of its absence is audible, comrade...?"  He paused, waiting for the mare's name.

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This was far more than Silver was at all used to hearing in one go, but she did her best to focus, even writing out his name as he spelled it to her. "O-oh! Forgive me, I should've introduced myself. My name is is Silver Stream, the owner of this humble inn. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." Her smile was shy but bright and invited a smile in return. "Welcome to the Neighagra Falls Inn. I don't suppose you would need a room in your friend's absence?"

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(I'm back!)

 

Psmith blinked; he was used to many of his words being ignored, but usually his listeners would raise some kind of comment or objection to his idiosyncratic demands regarding his own name.  But, then again, Silver Stream worked in Customer Hospitality Services; no doubt a whole army of eccentrics regularly passed through her doors.  Any good Hotelier would let that pass without comment, and move on to the next point in the conversation.  

 

"Well then!  Would you prefer I refer to you as Comrade Silver, or Comrade Stream?  One does have to maintain ones egalitarian principles, regardless of any accident of birth."  As if to emphasize the point, he raised a hoof for the mare to shake, after he'd polished it on his dapper jacket, of course.  "And no, comrade, it is not a place to lay my head that I lack.  I was born and bred in this marble garden, and will of course be attending the Gala myself.  Stag, unfortunately.  My current duties have rather left me with little time or energy to pursue a dance partner, or partner of any kind these days."

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Silver blinked, then let out a laugh that sounded both genuine and bright. "Now I remember you! I saw you all the time when Granmare and I went into town for supplies. You always seemed really friendly and chatty. It's wonderful to finally meet you! And please, Silver is perfectly fine." Her hoof tapped against his, giving a soft shake.

"Is the Gala fun?" She continued once she had let her hoof drop again. "Most ponies that pass through tell a lot of stories, but they always contradict each other on details so it's hard to get any straight facts out of them."

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"Oh, Indeed, Comrade Silver!  I was a part of the planning committee last year, and I can tell you, most of the rumors concerning Prince Blueblood at that particular event are the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  He indeed has a marefriend!  A right Amazon of a pegasus, capable of tying a pony into a knot with naught but her tongue and tail.  I could introduce you, if you don't believe me.  Being personal secretary to his Royal Highness does rather have it's perks."  Like most of the nobility, he was casual about his name drops, as if the rich and famous were just ponies he happened to know, like anypony would their next-door neighbors.  Less out of snobbery than the fact that, well, they were actually his neighbors.

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"Oh, my. She does sound like a very interesting mare, hehe..." Small talk. Her biggest weakness. Now that they were straying further and further away from business, she was starting to lose her confidence. What if he asked her opinion on something she didn't know? Or worse, a personal question? She could barely keep up with the conversation now, but if it continued like this...

"I do believe you, n need to prove yourself," she added quickly, hoping to avoid being dragged into meeting even more ponies. It wasn't even that they were nobility, it was that they would want to talk to her too, and the thought alone was terrifying!

She was trying to think of a polite way to escape, even though he really had been very nice to her so far, but she couldn't. "Er..."

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As talkative as Psmith was, that didn't mean he was incapable of listening.  Not just to the words, but the tone and implications.  And the implications here were pretty clear; poor Silver Stream was nervous.  Problem was, the unicorn didn't quite know why.  "Am I keeping you from business comrade?  I do so hate to be spanner in the works of useful labor.  Work!  The sluggard's nightmare, and engine of the world!  Perhaps we should talk, after your shift?  I know a little all-hours coffee shop that would be glad to host two paying customers, only I shall pick up the tab."

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Silver blinked, her nerves and shyness forgotten for just a moment as she took in his offer.

"Oh! Well, I mean, yes I do need to get back to work. This is my busiest week after all. But are you sure you would want to wait up for me? I would be unavailable until very late, once everypony is settled... And I couldn't let you pay for me anyway!" She was flustered, and if he was paying attention he would likely catch her blushing.

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"Oh, it is no trouble at all, dear Comrade Silver!  The Prince is currently on vacation, and thus, so am I.  Having no outstanding commitments, I examine the wide possibilities of action before me, and determine that I could find no better way of spending time than with you.  As for the wait, ah!  What pleasure is not enhanced by anticipation?  And among the pleasures of your company, I must include largesse.  Do at least let me treat you to fanciest drink they have!  I believe it resembles something more of a candy bar in liquid form than anything your average Saddle Arabian would call 'coffee,' but it is a sight to behold, nonetheless."

 

That was the thing about Psmith, he very much resembled a babbling brook.  Not stormy, or forceful, but a force of nature for all that; one who could not really be stopped from going about his business.  "So I shall see you later?"

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"Really?" Her blush deepened as the flattery set in. Then she realized she hadn't talked him out of it, and even stranger, she had actually been talked into it! After a long moment of deliberation, she nodded her head. "Yes, I shall see you tonight then. It will be midnight at the earliest, I'm afraid," she added with an apologetic smile.

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Psmith was delighted when she finally accepted his invitation, and he had to admit, her blush was pretty cute!  "Ah, the moonlit midnight meeting!  Stories around the world begin and rotate around such fateful events!  Farewell until then, comrade Silver!  May the lights of your hospitality never be put out!"  And with that, he took his leave, tipping his hat magically to all the patrons who had directed curious eyes towards them.

 

~

 

Later, at midnight....

 

The coffee shop was not crowded, but neither was it empty.  Luna's return had boosted the popularity of the nocturnal life style, and so you had several ponies out on the streets in urban areas, mainly the thestral 'bat ponies' that were so often associated with the alicorn of the night.  Psmith, while not being part of either group himself, was by no means uncomfortable in such circumstances, lounging at his reserved table with all the ease of a proverbial night owl, waiting for his... would 'date' be an appropriate word at this point?   Only time would tell.

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Silver showed up just a few minutes late, a stray flower stuck in her mane just above her ear. She looked around quickly before she managed to spot the unicorn, and she trotted over to the table. Her breathing was slightly heavy as she sat across from him. Clearly, she had run to get there.

"I'm so... So sorry I'm late. One of my reservations came late and-" she took a few moments to steady her breathing then, looking apologetic as she did so.

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Psmith magnanimously gestured for Silver to take a seat.  "Worry not, comrade; the night is young yet.  And the shop is run on a twenty-four hour schedule, or so it says on the door.  Around 4am the nasty looks come out so that the janitorial staff may have full reign before the morning rush.  But enough of such boundless blitherings!  You are here, and as promised, your special drink is on order.  Unless you should prefer something simple, perhaps with a bite or two to eat?"

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"Well-" Silver began, only to be interrupted by her own stomach audibly growling. She covered it with a laugh. "Sorry, I'm afraid I haven't eaten since lunch... perhaps I should have a bite." She picked up a menu in her hooves, despite having a horn to lift it with. Her eyes flickered over it, landing on the thistle salad with honey sauce. That sounded pretty good to her, and she placed the menu down flat on the table with her hoof on the picture. "This looks wonderful. Have you had it?"

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"Goodness gracious!  This habit of skipping normal mealtimes is spreading, it seems!  I do hate to be down upon the populations of other cities, but the 'too busy to eat' culture must be kept out of Canterlot.  It bad for business and the social fabric.  Be the resistance, Comrade Silver!  Stand for your own health and dignity!"  Psmith's tone was still breezy, but a little more serious than usual.  He seemed genuinely concerned for Silver in this situation.

 

Still, he kept to a general tone all throughout, nodding approval at her choice as he sent back his own request for a set of cucumber-and-daisy sandwiches with a cup of tea.  "It is most excellent, though I am lately coming to value the simple combination of ingredients to the elaborate fixing thereof.  Let nature speak for herself, and she shall sing!  Honey and thistle, mixed with a bit of mustard, is a symphony worthy of a concert hall.  To speak of which, comrade, what are your music tastes?  Do you go for the classics, or the clubs? I do not judge either to be inferior, you understand, merely asking out of curiosity."

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She was a little surprised at his genuine show of care for her health, and gave a small appreciative smile. "I'll try to be better about it, I promise." She then listened to what he was saying, prepared for his elaborate show of words this time, although it still took her a moment to process it all. "Oh, I like most music just fine. But I have to say that classical is my favorite, particularly if it features strings prominently. I love nature and everything in it, and classical music is often inspired by nature and meant to compliment it. But I do like a song that I can sing to as well. Ponies put a lot of hard work and heart into their music, and when I can hear it in their voices, it just make it that much more enjoyable!" As she had talked, she seemed to light up, slowly becoming more animated and open as she want on. Her shyness melted as she was allowed to talk about one of her favorite things, and she was smiling.

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Pleased at the new openness of his dinner companion, Psmith grew all the more ebullient.  "Ah, a simple soul, seeking only the harmony of nature, or at least with that great mother.  I must confess a little surprise that you choose to dwell near any such city as ours, preferring as you must a garden of flowers to a garden of stones.  Tell me, is it family duties that keep you here?  An inherited business, perhaps?"

 

Psmith rather suspected that was so, but interrupted his speechifying to receive the waitress with suitably loquacious compliments as the midnight repast was laid out.  "Ah, what bountiful spread of the night-time cornucopia!  Now, Comrade Silver, I have a proposal for you: why don't you come to the Gala with me?  The music's quality I can very much speak for, though it is considerably more varied these days in terms of style.  And to see such a lovely mare as you slaving through the week when we all are celebrating, well, my conscience could hardly stand it!"

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Silver Stream had been about to reply to his question when the waitress showed up, and she seemed to clam up quickly, only speaking to give a very polite "Thank you" to the other mare. With her renewed shyness from remembering her surroundings, his new line of discussion completely caught her off guard. "M-me? Go to the Gala?! I-I just don't know I mean, who would run the inn? I mean I suppose guests that are already booked and have keys would be mostly fine on their own, but still! A manager should be on call, even if it would be only one evening... And there would be so many other ponies around. But maybe it would be fun to get out once in a while-"

Her voice had been steadily growing quieter as she seemed to change from talking to him to herself, having an anxious debate that basically boiled down to her anxiety holding her back, while her curiosity and present company were both very compelling reasons for her to go.

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Seeing her internal conflict, Psmith once more gently pressed his advantage, blunting the flank that was holding her back, and encouraging the advance of the forces that supported her going.  "Ah, but remember, that very night your guests shall all be out late themselves!  It would be a sad waste to spend the evening watching over an empty hotel.  And it is not as if you are to advance alone into hostile territory, comrade.  They shall welcome you, welcome us, with flowers, champagne, and all the finer things in life.  It is the evening in which all shall taste life as they wish to live it, free of fear and the dull restriction of routine.  That is, if one's work is not wholly bound up in such soirees, and yours, fortunately, is not."

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Silver listened to his reasoning, slowly beginning to see what he was saying. She thought about it for a few moments longer, but with her fears currently assuaged, she had to resign herself to him this once. "Well... I can see the logic in what you're saying, and I can't very well keep arguing with a generous offer. That would be rude. Yes, I would like to go with you," she concluded with a bright smile.

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Psmith beamed over his plate of sandwiches at Silver's acceptance.  "Fantastic!  I shall pick you up at early evening, and escort you to the Palace in the manner of royalty!  Not, I am afraid to say, in a carriage made from a pumpkin.  Vegetation is so rarely cultivated to such sizes, in these days of mass production and quick sales.  Ah, for the noble days of the yeoman farmer!  But then, I should be plowing a till myself in those past years, and my skill at such I have reason to doubt."

 

He paused from his locutions to eat one of his sandwiches, being a little peckish himself.  Washing it down with a swig of tea, he asked.  "May I inquire as to your parentage and ancestry?  If you are willing to say; I should hate to tread on any mourning for the departed, or secret skeletons in the closet, of which no one is without."

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Silver smiled at his response, finding his allegory amusing. She took a few small bites of her salad, and began to sip her drink when he asked his next question. It surprised her so much, that she half-choked on her drink and started to cough. Knowing he would likely hit her with a long paragraph of apology and concern, she held up one hoof to stop it preemptively. 

"N-no cough cough it's ok, I'm fine, just a small shock. I just... Don't know much. I know my parents names were Moonlit River and Valley Dasher. My grandmare, Golden Falls, is the one who raised me. Until about 6 years ago..."

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