Harmony Games

by Thessur

Chapter 4: Arrival

The colts and fillies from each district are always presented in a dramatic costume parade before entering training. The costumes are supposed to reflect the districts they come from. However, the fashion designers put in charge of the looks for the chosen take the opportunity to use the parade to show off (and hopefully set new trends for the Capitol ponies). This means that the outfits are usually over-the-top, ridiculous and tricked out with the latest fashion magic. Most years it’s hard to even see the colts and fillies under the costumes.

I’m dreading whatever monstrosities the designers have cooked up for Field District this year. Usually it’s some excessively sparkly interpretation of “ancient” settler garb. Supposedly this is inspired by the settler ponies who originally tamed the wilds of our district long before the Last War. Once or twice there have been other themes, usually something equally tacky and glitzy based on the supposed outfits the native Buffalo wore before they were driven out of Equestria, or some skimpy “farmer” get-up that would be destroyed in seconds by actual work.

As we leave the train and Canterlot station, we are led by Bauble with Cider shooing us along from behind to keep us from gawking like the yokels we are. The whole building seems to be made of glass panes, forming a gigantic dome which allows a full 360 degree view of Canterlot. The buildings around us are huge, seeming to almost touch the clouds. They are every color of the rainbow, looking like they are made of giant spires of candy. They glisten in the noonday sun, without a hint of dust or other pollution in the air. They must have a whole army of ponies just to keep the city clean!

I manage to tear my eyes away just in time to keep from bumping into the rump of the big unicorn colt (Rockjaw, I remember upon seeing his cutie mark of a rock from just inches away). I quickly back up a step and peer around him, craning my neck to try and see why we stopped. We are standing in front of a set of metal doors. They slide open, disappearing into the walls to reveal a small room lined with mirrors. There is barely room for the eight of us as we squeeze inside, herded in by Cider. There is a panel of buttons inside and Bauble pushes one marked “C”. The doors slide shut and my stomach does a barrel-roll as the room suddenly feels as though it’s falling!

I let out an involuntary squeal of panic and look for a way out of this death-trap. Rockjaw, who is looming next to me, reaches up a forehoof and pats my head. “S’ok kid. Just a lift. Like town hall.”

I think that may be the most he’s said the entire trip. His calm voice cuts through my panic long enough for me to remember that lift in town hall. It was only put in last year (registration for the Games is held in the second floor of the building, so Redneck and I got to take a couple rides up and down) and it is nowhere near as fast and smooth as the thing we’re riding in, but I realize he must be right. I hear snickers from a couple of the others at my outburst. Bauble only makes it worse when he smiles that painted-on smile of his at me and says in a condescending tone “Don’t fret darling, you aren’t the first Chosen to get a little spooked by the elevator. They are called elevators here, not ‘lifts’ as they are in… quainter places.”

I grit my teeth for the rest of the ride. After a few more endless moments, the ride finally ends and the doors slide open again. I barely manage to suppress a moan of relief as we walk out into the sun. We are in some sort of courtyard or fancy garden. There are six huge tents on the immaculately trimmed lawn, each marked with a number. Another group of colts and fillies are being led to the tent marked with the number 3; they must be the Polish district Chosen. I look ahead and see our tent. It is right next to the bank of a big stream which runs through the courtyard and, unlike the other five tents, it has no roof.

Bauble ushers us inside our ‘tent’, colts to one side and fillies to the other with a cloth wall separating us. We are greeted with bubbly enthusiasm by the brightest colored mares I’ve ever seen. There are three of them, all a bright neon green that actually glows, with their manes each dyed another glowing color. One is florescent orange, one is lightning blue and one is such a vibrant purple it hurts to look at. Actually, it hurts to look at any of them. They are all wearing skin-tight body suits covered in glitter in rainbow colors. The orange one grabs Crystal, the unicorn, by the hoof and starts fussing over her and helping her into a steaming tub. The earthpony filly is given the same treatment by the blue one, leaving me with the purple one. I hope my eyes aren’t permanently damaged by prolonged exposure to her.

I hear a complaint from the earthpony filly. “Why doesn’t our tent have a roof? Aren’t we all supposed to get equal treatment?”
“Quit whining Heartsong.” Crystal snaps from her tub. From what I can see, she seems to be enjoying the ministrations of her glowing attendant.
Heartsong fights off her attendant and stands up in her tub to glare at the unicorn filly. “I am NOT whining! I am complaining. Do you want to hear whining?”

“Now now darling, no need for that.” A voice booms out above us. It sounds male, and yet oddly effeminate. I look up and feel my jaw dropping again. It seems to be doing that a lot lately. Above us looms a huge, purple sea-serpent. His hair, though perfectly styled, is gray with age. That is, it’s all gray except for one side of his long and impressive mustache. While the right side is a dignified gray and straight, the left side is a deep purple and tumbles in a gently curled wave. His voice booms out over us again.

“I am Steven Magnet. I’m your stylist and I’m the reason your tent doesn’t have a roof. I told the event planners not to bother making a tent big enough to fit me when they could just leave off the top so I could see inside. I must say, you all look simply fabulous! It will be an absolute pleasure getting each of you dressed for the parade.”
He flashes a brilliant smile at us and I see Heartsong swoon out of the corner of my eye.

“Oh dear, is the mint-colored one alright?”
The sea serpent leans down to look at her with genuine concern. I think I like him.

Author's Note:

Yay! New chapters! Sorry about the long hiatus. Thank you to anyone who is still reading. :)

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