//------------------------------// // A Most Wondrous Encounter // Story: Interview With a Princess // by Hoopy McGee //------------------------------// Amazement. Shock. Incredulity. The English language totally fails to accurately portray the feeling you get when a character out of complete fiction steps out of nowhere and begins talking to you. Imagine if you suddenly were face to face with Santa Claus. Or an alien. Or Kermit the Frog, walking around and playing the banjo while singing “The Rainbow Connection”. Whatever you think your reaction is likely to be, it will probably be more like this: First, you will stand there for a long moment, while your brain fizzes and pops. No coherent thoughts will surface. No words, no expressions come to mind. You are literally in complete idleness while your mind is locked up in an endless loop of denying the evidence that your senses stupidly insist on presenting. Second, once your mind begins to get some traction, but before you have a chance to think you’re dreaming or hallucinating, you’ll make some incredibly odd and squeaky noises, while your language center tries to engage your voice with numb and fumbling fingers while simultaneously having nothing coherent to say. Third, you’ll probably try to convince yourself that this can’t be happening, either by thinking it’s a dream or hallucination, as I mentioned above. There’s no shame in this, it’s a coping mechanism. Try to get through this quickly, though, because you’re missing the good parts. Fourth, as the brain starts actually firing again, you’ll probably say something really stupid. My stupid thing to say was “You really exist?” Having found something that worked, even if poorly, your brain may decide to give it another shot, perhaps switching around the inflections, such as “You really exist?” and “You really exist?” and finally, as things start kicking into high gear, a full out exclamation, such as “You really exist!!” At least, that’s how it happened for me. Your mileage may vary, depending on what suddenly non-fictional character you’re presented with, your mindset, and your ability to accept the ludicrously impossible. The fifth thing that may happen, as happened to me, is that your brain decides that it needs whatever processing power it can grab, and decides to free up resources by cutting your control to your legs. I sat down hard. The good news was that I missed the fire pit. That would have been… uncomfortable, and would have likely ruined the rest of my night, magical pony Princesses or no. The bad news was that I also missed my lawn chair. I did not, however, miss the sidewalk. I fell flat on my backside in front of the Princess (who, now that I know she exists, rates the capital “P” in in the title of “Princess”). Then, for an encore, I gaped at her like, I imagine, a rather surprised bass. The Princess stepped forward with a look of concern on her face. “Are you alright?” She asked me. After I managed to nod dumbly (honestly, I felt that fall for days afterward, but at the moment, I could have broken a limb and barely noticed) she continued on to say, “If you didn’t know that I existed, why did you invite me to visit you for an interview?” An interview. Was that what I had written? I had spent hours on that dumb letter, and I couldn’t even remember what it said! Good lord, I asked the Princess-Goddess of all Equestria to come to my house in the middle of Minneapolis Minnesota… for an interview?! What in the world was I thinking, wasting her time like this? But hot on the heels of this thought was the sheer amazement of “I get to interview Celestia!” while inside my mind my inner child bounced excitedly off of the walls and jumped up and down on my mental furniture. “It’s… complicated,” I told her. I thought for a moment, and then blurted out awkwardly, “I was hoping you were real but I didn’t think you really were!” So, really not complicated at all, then. The Princess stared at me for a moment, then laughed, gentle like a waterfall and infectious. It didn’t take long before I was laughing too. I stood and, still somewhat numb from shock, managed a very shaky bow. “I’m honored that you came, Princess. Thank you.” Celestia inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. Then she stared at me. I was wondering why she was staring, when it suddenly occurred to me that she was likely staring at me because I had been staring at her first. This may be a good time, with all that staring going on, for descriptions. I’ll avoid describing me, since you know what humans look like (we're downright dull). Instead, I’ll describe her. And if you think you know what Celestia looks like because you’ve seen her on the cartoon, then you’ve got another think coming. The first thing to know is that the cartoon Celestia, while definitely being identifiable as Celestia, is still a cartoon. In other words, it looked as much like the real Celestia as a cartoon person looks like a real person. The real Celestia was slightly shorter than I am, which is just an inch under six feet tall, unless you count the horn, which extended half a foot higher than my head. She was, very obviously, equine in nature. The artistic compromises of the show left out the details, such as the very real hair of her hide and the smooth muscling underneath it. However, I had seen horses before, and their hides looked nothing like this. Celestia gleamed white, perfectly groomed and not a hair out of place. Which, on a pony is saying something. Saying that she was equine in nature, however, was like saying that a supermodel is really just a really a type of monkey. A regular, Earth horse or pony just doesn’t compare. Her features were much finer, much more mobile and expressive. Her eyes were larger, more expressive and far more intelligent than any horse I had ever seen (or human, for that matter). Her snout (muzzle? I really need to look up the anatomy terms!) was far shorter than the average horse. Her limbs seemed almost delicate at the same time that they had an undeniable power. As for the mane and tail… Oh, yes, the mane and tail. I could stare at those for hours. Like in the show, they rippled in a non-existent wind. Unlike the show, the hairs of her mane and tail were individual and distinct. All the colors of the rainbow were represented, not just the turquoise, teal, lavender and pink that make up her mane in the show. The hair itself was rippling, and the colors changed along the hair as it did. The effect was joyful and serene at the same time. I had the feeling that the hair was dancing with a wind that I couldn’t feel. And the effect was hypnotic, in a way I can’t even begin to describe. Her wings… Those defied description. Even gracefully folded along her sides, I could tell that they were considerably larger than in the show. The feathers were the same gleaming alabaster white as her coat, but with a mild pinkish tinge at the tips. The horn, spiraling seamlessly from her forehead, was not plain white by any means, but had a sheen to it that reminded me of mother-of-pearl. Once again, all the colors of the rainbow, but shifting and subtle as it caught the light. She was wearing none of the jewelry that you see in the show. Not the tiara, not the big necklace, and not those strange shoes. Which meant that I could see her actual hooves as well. They were surprisingly small and well formed, especially compared to an actual horse or pony hoof. And they shone as if polished, with the same rainbow gleam that her horn displayed. And her cutie mark… “Cutie mark”, such an absurd thing to call it, when you see the real thing. The stylized sun in miniature very nearly blazed on Celestia’s flanks. It was indescribable. I’ll try anyway. It looked… it looked like the cutie mark was projecting through her, somehow more real, more… complete, though that’s not the right word… vivid works better but is still not right… it’s more vivid and alive than any tattoo or body paint could ever be. It gave the sense that the rays of the sun were in motion, even though they weren't. Oh, and at this point, you may be wondering how I was able to see her so clearly when the sun was down and the only nearby light source was from a dying fire. That’s simple. That fire wasn’t the nearest light source. The nearest was Celestia herself. She shone like a beacon in the advancing night. And I was suddenly very aware of how conspicuous she was. It was time to take this party indoors, in other words, and I was incredibly grateful for the tall privacy fence around our tiny backyard. “Ah… Princess,” I said finally, breaking the long moment of silence, “Perhaps we should move indoors? My neighbors might get curious, and it’s going to get chilly now that the sun is down.” I noticed Celestia stare briefly off to the west, a look of concentration on her face. She blinked suddenly and looked surprised. I filed that away as a question to ask later, however, as she said, “I agree. If you don’t mind letting me into your home, I would be glad to accompany you.” As I led Celestia through the backdoor and into my house, I suddenly had to get a firm grip on myself to stop myself from laughing uncontrollably. See, my wife insists that casual guests remove their shoes before entering the house. I wasn’t sure if Celestia wore shoes or not. While she wasn’t wearing any of the regalia you see in the show, I certainly wasn’t about to ask her if she was wearing horseshoes. And even if she were, I’d happily accept any scolding my wife could dish out for our scuffed up hardwood floors. Once inside, however, I found myself completely at a loss for what to say. To have the actual Princess Celestia inside my actual house made things even more surreal for me. I felt a moment of dizziness pass over me and had just enough time to wonder if I was going to black out, when Celestia spoke. “Oh, my!” she said, “What a charming home you have!” Somehow, that statement grounded me again, and I was able to focus. Old habits, after all, die hard. And now I had a guest in my house. A magical, equestrian guest, perhaps, but a guest nonetheless. My host reflexes, trained into me over a period of years by my wife, kicked in, much to my relief. I now knew exactly how to act. “Why, thank you Princess! You are too kind. Please, allow me to show you in!” With that, I took her quickly through the kitchen (where the back door was located) and showed Celestia a few of our appliances, which seemed to fascinate her. Perhaps they don’t have microwaves and refrigerators in Equestria? Or perhaps, being a Princess, she never had much call to be in a kitchen? I may never know. After that, we toured quickly through the dining room, where Celestia stopped to look interestedly into the built-in hutch that held my wife’s grandmothers antique China dishes. I briefly mentioned that the built-ins had been included with the original design of the house, but we had to restore them after a previous owner had painted over them. The glass was new, and the woodwork newly stained, which looked much better. I also commented on how the house was over a century old (belatedly realizing that a presumably immortal Princess would likely be less than impressed by that fact, and yet I soldiered on!) It was when we reached the living area that I realized that there might be a problem. That realization came just as I was saying the following phrase: “Please, Princess, feel free to make yourself… at… home… “ You may have realized the difficulty I faced well before I did. Simply put, I didn’t have much in the way of furniture that ponies might find comfortable. I stopped, completely flustered for a moment, but Celestia never missed a beat. She thanked me graciously, then folded herself up quite neatly on our couch, which was just barely large enough to hold her comfortably. With her legs tucked up underneath her, she looked far less intimidating, which may have helped my hosting sensibilities return, because it suddenly occurred to me to offer her a drink. I ran through the options that we had, and she stopped me at lemonade. I quickly ran back out to the kitchen, grabbed the pitcher, some ice, and two glasses, and hurried back out to the dining room. The wave of unreality hit me again as I regarded Celestia, curled up on my couch like an overlarge housecat. With hooves, wings, and a horn. Shaking myself, I moved as calmly as I could out into the living room, poured out the lemonade, and had a seat myself. It shouldn’t have shocked me when her horn glowed and the glass raised itself to her lips. It really shouldn’t have. But it still did. It was one thing, I learned at that moment, to see a magical creature. It was quite another to see actual magic being performed, and in your own house! I was utterly fascinated. If my rapt attention to what must have been for Celestia the very mundane act of drinking lemonade bothered her in the least, she never showed a sign of it. Instead, she complimented me on the lemonade. Then she looked me firmly in the eye, and said this to me: “And now, I imagine, it is time to start this interview.” Then, as I nodded emphatically, she continued on to say, “However, if you don’t mind… I would like to ask a few questions of you, first.” I instinctively felt that my day had just gotten a lot more complicated.