Apples. Apple cider, apple fritters, baked apples... almost everything edible here is made of apples. That's what I get for landing in a town of herbivores, I guess.
Geralt had to admit that Pinkie Pie - so he had learned the pink mare was named - threw a good party. The town square was alive with music and dancing folk, and the ponies who had once fled from him now reveled near him without a second thought.
At first, the ponies had crowded Geralt with questions, which he had hastily and curtly answered while trying to navigate to the buffet. Pinkie had put an end to that and distracted the ponies with games, and Geralt had descended upon the table with a mind not unlike ghouls on a mass grave.
Alas, between daffodil sandwiches, dandelion salads, clover-and-lemon pie, and so on, Geralt had struggled to find something he could safely use to break his fast. He had finally given up on the food for the time being and navigated to the nearest keg, because even an herbivorous species must enjoy a good beer, he figured.
He was half-right. And, being fair, warm, fresh apple cider was hardly something a road-worn witcher would turn their nose up at. Spying his preference for apples over the other fare, Pinkie had had another table of food brought, faster than the witcher could have unbuckled his boots, this one laden with apple treats he actually recognized.
It seems I owe gratitude to this 'Pinkie'. These ponies seem to know what a human is, and I haven't disabused them of the notion, yet. It's like stumbling across a group of merry halflings, in more ways than one.
Geralt took another idle bite of his baked apple, watching the party's goings-on, and got the sense he was being watched. Checking to his sides, he saw a small yellow pegasus with a pink mane and mark on her haunches watching him from nearby.
Hah! I knew I'd seen a pegasus before. I wonder if those tiny wings actually enable flight.
The small pegasus leaned forward slightly and spoke to the witcher.
"Um, excuse me, sir, but... are you a carnivore?"
Geralt briefly considered lying about his eating habits, given that he had found himself exclusively surrounded by herbivores, but thought better of it. He discreetly shrugged his shoulder, repositioning his swords where he could reach them more easily; the subconscious reflex of a witcher that had faced many unexpected battles.
"Humans eat both plants and meat, but can't process roughage like hay or grass, and many flowers are toxic."
Geralt had been careful not to refer to himself as human, nor to deny it outright.
I'd like for the charade to go on a bit longer before risking everyone bolting to their houses again.
For her part, the small pegasus mare just nodded understandingly.
"I take care of a lot of meat-eating animals, you know. If you want, I can catch some fish for you."
Geralt felt something between insult and shame at having such a dainty creature offer to hunt for him, but he also felt a deep sense of gratitude. Here, thought the witcher, I am actually welcome, it seems.
Geralt gave a shake of his head, but he smiled – not a horrible, violent smile, or a sarcastic one, as the witcher was prone to, but a genuine smile. The witcher did not know it, but it brightened his countenance considerably.
"No, thank you, miss. I can certainly fish for my own supper, and apples are still a far sight better than what I often make do with. But I do appreciate the offer. Your village's hospitality has been a welcome surprise, certainly. In case Pinkie has not told you, my name is Geralt."
The witcher knelt down to offer a hand to shake, as he'd seen ponies doing something similar at the party, and was rewarded with a gentle hoof motion.
"Fluttershy."
As he rose, Geralt noticed a white unicorn approaching. He desperately struggled to throttle memories of Yen and her stupid stuffed unicorn.
A unicorn! A real unicorn! She can more than likely get me back home.
Geralt gave a curt nod and a slightly incline of his back, smirking as he did so. The rumor through the land had been that Geralt bowed before no one, but that was hardly true; Geralt had bowed, even knelt before royalty before, especially when family was involved. He simply refused to give respect where it was demanded and not earned; the people of this village had done enough to earn tentative respect from the witcher immediately.
For her part, the unicorn blushed and grinned, giving a very impressive bow of her own, sweeping her right hoof across her chest and dipping her head low, as though the two were about to dance.
Geralt hoped very deeply the two were not about to dance.
The unicorn rose and spoke to him in a smooth, playful timbre.
"Greetings, darling. Geralt of Rivia, correct?"
"Correct."
Geralt immediately regretted his tendence towards curt, borderline aggressive statements, as it made him feel like a boor where this unicorn was clearly trying to be kind. Thankfully, she seemed undeterred.
"I've never heard of Rivia, darling. Is that where you got that smashing outfit?"
Geralt looked down to the nice linen jacket he wore over his maille armor. It was mostly black, with some silver trim in places, and had been a matter of pride for him back in civilization – despite Dandelion's insistence that Geralt couldn't pick out a decent outfit in the middle of a fine tailor's.
Joke's on you again, bard.
"No, miss. I purchased this in Novigrad, far from my homeland. But tell me, to whom do I speak?"
Damnit, should have said 'who graces me with their presence' or some such hogwash. Witcher, you've stood in royal audiences dozens of times, how is it you've learned nothing?
Still the unicorn lass seemed unbothered by his manners.
"I am Rarity, fashionista nonpareil, owner of the Carousel Boutique. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Geralt."
The unicorn proffered a hoof, which the witcher quickly knelt down to shake, silently wondering why or how ponies could have invented such a gesture in the first place. As he released her and stood up, he noted something like faint disappointment on her features, but it quickly vanished as she spoke again.
"So, Geralt, if you've ever need of a new outfit, you know where to go! And I do see you've suffered from some scrapes and so on in the Everfree Forest; I'd be glad to mend those for you for free, if you'll stop in for a fitting."
For free? A proper mending usually costs a half-dozen crowns, especially for work this fine...
"Thank you, Rarity. I may take you up on that. It's very generous of you."
Rarity smiled knowingly, and with another short bow, she parted ways to mingle with the crowd. Geralt turned over what had happened in his mind.
She's a business-owner... did she approach me to network?
Geralt laughed to no one in particular, and took another bite of his apple.