Libel arrived, landing just in front of the gates. Being Canterlot, she saw there were many unicorns about, with pegasi and earth ponies forming a decidedly small minority in comparison. "Mother knows best," she grunted out, folding her wings in close.
She wore a dress, voluminous and unwieldy. She had to fly slowly with the darn thing on, but it made her look like a 'proper' mare. It also kept her horrible secret hidden from view, so at least it did something right. She saw a unicorn looking over slips of papers before other well-dressed ponies sauntered past him.
She joined the line, tail lashing agitatedly behind her. "This is so stupid."
"You're telling me?" asked a unicorn stallion behind her. "I mean, really. As if I couldn't select a partner on my own. My parents are so regressive it's physically painful at times."
Libelous turned an ear back. "You got forced into this by the folks too?"
"As if I'd be here otherwise." He rolled his eyes and tossed his soft blue mane. "At least you look interesting. I don't see very many upper-crust pegasi, but you have the feeling."
She smiled wryly at that. "Trained into me over years of 'proper education'."
"I know the feeling." He reached over, giving her rump one pat. "Let's endure this together. Perhaps we can find a friend worth having, if nothing else. What is it you do, something weather related?"
Libelous frowned at that. It was so easy to assume all pegasi handled weather... "Journalism," she spat out. "Libelous Word, of the Words. Nice to meet you, Mister..."
"Oooo, a Word, of course." He nodded his head quickly. "How absolutely absurd of me for not guessing that." He gestured at himself. "I'm Cargo, of the Pants."
Libelous looked over Cargo Pants curiously. Fancy Pants was not a name she was allowed to not know. "Nice to meet you. So, what do you do?" If it was fair to ask her, turnabout seemed alright.
"Attend nonsensical balls." He gestured ahead. It was her turn.
Libel stepped up to the doorpony and offered the letter from her mother. He glanced it over and gestured with his horn for her to move past. She was in. She hesitated though, long enough for Cargo Pants to rejoin her. "As you were saying?"
He stepped up to her side, them no longer being in a line. "I'm still feeling out the field, as it were. I was thinking to get into logistics?" He raised a hoof to gesture about. "The methods of getting things from here to there in a timely fashion are fascinating to me, and lucrative besides when done properly."
She felt her interest die a little. He looked about her age, and he wasn't already chasing after a goal? She had been in school to become what she was for years already. He was just loafing about? What a lazy... She stopped her thoughts, crashing mentally. She was thinking like her mother. It was her mother that had put her in that school, insisted she not trot or walk but gallop towards what she would become.
"Are you alright?" he asked, interrupting her muddled thoughts. "Would you care for some refreshments?" His horn glowed, grabbing a small glass of wine from across the room and floating it over. "You look like you could use a sip."
She reached with a wing, accepting the narrow fluted glass. "Thanks. So... you know how this is supposed to work?"
He lifted his shoulders. "Half of it, I am told, is simply getting a good collections of eligible stallions and mares together in one place. Should things work out equitably, all the better, but..."
"It doesn't end there." Libel rolled her eyes before taking a good pull from the wine. She had a feeling she'd need more before the evening was done. "They wouldn't waste time on just hoping we'd pair up."
"Precisely so." Caro nodded lightly as he took a more reserved sip from a second glass he had grabbed. "Mixed in with us--" He was whispering, leaning in close to her. "--Perhaps as waitstaff, or even other attendees, are match makers. They're watching and taking notes. They know what family we belong to, all of us, and they know what each pair will mean, politically, as well as learning about our dispositions."
Libel's nose wrinkled as her free wing pulled out a notepad from the depths of her fluffy dress. "This is worth getting down."
A hoof came from nowhere, gently swatting the notepad away. "I'm sorry," spoke an elderly female voice. "No reporting at this event, Miss Word." An older unicorn mare stood near them, smiling thinly. "We've been told about you, young lady."
"Hey, don't bully her." Cargo moved to intercede, putting himself between the elder and Libel.
Libel huffed softly. "I can fight my own battles." It had been a kind gesture, she admitted silently as she appraised the older mare. She looked familiar... "And you are...?"
"A concerned elder, here to ensure you little ponies get off on the right hoof." She inclined her head towards Cargo Pants. "Do you like him? A Pants-Word union might be quite equitable to both families." She waved it away. "But no rush. Enjoy yourself, meet others. No need to hurry ahead into a mistake we have to live with."
Libelous edged away from him, not entirely out of a need to avoid what the older mare was suggesting. Was it the wine, or her sudden appearance? Whatever it was, she needed to get out of there, to somewhere quiet and private.
"Don't mind her," insisted Cargo, closing in on her. "I'm not here to force you, Miss Word. If we simply became friends, that would be more than enough, I figure. You seem like a..." His nose wrinkled, and her world shattered.
He knew, and she knew that he knew. Pony noses were frightfully sensitive, and she did not produce subtle scents. "I have to go!" She hurried away from him, scurrying through the crowd as quickly as she could, tears trying to escape her eyes despite her attempt to control it. This was part of her miserable little life. She had to be strong, and tall.
She was gone from the room in a flash, leaving only a trail of her scent behind, for other to turn up their noses about. Whispers began to spread. It didn't take a lot of deductive work to figure out what the source was, that pony that had hurried away so suddenly.
When she returned, the others avoided her, giving her an uncomfortably wide berth despite the otherwise-filled nature of the room. She milled around for a time, but everywhere she went, it was the same. The entire room, it seemed, had decided she needn't be talked to, nor approached.
She saw Cargo Pants and walked towards him, holding onto a small shred of hope. He had seemed interested in her, enough to protect her from that older pony. "Hey..."
He glanced at her, then looked away. "Oh, you. Look, um, Libelous was it? I can't... associate with that, sorry. Best of luck to you." He walked away, leaving her to stew in her shame.
She put on a brave face. She would not cry. She would not cry. It wasn't like she had even wanted to be paired with some random idiot anyway that was only good for being born to the right couple. She walked stiffly from the room, none mourning her passing.
Outside, she stomped a forehoof, the tears spilling free without the social pressure of the room to hold them back. "Damn it all..." She felt certain her mother would place all the blame right on her head. Of course it's her fault. Whose fault could it be? Did some other pony decide she would be a horrible, stinky, freak? She stomped the ground again, her wings spreading.
The party was a bust. Even if the match makers did assign her to someone, it would be with someone else equally as repugnant. She took to the skies, away from that possibility.
Color stuck out his tongue a little as he held up a hoof, examining the large easel that held his work. "Almost..." He floated over a brush and made the smallest dab of color. "It's horrible." He smiled despite his disparaging words. "Which means it's perfect."
He had long ago learned that an artist would never be fully satisfied with their own work, and how to recognize when he was being overly critical of himself. It had proven to be a valuable skill. "What do you think?"
Another stallion looked up from the couch, looking across the small apartment they shared to see the work of art. "She's pretty. Does she exist, or did you make her up?"
"I based her off a friend I had a long time ago." He sighed gently as he floated the easel aside and put up a fresh one in its place. "I bet she's forgotten I even exist. It was years ago, and we were just foals."
"If she's that pretty, you should go find her." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively despite the sleepy look on his face. "You owe it to your fellow stallions."
"I won't get in her way." He began applying broad strokes. The start was the easiest, he had decided. You only worked on the rough details, and it was easy to roll over any mistakes you made as you went. "I bet she's super important. Probably has like a dozen million awards already."
"Yeah?" He flopped across the back of the sofa, foreleg dangling as he watched Color Splash do his work and engaging in no work of his own. "What's she do?"
What did she do? He paused a moment, thinking back. "Something with, you know, words. She's from a family of writers. It's what they do, and she liked writing things even as a foal. She was so cute, writing with her wings."
"Aw, you really miss her." He grinned dopily from the couch. "Tellin' you, you should go find her."
"I don't even know where she is!" He threw up a hoof in denial. "I'd just be a ghost from the past. It'd be awkward for both of us."
"Maybe..." He tapped a hoof against the back of the sofa, still watching him. "Or maybe not. You gonna be happy not ever knowing?"
Color turned to his friend. "What do you know!?"
"Not as much as you." He grinned lazily, much like the rest of him. "What's her name?"
"Uh, Libel, no, Libelous. Libelous Word." He tapped at his chin, teasing the memories free. "Yeah, that was it."
"Word? Like the big mansion?" He pointed up at where the biggest building in the little town stood. "Oh man, you have a secret princess crush and you aren't chasing that? You better get going!"
"That's exactly why I'm not going." He teased a bit at the easel, forming a few clouds in a sea of blue. He imagined her kicking one, though she never had much interest in weather management. She could do it, if she wanted. That was part of being a pegasus. "She's probably so busy she won't even have time to say hi, if she even remembers who I am at this point." He lifted his shoulders softly. "Such is life."
"Such doesn't have to be life." He fell over, flopping over the back of the sofa bonelessly to end up in a heap just behind it. "You have her name. If she's so important, how hard can be it to find out where she lives?" He rolled over up onto his haunches. "Just think about it. Go over, say hi. If she doesn't know who you are, what did you actually lose?"
"Time?" He dabbed a color gently. "Money?" He made a quick stroke, forming a tree. "Dignity?"
"Aw, don't be like that." He hopped up to his hooves. "Look, leave this to me."
Color Splash felt more relaxed. If he was leaving it to his roomie, that most likely meant it would be forgotten and untouched.