Channel 7: Cultural Programming
“No, no. This is all wrong. You don’t understand what happened at all,” Spike says.
An adult dragon, Spike is the size of two fully loaded wagons placed end to end. He could punch through a concrete wall, cut steel with his claws, burn whole towns with his breath. He has to be interviewed in an aircraft hangar, because he can no longer fit in any building made for ponies. His purple scales are harder than stone, his green frill a row of deadly spikes. His claws are blades, his teeth spears.
He sits like a cat, holding something in his talons, the camera zoomed back enough that both Spike and the interviewer can be clearly seen. The interviewer is an old griffon in tweed, projecting a professorial air. A wing-backed leather chair has been dragged in for him to sit. He has a pad of notes, and considers it as Spike speaks.
“You see, me,” Spike gestures at himself. “A dragon. Huge, intimidating, physical. You see me, a director. I get my name at the start of the movie. I get to accept awards. And if I can be crass for a moment, you see me, a male, known for being a hit with the ladies. Equestria’s most eligible dragon for five years, show up to events with a beautiful actress hanging on each wing, all that. You look at all these things that society says make me powerful and impressive and say, he’s an important dragon. He’s clever. He’s special.”
Spike laughs. “But I’m not. I have a naturally obedient, quiet disposition. I like being told what to do. As a baby dragon, I was a unicorn’s familiar for years. As a drake, before I got into acting, I had a job cleaning furnaces in the power plant and I was happy there. As an actor, I was happy to get any role at all. Commercials, action roles, whatever. On my own, I would never have done anything special. I was unremarkable.”
His talons shift, and the object he’s holding briefly becomes partially visible to the camera -- something white. “But unremarkable creatures can go on to do amazing things, when they’re inspired by the right pony. A pony who maybe doesn’t have all those superficial qualities you’re looking for, to tell you they’re high-status. But who is, in fact, special in a way that really matters. So respectfully, I know putting a dragon in your interview gets views, but you’re addressing these questions to the wrong creature.”
He points at the camera, straight down the lens. “Could you zoom in, please?”
The image switches to another camera partway through its zoom. From this other angle, the object the dragon is holding is clearly visible. He cradles it, like one would cradle a kitten, hold something small and wonderful and precious.
It is an old mare -- a unicorn, with a snow-white coat and a mane that still has some purple visible under the grey. She is fit for her age, though she cannot conceal the lines that have spread at the corners of her eyes, or the weakness that has settled into her muscles. She is wrapped in an elegant fur cloak, the height of fashion, complete with a scarf of silver threads. Her cutie mark is half visible—something with diamonds.
“I’m ready for my closeup!” Rarity grins, winking at the camera. Her age does nothing to diminish her enthusiasm, the vigor behind her words.
“Oh, very well,” the interviewer concedes. “Rarity, perhaps you would like to tell us the story of how Spike became Equestria’s first dragon film director?”
“And still with the focus on him!” Rarity says, voice all sing-song. “A dragon has one little harem and suddenly he’s all anypony wants to talk about. But if you insist. Spike and I met auditioning for Calico Road. He-”
The interviewer lifts a talon to interrupt: “Could you explain to our viewers what Calico Road was? It’s not a well known film.”
“It was a romance,” Rarity says, pausing to gather herself. “Between a young dragon and an elderly unicorn. I was interviewing as the female lead, Spike for the male lead. They brought Spike and I in to see if we had the chemistry, and of course, we did. I confess when he first walked in, I didn’t think much of him. Oh look, another drake with a cutting jawline who spends so much time in the gym you can see the muscles under his scales. I thought he was a thirst trap for dimwitted female audiences.”
“I was,” Spike interjects, bluntly.
“Well, yes, you were.” Rarity waggles her head in reluctant acknowledgment. “But you could also act. I mean really act. You could sell subtle, convey attraction with a glance. We spent half the audition riffing off eachother, it was absolutely marvelous.”
“I grew up watching Rarity’s movies,” Spike says. The image shifts, as the camerapony struggles to keep both Rarity and his head clearly in the picture. His size makes the shot difficult. “I saw her in Pony Fancy, Strait-Jockies, The Gorgeous Hussar, The Mare Wore Red. All of them. She was an inspiration to me. A big part of the reason I became an actor. So, obviously I was delighted to think I might get to star alongside her. When I went into the audition I expected her to be pulling me along, but everything just worked. The whole time I was screaming in my head, ‘holy horsefeathers, Rarity likes me, she really likes me.’”
“I could tell,” Rarity offers as an aside to Spike, with a small smirk. “But you did do very well, and it was great fun. And this is where things go off the rails, because the director of Calico Road was a minotaur named Iron Will. And after our audition, Iron Will tells Spike he’s got the part, and tells me that they think I’m perfect to play Spike’s mother. Now, I wasn’t thrilled with that, but I’d been rejected for star roles before. I don’t fly off the handle or go into hysterics. But then Iron Will took a moment to explain why he felt a mare over forty shouldn’t star in any romance. He expressed his views on elderly mares generally, you might say.”
“I see,” the interviewer grimaces. “And how did you react?”
“I called him a ■■■■-■■■■■■!” The bleep sound effect has not finished before the interviewer sits up bolt straight in his chair, hacking and wheezing as he chokes on his own spit. When the electronic sound ends, Rarity’s laughter becomes audible. “I told him he ■■■■■ ■■■■■■ and that his mother ■■■■■■ a ■■■■ and that he was the result of this unnatural union, continuing his family’s ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ways and spreading his pestilence across the world.”
“Miss Rarity!” the interview snaps. “Mind your language, please! You know we can’t run that.”
“Oh, it’s okay.” Rarity offers a small smile, her voice like flowing honey. “You can bleep it.”
Spike quickly moves to take back control of the interview, clearing his throat and sending a waft of smoke down towards the stage. “She did say that though. To the director’s face, even. Naturally she gets thrown out.”
“And you followed her?”
For a moment, Spike does not answer, his expression impassive. “No,” Spike says. “What the director said about her was sexist and repulsive, but I didn’t follow her. I didn’t leave on my own. I stood there and did nothing. Because the director was in charge. You can’t sass the director, that’s not how it works. And if Rarity had just left, I’d have stayed there and done Calico Road and that would have been it. But on her way out, Rarity looked back over her shoulder at me and said, ‘so are you coming or not’? Like… I could hear the disappointment in her voice that I’d stay after that.”
He shrugs. “And then I followed her out, right on her tail.”
“Sounds like she must have projected a lot of confidence.”
A momentary stillness hangs between them, which the interviewer does not interrupt. Rarity’s expression flickers, and when she laughs again it is a stiffer sound: “Yes, I suppose I did, didn’t I? But I wasn’t feeling it. Certainly not at the time. I didn’t want to admit it, but what Iron Will said, it rattled me. I’ve always…” She flicks a hair. “Prided myself on my appearance. As a young mare, I got some striking roles. And being told… well. That those days were over. I don’t mean to be superficial, you understand. But it cut deep. And when I told Spike to come with me, inside I was screaming. Don’t say no. Don’t make a fool out of me. Don’t let me be the only one who leaves over this.”
The griffon taps his pad with his pencil. “But he did leave with you.”
“He did,” she agrees, warmth gradually returning to her smile. “It was very decent of him.”
“And then what happened?”
“We walked out of the building,” Rarity says. “Him on my tail, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now. Do we just go home? Do I thank him? Does he think I’m actually attracted to dragons? Which I wasn’t but it felt so awkward to tell him so. But I couldn’t just walk away from him after he stuck his neck out for me. And then I see a bar across the street, I ask him…”
Rarity cranes her neck up, to look into the eyes of the enormous dragon that holds her: “Want to get a drink?”