No recap this time and, this time, I mean it! Except to say, argh, that I've just gone to bed after a day of strange and wonderfully wierd stuff.
The gods of 'Whoever the fuck' were obviously smiling upon me that night, because instead of another semi-nightmareish dream featuring the audio and visual talents of one particular Princess, I'm instead rewarded for today's wierdness with a lovely relaxing dream about lying on a beach. No real storyline for it either. Just chilling on your average beach with the warm sun gently caressing my face, on a cool lounger with a virgin Pina Colada in your hand. Yes, I like virgin Pina Coladas! Coconut and pineapple juice is amazingly refreshing! Ahh. A little taste of paradise in a glass.
Anyway, eventually, I arise from my slumber to a brand spanking new day. The sunlight gradually slinks into the room. The potential of this new day is limitless, so full of delicious possibilities! Perhaps today I could learn a new spell! Or, better yet, go on a fantastic adventure that makes me find out who I really am! Haha, nope, that only happens in bad movies. But still, lots of things I could do! Like exploring some unknown ruins, like in Skyrim! Actually, now I think about it, the idea is far more attractive than the reality. After all, you can't quicksave before finding out that the room you've just entered is covered in deadly traps. Oh boy, I'm in a good mood today.
Someone knocks on the door, hurrah! Whipping out of bed, I slap on yesterday's trousers and answer it. Disappointingly, it's the maid with breakfast. Ah well, adventure can wait until after I fill my stomach. Oh look, what appears to be two eggs on toast with a side of some sort of salmon-looking fish! How did they know I liked that? I haven't had it since I was young! Then, naturally, I remember what they did while I was in a coma. Fantastic. Breakfast, I hereby proclaim you: 'Mindrape-a-la-ouef'. Still, food is food and this food is good.
After scarfing down the most important meal of the day, I take a quick bath and do all the boring routines of waking up. You know, brushing teeth, changing clothes, debate throwing yourself off the balcony, the usual stuff. Throwing open that tank-like wardrobe, I find that at some point Golden Thread must have turned up. Within are 6 shirts, half are black and half are grey. Surprising, considering her hatred of plain styles. Along with six trousers in a similar theme. I'm surprised to find that she's even included several 'versions' of underwear with her creation. I say 'versions' because some of them are.... Well, they're little more than posing pouches for male strippers. I'd ask how she got my 'measurements', but I decide that embracing my ignorance works out better for my sanity.
There's even a jacket, although she did manage to sneak in some gems for the buttons. Seems to be some bizarre leather-like material, although for the life of me, I can't figure out what the hell it is. Whatever, it's to keep warm, not to run through bad weather with. Once I'm done considering my jacket and throwing what's left of those posing pouches I ignited with my 'Inner Spark!' from the balcony, I recline on the bed lazily. Hoofy is going to be turning up any time soon and I can always daydream or throw some magic around if I get bored.
"Come in." I yell from the bed. The door opens and Hoofy walks into the room. "Hey Hoofy."
"Hey Shade, ready for another day of training?"
"I'm sorry, Hoofy, but I have... Other duties." And then exaggeratedly yawned before relaxing further into the bed. "Oh. Yes. This is so very important and so obviously not an excuse to avoid something I don't want to do. Yes. Totally." Oh, I amuse myself sometimes. Hoofy's expression has taken on a faint blush of, what I assume, is embarassment. She looks away from where I am.
"Sorry." She mutters quietly.
"What was that?"
"I said sorry. For the running away." I chuckle and she looks up at me, annoyed. "What's so funny?"
"You are. Royal Guard unicorn instructor who can't stand dressmakers. It's pretty funny, if you ask me." Now she's glaring at me. "Oh come on Hoofy! I'm only playing." Still getting that glare. "Hey, I didn't give you a hard time the last time you were in my room and I was in bed." My brain kicks in again. "Well that was some terrible phrasing, eh?" Finally, she breaks her glare and giggles.
"Yes, it was. Are you going to get up now or do I need to push you out of bed myself?" I grab the other pillow from the side of the bed.
"Bring it on. My body is ready!" I throw the pillow at her, then quickly get onto my knees and scoop up the pillow I was relaxing on. She grabs hers with her magic.
"This is so immature." She says, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, it is." I say sadly, looking down at the pillow in my hands. Which is somewhat unfortunate because I fail to see her pillow flying towards me until it smacks into the side of my head. "DISHONORABLE WENCH! YOU SHALL TASTE DEFEAT THIS DAY!" I cried, before lobbing both pillows back at her.
And thus, the greatest pillow fight of the century began. Alright, bards probably won't be writing epic ballads about it, but it was still damn fun! Christ, I'm a 27 year old amateur wizard and I'm having a pillow fight with a goddamn magical talking unicorn. Goodbye maturity, it was nice not knowing you!
She counters my double tap by throwing up a quick shield, which I think is cheating if you ask me, then kicks one back at me while levitating the other in a semi-combat stance like a sword. Catching the kicked one, I swing it around like a mace as she approaches. Oooh yea! She leaps onto the bed, which I forgot to mention is a king sized one, then she swings at me. With a deft and entirely unintentional block from me, I gain the upper hand and land a decent smack to her side. Which is unfortunate for me because she's still wearing guard armor. It's either a headshot or nothing!
Her reply to the side shot was a flurry of blows to my now exposed head. Shit, I forgot this is Hoof-'Riding Crop'-Beat. Her entire job is beating the crap out of recruits! Using my left arm as a shield, I throw another sidelong blow, which actually causes her to wobble! Quickly, I move away from her to get a moment's reprieve, but she's too quick to recover and lands another wack on me. Soon, the entire thing devolves into her giggling and me yelling phrases stolen from Duke Nukem while we wail on each other. Well, where else can I use the battlecry of 'I've got balls of steel'?
At some point later in the melee, she apparently realized that this was a stalemate and 'playfully' (See: Brutally) tackles me. Our combined mass falls off the side of the bed, me taking the brunt of the impact as we slam into the floor. I won't say it was painful, but it wasn't precisely my idea of a good time. Especially since she also follows me down and lands on my chest with a thump.
"Well, that was fun!" She says.
It's at that moment that we both seem to realise the rather intimate position we're in, she's straddling my entire torso with her own, with all the plumbing in the right parts. Jesus, what a fucking mental image that is. It doesn't help matters that, for some ungodly reason, I actually find her look somewhat attractive. I mean, not attractive but sultry. Ah fuck! Captain Kirk, take your spoken rap elsewhere! Fiend!
She's looking into my eyes and I find that I can't do anything but look into hers. The moment seems to drag on. If this was one of those terrible romance movies, this would be the part where the two people kiss and then tear each other's clothes off. I swear to God, Dr Dick, if you pop up right now I swear I'll cut you off!
"I know I'm comfortable, but I'd like to breathe at some point in the future." I eventually blurt out, breaking that moment into awkward little pieces. She complies with a nervous laugh.
"Yes. Well." Hoofy rubs the back of her head.
"So, how about some magic then?" I offer, picking myself up.
"Magic. Yes." She's blushing. Dr Dick I'm serious! Don't you fucking dare!
"So I noticed you were using some levitation there. That's a useful spell. Is it hard?" Oh fuck you brain. 'Is it hard.' Why don't you just rape me, you grey matter bastard.
"Energy wise, no. But it does require careful focus." Hoofbeat seems to effortlessly slip from awkward mare to instructor at my prompting. "Let's take a seat and I'll run you through the foal's guide to basic levitation." I interpret this as 'Relax on the bed and get ready to learn' and return the pillows to their place. It turns out that it is actually what she meant, which I realise as she joins me on there. She's sitting alittle too close for comfort, our bodies touching, but with her clinical tone it kinda defuses the tension.
"So, to start, first you must..."
And this is where I, again, skip the boring details. For your benefit you see, because while magic is a wonderful and great thing, actually hearing about the exotic methods of magical energy manipulation is boring. It's alittle like when I went to an art gallery and had to hear several people having a deep discussion about a picture of a tin of tomato soup. I mean: IT'S A PICTURE OF A TIN OF TOMATO SOUP! WHAT'S SO SPECIAL ABOUT THAT?!
Anyway, she finishes up on described the techno-magical details of levitation. In short? It's alittle like casting a shield spell, except it's alot more fluid than your standard solid shield. I'd describe it as akin to clingfilm. The pushing-field needs to wrap around the object, to delicately hold it aloft. And to me, being the guy that I am, it sounds like a hell of a lot of concentration for an effect I can already generate by simply picking shit up with my hands!
Hoof, after I explain said sentiment, is less than impressed. And by that I mean she throws her pillow at my head. After a moment of chuckling with the mare, I deem it the time to actually try it. A swift flick to my man-jewelry and one collect-call to the local field, I try and lift the pillow that Hoofy had thrown at me.
Four hours later. Yes, four hours of trying to levitate a fucking pillow. Lord knows, it wasn't like I didn't put some effort into it! Every attempt I tried basically ended up with the pillow being punted across the room at random speeds. Although I do manage to refine my control of punt to the point I can push it away delicately, small positive. The worst part of those four hours was the lack of progress in complete telekinesis. Sure, Hoofy got a bit of a giggle when I strained to lift that damn thing. But she'd spent a very long time coaching me and when she looked away, I couldn't help but feel a bit pathetic. It's that moment that I decide to cheat.
While she isn't looking, I summon up a rift. My logic was decent, if I can't lift it, I can still teleport it over to the bed. Sure, it's not what she wanted, but fuck the means, it's the results that matter! As far as I know, it's not like a teleported object even needs focus to get through such a short 'port through T-space. With an entirely unneeded wrist-snap, I gestured at that pillow and brought the rift to it.
My reward for cheating the lesson and using T-space was a cloud of feathers popping out of the ending of the rift and raining on the both of us. As they gently settled onto our collective shoulders, Hoofy looks over at me. She's frowning. Fan-fucking-tastic work, Mr Starcunning, have a gold star.
"So." I say.
"So." She replies.
"You're telling me that kids can do that?" I hope she just doesn't realise I'm trying to divert her attention from my idiocy.
"Goats?"
"Err. Little ponies I mean, you know, foals. Can do that?"
"It's one of the first things they learn." She explains. "And they all can do it."
"Shit. Can they teleport too?" She shakes her head. "Well, atleast I've got something over the little buggers." She giggles at that.
"Anyway, I think it's about lunch time." She says and my stomach agrees. "Let's go get some chow."
After shaking off the feathers, I throw my jacket on so I don't freeze in the corridors and we head out. Apparently we're headed to the Canterlot kitchens that serve the entire castle and the guard. I'm picturing a massive industrial kitchen, with an angry looking pony swearing up a storm as everyone else cowers from his screaming commands. That'd be great!
As we walk there, I spy a stallion having a heated, but friendly, conversation with another unicorn from afar. By the way he's talking, and the silly looking collar piece of a tuxedo that he's wearing, he's obviously some form of royalty or atleast thinks he is. The topic seems to be about 'The style and quality of manedressers in Canterlot', which doesn't really help my almost immediate conclusion that he's a wanker and a serious fop. As he makes some quip, his eyes lock onto my own and he gasps. Why yes, mr Fop, I am some high quality meat! His gaze passes from me to Hoofy and he seems to visibly relax. As from before, having a member of the guard with you does seem to make everyone chill the fuck out in the presence of moi. The other unicorn has a similar reaction, but instead of actually playing it straight, he runs the hell away as fast as his little hooves can and makes Mr Fop look embarrassed. As we get closer, he speaks up.
"Well hello." His voice is refined, but slightly nervous. Not that I blame the poor bugger, it's not everyday you meet an alien. Being a polite individual, I gotta return his greeting.
"Hello."
"My name is Prince Blueblood." Oh sweet baby Jesus, what's with all these members of royalty? I swear if I me... Why is he eyeing my crotch? Oh fuck no.
"I'm Shade and I'm up here." His eyes ascend to meet my own. "And this is Hoofbeat."
"We've met." They both reply at the same time.
"Well, we're off to the kitchens. Nice meeting you." I give him a half-hearted wave before slipping past the foppish stallion. The gods do not smile on me, since he starts to follow us.
"One is curious as to what you are." Well, that's some obnoxious phrasing.
"I'm Starcunning. Also, a human." I reply with a 'Fuck off, I'm not interested' tone that he doesn't pick up on.
"A human. One hasn't heard of such a... interesting species before." Even with my back to him, I can practically feel him eyeing me up like I'm meat and he's hungry. Hoofy looks like she's about to explode with laughter. The bitch. "Are you a male or a female of your race?"
I stop walking, then turn pointedly and just stare at him for a moment. He seems to realize his mistake with a short but nervous sounding chuckle. With a quick 'sorrygottago!' he turns and walks away. Only instead of walking like an ordinary stallion, he trots in that godawful dressage style while sashaying his hips. The only part of my visual cortex that is winning is the bit that is now trying to work it's way out of my nose. Once he rounds a corner, Hoof roars with laughter at my situation. I turn my baleful glare to her after a moment and she eventually manages to reign in the giggling.
"Oh my! That was just... I think I wet myself." Stand down, Starcunning, burning her to a crisp won't make it better. Oh, but it would feel good! NO! BAD SHADE! NO COOKIE!
"Well. What the fuck was that?" I finally say once Hoofbeat has managed to chill out.
"He's a libertine." She explains, well, I say 'explains' but that really doesn't explain shit to me.
"A what?"
"Libertine. One of those ponies who does whatever they think is pleasurable, regardless of how that'll make everypony else view them. Most of the time it just means they eat cake or play games, but in his case, it's bedding everything in sight. He's also the reason the other non-pony races don't send female ambassadors anymore." Ugh, now that's an image I'd like to delete. We start walking again.
"If he likes the company of girls, why the hell did he just eye me up like I'm the newest attraction in Canterlot?" She raises her eyebrow at this.
"Well, after his 'royal trip' to Las Pegasus that lasted one hundred and twenty days, his particular tastes extended beyond females. Trust me when I say you don't want to know the details of that little horror." OH FUCK YOU BRAIN! SO MANY MENTAL IMAGES THAT SHOULD NEVER EXIST!
"Hoofy?"
"Yes?"
"I'd like to go throw myself off a very high balcony, so I'll be shut of those horrible imaginations you've just implanted in my head. Can you direct me to one?" She laughs. I don't join in with her.
"Come on Shade! It's just sex."
"I'm English, I'm repulsed by the very notion of talking about that sort of thing." Her response is to rub my side with her body while wearing a semi-seductive expression. "Oh fuck you, Hoof."
"Mmm." Moaning gently. "Maybe later." She says with a chuckle, before removing herself from my side. It's only dumb bloody luck that the kitchen door is ahead of us, because right now all I can think about is how erotic that moan... NO. NOT THINKING ABOUT THAT. PURGE HERETICAL THOUGHTS!
The kitchens, or atleast what they called 'the kitchen', was actually a massive banqueting hall. Almost immediately, it reminded me of the dining hall from my old boarding school. Huge tables with long benches, three across and ten down. Easily enough space to accommodate 300 people (Or ponies). The walls were painted Canterlot white, which to me is basically the starkest white possible. Banners adorned the walls, split equally between Celestia's sun and Luna's moon. The surprising thing about that room was the absolute lack of any ponies in it. A lunch room with no diners, it was wierd!
As we walked along one of the aisles, I happen to spot a griffon wearing armor. Oh by Slaanesh's 40 foot dongs, it's Vémundr again. He's currently having what appears to be a polite conversation with another griffon who's head is currently hanging out of a door on the north wall. He's wearing a chef's hat and is chuckling. The two conversing pair don't notice our approach, so we unintentionally sneak up to them and I catch a slice of their conversation.
"You didn't." The chef says surprised and humored.
"She's actually letting you serve cow now!" Vémundr whispers. "Do you think you could get the homeland to send some over?"
"You mean aside from my secret personal supply? How much do you want?"
"Tell them to send three hundred steaks." The other griffon coughs explosively.
"But there's no way you could eat that many before they turn bad. It'd be a waste!"
"True, but imagine the expression on their face when they have to take delivery! It'll be worth it just for that." Vémundr chuckles. "Silly vegetarian ponies."
"Namby pamby ponies." The chef agrees.
I look over at Hoofbeat, who looks decidedly annoyed at the two griffons mocking the shit out of her species. Normally, yes, I'd do the gentlemanly thing of defending my newest friends honor by interrupting them and making them apologise. Only, in this instance, my normal reaction is overridden by the words 'Cow' and 'Steak'. Because red meat! Reeeed meaaaat! Caveman Shade needs his meeeeeaaaat!
"Did someone say, 'Steak'?" I say slightly too loudly, scaring the ever-loving shit out of both the griffons and earning me a look from the mare at my side.
"Ambassador Shade!" Vémundr's voice changes from what was an immature tone to a far more refined one. "My friend Eskel and I were talking about his latest winning streak at the Canterlot sports center..." He gestures ineffectually with a claw and I just look at him like he's an idiot.
"No you weren't. You were talking about steak, as in 'made from cow' steak." His eyes look everywhere that isn't at me and Hoofy as he obviously tries to find a way out of his little mistake.
"Well, erm. Yes. We're omnivores after all, we do eat meat." He says, apparently surrendering to the truth. It's kinda funny really, here he is talking to a massive carnivore and he's getting all flustered. Score one for being undiplomatic, Mr Vém! I offer him a small smile and he's surprised by my reaction.
"I guess I could keep your secret, Chef Eskel." The cook Griffon looks at me somewhat surprised, but that's probably the alien thing again. "If I might steal a small bit of your supply..." His eyes light up like Vegas at Christmas.
It's probably less than five minutes later that I'm sat down at one of the tables, the chef-hat wearing winged hybrid is grinning like a goddamn madman/bird. Vémundr's own expression is eerily similar. Apparently to the griffons, the idea of consuming flesh is both a curse (Because nobody else in the world actually eats meat) and a point of pride (Since they're the only ones who do it). Eskel disappears in a flash of brown feathers, but quickly reappears with a silver platter. If it wasn't for Hoofbeat's disgusted expression, I'd swear I was in heaven.
Inhaling delicately, I can smell though long-chain molecules that most normal people would call a scent. But that seems like such a trivial way to describe that divine smell! As he places the plate infront of me, I'm becoming more and more excited for my impending lunch meal. With gusto, he pulls the covering away to reveal the most perfect looking steak I've ever seen! The marbling, the ratio of fat-to-meat, even the coloring was flawless. I swear, Gordon Ramsay could sacrifice his soul to every chaos God in the 40k mythos and still not produce such perfection!
Grabbing my knife and fork, which incidentally I have no idea why they'd have such things, but that doesn't matter. I have a steak! I cut a tiny slice of the deliciousness and place it on my tongue. By Riker's beard, this is AMAZING! I swear, I'll start weeping if this gets any better! As I start carving up the meat, I can't help but notice that both griffons are nodding sagely while Hoofy looks on with semi-horror. As I cram another piece of it into my gaping maw, she decides to speak up.
"Enjoying your murder, Shade?" Her voice is icy cold.
"Wut?" Well fuck her, I'm a carnivore for god's sake, I can take a little abuse for this non-Hindu-friendly meal!
"Cows are sentient." What?
"Wut?"
"They can talk. And think. And reason. Just like ponies." And with that, I spit out the mouthful of amazing and stare at her.
"They're just like ponies?" She nods. "I've just been eating a sentient creature?" She nods again as I look over at the two, now confused, griffons. "You eat sentient creatures?"
"Well, we wait until they die of natural causes first, it's quite a delicacy in the griffon kingdoms..." Chef beings to say, before I cut him off.
"HOOF!" She recoils at my yell. "Nearest bathroom." She gestures with a hoof at the door with a mare and stallion sign on the door.
I'm not ashamed to say that I threw up every single piece of that horrifying meal. I mean really, who the fuck eats something that can reason like a goddamn pony?! Ok, so it was super tasty but eeesh! Well, I guess you can't really judge a society for it's... Haha, yes you fucking can judge a society that'll eat a goddamn sentient creature! Even if they do just eat the dead! Fucking vultures!
After I finish expunging my stomach contents, I splash some water down my acid-etched throat and look at myself in the mirror. Mr Shade, sentient creature eater, looks back at me. Ugh. Gunna be a long while before I forget this particular misadventure in the culinary art, assuming Hoofy will even look at me again. Oh lord, I'm starting to care what she thinks of me. Fucking ponies.
As I return to the room, I see ambassador brain-eater has buggered off and the chef has decided to return to his abattoir. Only the mare remains on the bench, looking decidedly appalled at my eating habits and, frankly, I can't blame her. As much as I'd like to play it off as if nothing has happened, I can't help but feel like I've just violated some unspoken rule between the two of us. Taking a seat near, but not next to her, I sigh.
"You know what Hoofy? I'm suddenly not hungry anymore." I weakly say, my voice box still not at 100%.
"You didn't know about cows?" Her reply is meek, unexpectedly restrained for her.
"No, I didn't. "I would never let the fluids of anything sapient run down MY throat." At which point, my brain decides to inform me that my statement could be taken in more than one way. With that thought, I slap myself in the face in the most epic facepalm in the history of the series of tubes. "I swear, it's like my brain has a bloody vendetta against me."
As Hoofy forgets her previous judgement in favour of laughing her olive green flank off at my inappropriate Freudian slip, I'm quietly thankful for my funny slip up if it means I get to avoid the awkwardness of being a bipedal-carrion carnivore to a veggy pony. As her giggle-fit eventually subsides, she eventually looks at me with a stern look that doesn't fill me with good-feelings. I'm reminded somewhat of when we first met and she beat the ever-loving crap outta me.
"You've been a bad boot." I want my mother. "Hoofbeat doesn't like bad boots, you need to be punished."
"Stop it Hoofy, you're not funny." She just smiles at me as she whispers in the most sultry voice I've ever heard.
"Run"