//------------------------------// // ... with Special Guest Star, Ringer as Blueblood! // Story: Blueblood's Just Zis Guy, You Know? // by NemoSpecific //------------------------------// Rut. Rut rut rut. Blueblood was at a sidewalk cafe, watching the ponies of Canterlot go by and trying not to think about the night ahead. He was poised to fall into a rut, and it was the same one every year. It was the day of the Grand Galloping Gala, and Blueblood shuddered just to think of it. It was the same tedious affair every year, with the same slow music, same tiny appetizers, and the exact same sea of gossiping dilettantes. He'd actually given up all pretense and had asked Auntie if he could skip it this year, but she smiled that inscrutable smile of hers and had mentioned how disappointed she'd be if she didn't see him around during the evening. Practically an imperial decree to attend, then. Blueblood blew a strand of mane out of his face with a sigh. He honestly did not know how Auntie put up with it... he'd only been attending the the Gala for about eight years, and it was already bad enough for him to consider running away to Appleloosa to avoid it. Last year it had only been joining the circus. Shaking his head, Blueblood knew he'd do what he always did. Show up late, stick close to Auntie, then sneak out early and spend the rest of the evening at Pony Joe's. It wasn't perfect, but he couldn't let Auntie down, could he? A flash of green caught his eye, and Blueblood perked up. Skipping Stone! They were always good for a laugh! If they went together, the Gala might be bearable, at least. Blueblood started waving to the green pony and almost called out before realizing that it wasn't his dear friend Skippy, but a complete stranger. Mane and cutie mark aside, the resemblance was amazing! Chuckling at himself, Blueblood sat back down and made a note to hunt up Skippy after tea. Going to the Gala together still had merit and if nothing else, they'd be amused at how Blueblood had almost made a fool of himself waving at a stranger who happened to look... just... like... Blueblood could barely contain his glee as the idea struck him. It might work... if he could pull it off... why, this just might be the best night ever! •§•§•§•§• "Your Highness, you want me to... what?" Ringer stared up at the prince. "Please, please, call me Blueblood! I mean, I'm not THAT much taller than you," Blueblood said with a chuckle. It was true that the earth stallion was a few inches shorter than the prince, but he already knew he could work around that. "I saw you in the off-Bridleway performance of The Prancing Prince, so I know you can do this." Ringer winced. "You... uh, saw that? Sir?" Blueblood slapped Ringer on the back and laughed louder. "Saw it? I saw it nearly every night it ran! It was hilarious!" Noticing Ringer's pained look, the prince just smiled. "Oh, relax. Seriously! I know satire when I see it, and if a pony can't laugh at his own foibles, he deserves to be taken down a notch. And really, Blueblood is fine. No titles, no honorifics." Ringer took a deep breath and tried to let go of the stress. The tension of standing next to and talking with the prince. The very important and very influential unicorn that he'd spent three months lampooning on stage, mocking and whining and wheedling and portraying him as the most self-absorbed, stuck up, VAINGLORIOUS oh NO he's going to have Celestia send me to the MOON and I'll never see an audience again and I'll DIE and-!!! Blueblood grew increasingly worried as Ringer just stared at him and started to hyperventilate. "Ringer? Ringer? Do you need a bag or someth-" "Oh, PLEASE don't banish me to the moon! I swear I'll never act again! I'll work for the Diamond Dogs and work in a mine and I'll be underground where no one can see me and I'm SORRY!" "GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!" Blueblood shook the panicky actor and stared him in the eyes. "It's OKAY. I thought it was FUNNY. I want you to do me a FAVOR. No one's going to the moon!" "... really?" "Really." Blueblood patted Ringer gently and gave him a few moments to settle down. He still kept an eye on him for any warning signs that he'd have another fit, though. When no attack seemed forthcoming, Blueblood cleared his throat. "As you know, the Grand Galloping Gala is tonight and as a member of the royalty and nephew to the Princess, I'm expected to make a showing. What you may not know is that it's soul-crushingly boring and if given a choice between a thousand years on the moon or going to the Gala twice in a row, I'd pick the moon." "And you want me to go? I thought you said you liked The Prancing Prince!" Ringer huffed. Good, Blueblood thought, he's finally relaxing. Took him long enough... "Not just go... go as me. I want you to take my place and pretend to be me for the whole evening! Think of it as research... you can see all the nobs of Equestria hobnobbing and being all nobby. Plenty of material for the next satire! And you can impress everyone when we reveal that you fooled everyone! Agents will be breaking down the door to get the actor who fooled the entire upper crust for a whole evening with no intermissions. Also... well, I'd appreciate it. I know I'm asking a lot of you at the last minute, but I would be incredibly grateful if you'd do this for me." Ringer looked over the prince... no, the pony before him, and considered. Blueblood was right, of course. Most of his material was gleaned from the tabloids and scandal sheets... seeing firsthoof all the passions and eccentricities of the elite of Equestria could give him enough to work with for half a dozen new plays... but there was no way he could do it. But... a chance to show off his skill at impersonation not just to those who went to the Gala, but everyone who heard about it afterwards? He couldn't get better publicity if Luna herself put his cutie mark on the moon! Maybe he could do it... It was the hopeful look on Blueblood's face that decided Ringer. For all that he'd made a joke of the stallion for three months, with all the rehearsals and pratfalls and sly winks about his foppishness... after talking with him for half an hour, Ringer was just struck by how nice he was. He wasn't perfect, and had a sense of entitlement that could only come from being royalty, but... he was friendly. Outgoing. He tried his best to do right by other ponies. He was a genuinely warm and caring soul. Probably gets it from his Aunt... "I'll do it." For all that he was an earth pony and only slightly shorter than the prince, Ringer was still tackled off his hooves by the flying hug Blueblood gave him. •§•§•§•§• "I wondered how you passed for me on stage..." Blueblood looked over the closet of make-up and dyes as Ringer put the finishing touches on his costume. Coat and mane, powdered and dyed? Check. Fake horn? Check. Lifts in his shoes? Check. Cutie mark copied? Hm. The left one was a bit crooked... Ringer grumbled as he cleaned his flank off and started over on the fake cutie mark. Blueblood peered down at a bucket of... cadmium #37? That didn't sound healthy... "Honestly, I'd been thinking it was some form of illusion and sat through a few shows trying to spot who was casting it for you." Still focused on trying to paint a straight line on his own side with out smudging, Ringer said distractedly, "That's what everyone says. No one appreciates just what you can get done with real, practical effects." Ringer switched to a mocking sing-song. "Ooh, you can do anything with magic, why would you ever want to go to the fuss and trouble of doing anything for real? Pfah. Do you know what happens when you're in the presence of an on-going spell for, oh, say two or more hours?" Blueblood looked up and shook his head. "Your horn starts tingling. For a pegasus, their wings get itchy. For us earth ponies, our bones get warm. Something about the constant pressure of the magic just... it's impossible not to notice, for any pony. It's bad enough just by itself, but for the audience, it just takes them out of the story. I've seen a bunch of plays, really good plays, flop at the box office because they relied too heavily on magical effects." "Huh. So, rather than have a unicorn offstage, you do... this?" Blueblood waved a hoof at the room they were in, crammed with all manner of paints, brushes, sponges, masks, prosthetic horns and wings, wigs and a couple of fake noses. Ringer stuck his tongue out and put the finishing touch on his new compass rose. Gone was the average sized, grey and tan earth pony with two not quite identical bells for his mark... now there was a tall, white and blonde unicorn with perfectly straight compasses. "Yup! I mean, magic has it's place in the theater, don't get me wrong. Quick changes, momentary special effects, scene changes... but for costumes and props, it's gotta be real. The audience can tell if something doesn't hang right, or seem to have any weight or... ha! Listen to me, lecturing like a teacher." "Any downsides?" "Well, yeah, but they're manageable. If I get wet, the cutie mark will run. I have to be careful about what I touch, or I'll get make-up on it. And these lifts... ugh." Ringer showed Blueblood the shoe he was wearing that brought him up to eye level with the prince. "They RUIN my grip. I can barely hold anything, and can't even open a door with them on. You said the Gala is going to be mostly in open halls, right?" "Yes, you should be fine. Ooh, I can hardly wait!" Ringer kept watching and listening to Blueblood, observing how he stood and spoke and making adjustments to his mental image of the stallion. The night would essentially be one long improv exercise, but he'd still have to stay in character. "So, what are you going to be doing while the Gala's going on?" "Get out of town. Everything shuts down for the Gala, and I'm in the mood for a REAL party! I've heard good things about... oh what is it called. It's right outside Canterlot, Auntie sent her student there... it's by the Everfree... Auntie Luna went there when she came back from the moon..." "Ponyville? I've performed there a few times." "Yes! Thank you! I've heard there's a mare there who throws simply the BEST parties around. Fun and games and friends... she even makes all the snacks herself, out of the bakery she works at. Ooh, I am looking forward to it!" Ringer couldn't keep from laughing at how the normally dignified unicorn was practically bouncing with excitement. •§•§•§•§• You can do this you can do this you can do this... Ringer took another lungful of cool garden air and tried to calm down. It was just opening night jitters. The Gala was going to start in just a few minutes, he would start mingling, and everything would be fine. He didn't have any lines to forget or marks to miss, he just had to smile and watch and try to make everyone think he was just the most handsome, eligible unicorn stallion in Canterlot and he'll never fool anyone they'll all laugh and then the Princesses will fight over sending him to the MOON or the SUN and... and... hair pulling... wings flared... mmm... Ringer shook his head as his panic attack managed to derail itself in something that was at least ungentle-coltly, and probably sacrilegious. He looked back at the main hall, and noticed a stunning vision of beauty enter the garden. Her dress, her tiara, her mane..! Ringer felt certain that if she talked to him, he'd gabble some nonsense and promptly pass out in shame. She was divine! Perfection! A mare fit for a king! ... or a prince, he realized. Ringer might not have a chance with her, but Blueblood might! He approached the angelic unicorn as she was sniffing a rose, and delivered the suavest, most elegant opening line ever to be uttered in the pursuit of romance. "Well, hello. I am Prince Blueblood." Aaaaah no no no of course I'm Blueblood everyone knows Blueblood he's the PRINCE for Celestia's sake I am the dumbest stallion ever I should banish MYSELF to the moon! His face locked in a rictus grin, Ringer could barely believe it as the goddess before him simply introduced herself in return, before commenting on the flower she'd been looking at. "Oh my, what a lovely rose!" "You mean... this rose?" What do I do what would Blueblood do NO... no, stop, breathe, think. Think fast! Should I give it to her? Am I MAD? A bright red rose with that dress? I might as well throw wine on her! But she must know that so... aha! Deftly using his mouth since his hooves would only have crushed the flower in the lifts he was wearing, Ringer bit the stem off the rose and slipped it into the buttonhole of the formal collar he was wearing. "Thank you! It goes with my eyes." That's what she meant for it, right? I mean, she's perfect! A rose for her would be like... like... gilding a lily! No, she must have meant it for me. An accent, to brighten me up! Dear Celestia, I feel so plain next to her. I must be the ugliest stallion in the Gala for her to take pity on me like this... •§•§•§•§• The evening wore on, far better than Blueblood had made it sound. Then again, Ringer was looking around him and could see satires and comedies of manners writing themselves for him, and not a bunch of passing acquaintances he'd have to remember at the next garden party. Simply a matter of perspective, he supposed. The angel at his side didn't hurt, either. The lifts, however, were wearing on him far worse than he'd expected. He'd worn them for plays before, but he'd been able to slip them off between scenes and stretch his legs a bit. It had only been about an hour since the Gala started, and already his hooves were killing him. How mares do it, I'll never know... she's been walking with me the entire time in those pointy glass things, and acts like she's wearing nothing at all. As they made their way into the corner of the gardens set aside for conversation and star gazing, Ringer couldn't believe it. Not only had she noticed that he was getting tired, but she'd been guiding him to one of the last available cushions? She must be the living definition of generosity! With a barely suppressed sigh of relief, he settled down on the cushion to get some feeling back in his hooves. •§•§•§•§• As the evening grew more chill, Ringer and his... date? Do I dare claim one so... so amazing as MY date?.. returned to the main hall. And immediately almost got himself killed. With a cry of her name and a hoof to save her, Ringer cried out, "Stop!" "Oh! Prince Blueblood! How chivalrous..." It didn't matter that it wasn't his name, the way she said it to him made his heart race. He glared down at the puddle before them. Water? On marble? A pony could break their neck! Especially me, in these stupid lifts... "One would hate to slip." I can repay her for finding me that cushion in the garden! And giving me this wonderful rose! "Yes! One certainly would." That laugh! Like a sweet bell, it seemed to cut through an invisible cloud that had been building out in the garden. "One's cloak should take care of the problem..." Even as he said it, Ringer heard what he was saying and screamed at himself to stop. I don't HAVE a cloak! I don't have ANY clothes! No no no, this sounds like I expect HER to mop it up with her dress! No one's that crass! What is WRONG with me?! What have I done?! The moon's too good for me! I should see if I can find the gates to Tartarus and- who am I kidding, they wouldn't let someone as horrible as me in there! His mind totally locked up, Ringer could only blink a few times, not hearing what the mare said. He didn't snap out of it until it was too late, and that wonderful, amazing mare had already thrown her cloak down and nudged him forward. What have I done? What have I done? I can't even look at her now! What is WRONG with me? •§•§•§•§• A DOOR?! Why is there a closed door here?! Why do we have to go through it?! Stupid, stupid lifts! Stupid me! Stupid, STUPID DOOR!!! AAAAAAARGH!!! •§•§•§•§• Okay. Okay. Okay. You can do this, Ringer. You've completely ruined everything up till now, so you can at least try to go out with some dignity. Chin up. Eyes closed. Face forward. If you don't touch anything, you can't break anything. If you don't say anything, you can't insult her. If you make it through the rest of the night, in the morning you can petition the Princesses to send you to the moon AND the sun. At the same time. Somehow. They can do that, they're the Princesses. By this point in the evening, Ringer was nearing a fugue state. He was locked in a mental loop of berating himself for not thinking, and unable to think of anything else. His actions were becoming more and more automatic, as he fell back on all the habits he'd formed during the run of The Prancing Prince. Which worked fine, until they got to the food cart. ... strapped to a meteor and flung out to the deepest reaches of space! But no, there might be some beauty in that, and that's more than I deserve. Maybe they can- oh, hey, apples! Man, if I only had some pockets, I'd- Wait. Was that... was that MY throat? DID I JUST CLEAR MY THROAT BACK AT HER?! NO NO NO NO! ... AGAIN?! I! But! She! No! This isn't-! This isn't... right... And with a sad little ping!, Ringer curled up inside his own head and started sobbing, as the satire of Blueblood he'd perfected over months of rehearsals and performances took over, in the worst possible way. "Bleh! Ugh! Fritters! Dumplings! Caramel apples?! My royal lips have touched common carnival fare! I'm going to the buffet for some... hors d'oeuvres." If Ringer could see himself right then, he would have bucked himself hard enough to knock his cutie mark off. The nose in the air, the way he enunciated carnival and hors d'oeuvres... it was a perfect Prancing Prince... and a gross betrayal of the Blueblood he'd met that afternoon. ... isn't... right... •§•§•§•§• Ringer had a couple of minutes to come back to himself as he stared at the door to the hall with the buffet. He had nothing else to do while he waited for someone to open the door for him, after all. It was only after thinking about how much he'd started to hate the lifts that he realized he could form a coherent thought again. A few thoughts about sneaking off to find the highest balcony in the castle later, and he was almost ready to beg for forgiveness. From anyone, really. He had no right to be picky at this point. For some reason he couldn't possibly fathom, some expression of infinite mercy and patience beyond mortal pony, his not a date, never could've been a date, why did I ever hope companion for the evening arrived and opened the door for him. Again. Like he should've been doing. Still unwilling to break character though, he marched forward into the hall and was given one last chance to prove himself worthy. For some reason he couldn't possibly fathom, some expression of unbounded enthusiasm and excitement beyond mortal pony, a lunatic had launched themselves off the stage and slammed their chin into a cart and catapulted a ridiculously large cake directly... at... He could see it. He could see exactly how it would play out. The cake coming down, spattering all over that magnificent dress, ruining her mane... no! NO! If nothing else, Ringer could stop this! She could slap him afterwards for grabbing her like that, but he would save her from that cake! It was the absolute least he could do, after mistreating her the whole evening. Ringer leapt into action, swiftly pulling the mare out of the way, and... finding out he had completely misjudged the trajectory. He had just pulled her into the path of the cake. INTO. With a much louder sproing! Ringer lost what little grip on sanity he'd recovered waiting at the door and began babbling. "Ew! Uh, uh, stay back! I just had myself groomed!" After that things became a bit of a blur for the poor actor. There was... shouting? And... and things falling. There was definitely things falling. And animals. Wait, that couldn't have been right, where would animals have come from? When the dust had settled and he stopped babbling, all Ringer knew was that he'd somehow managed to make it back to his dressing room without being trampled by anyone. •§•§•§•§• Ringer nursed his head. After carefully removing the fake horn, he'd spent the next two hours alternating between getting the dye out of his coat and banging his head on the wall. Now, he just wanted to drown his sorrows at the local donut shop and wake up tomorrow with a massive sugar-hangover. The bell over the door rang, but was drowned out by the laughter of... of... oh dear Celestia- wait, no she's here too. Ringer slowly backed out of Pony Joe's, and didn't start whimpering until he has a block away. •§•§•§•§• "... and once I got there, no one could tell me where she WAS! A few ponies thought she'd gone to the Gala but that doesn't make ANY sense. Why would anyone who likes parties want to go to the Gala? It'd be like loving the sea and living on a mountain, or loving apples and growing pears. It's just crazy. Still, I met some nice ponies and made some new penpals. Really, Ponyville is just so incredibly friendly! I really must visit it again sometime. Oh, but enough about my night! How was yours, Ringer?" Ringer just stared up at the prince with hollow eyes, and let out a single, choked sob. "... Ringer?"