//------------------------------// // Hoity Toity -- A Telegram and a Change of Plan // Story: The Album // by Peregrine Caged //------------------------------// Written by: Spectral Rated Everyone Hoity Toity shivered and pulled his scarf tighter as the door slammed shut behind him. After fumbling with the locks for a second, a satisfying click made itself heard. Turning his eyes skyward, Hoity sighed. The blood-red rays of the evening sun danced just above the rooftops of Canterlot, a silent warning to all of Equus; night is falling, seek shelter! Hoity's gaze dropped from the light show above toward the dark and empty storefront. His dark and empty storefront. The mannequins usually placed there had been moved to the storeroom in the back, since he had yet to figure out what use a naked mannequin had. A white sign on the door announced, “Opening times: 11 to 17”. Hoity Toity snorted before turning and beginning his walk home – it had been way too long since he had left his boutique when it actually closed. His two employees, a shop assistant and a bookkeeper, he let leave at due time, while he himself always went to his office in the back to keep working. During daytime, the city of Canterlot was undeniably one of the more beautiful sights in Equestria. The sunshine reflected of the white stone structures, basking the city in their glow. The buildings themselves were nothing short of architectural masterpieces; erected nearly a thousand years ago on the mountainside, they still stood both tall and proud and would likely do so many millennia to come. At night, however, the city was different. The marble buildings of the White City felt cold, yet still not unwelcoming; theirs was a regal and awe inspiring kind of cold. Rising high above the streets, like mountains of silver, their towering shapes bathed the alleys between them in pitch black shadow. The magical lamp posts provided just enough of their flickering, warm glow to reach the next small circle of light, and a chilly wind raced unhindered down the empty streets. The lingering daylight was now fading by the second, and stars were emerging across the sky. Flickering to life one by one, they slowly filled the atmosphere with a cold, faint glow. Hoity Toity paused a second to watch and – for what felt like the thousandth, yet still the first, night in a row – got to witness the rise of the moon from the eastern horizon. A slow, uneventful walk through the starlit city later, Hoity stumbled in through his front door. Stifling a yawn, Hoity pulled off his scarf and threw it over a hatstand, before dragging himself through his home. In contrast to Hoity's posh demeanour and fashionable style, his home was barren, empty and simplistic – a perfect birthplace of inspiration. Stepping into his kitchen, Hoity shook off his weariness. One last thing to get done today. Hoity Toity sat down in a simple, brown chair, placed in front of a matching table. Leaning over a small stack of paper, he yawned. The first few letters he didn't even bother opening. Always the same, anyway. “Collect the ten thousand bits you've won! Try the new number one method of losing weight! Impress your partner with a horn extension!” Frankly, he was amazed they still tried. Hoity nearly missed it. It was a plain, light grey envelope with black print. They don't get more inconspicuous than that. Hoity almost didn't notice picking it up, and he wouldn't have noticed throwing it away, either. A black logotype picturing a letter encased in magic was printed on the corner. Equestrian Telegrams. Machine-written text stated the recipient, Hoity Toity, Canterlot, and the sender, Twilight Sparkle, Ponyville. Ponyville. Twilight Sparkle. Hoity suddenly felt more awake. He knew of her, of course. Everypony of importance did, and most common ponies as well. Child prodigy and personal protégée of Princess Celestia. Element of Magic. Saviour of Equestria. Also one of the hosts of an absolutely horrendous fashion show, but one can't be expected to excel at everything. The empty envelope was cast aside. Hoity didn't even bother aiming for the trash bin. Leaning far out of his chair, he quickly read through the piece of paper. And then a second time. Hoity even got halfway through it a third time before he put it down on the table and leaned back. His brow was furrowed, and he stared intently at the piece of paper. A frown crept upon his lips as he thought back to the previous weekend. The fashion show hosted by the six element bearers had been the cause of lots of commotion and speculation before it was held, and even more afterward.The Equestria Daily had published a two page review of the fiasco, and the 'fashionista' behind it had been the laughing stock of the entire Canterlot elite for days. Hoity glanced at the text again. ”A second chance?” He was surprised they even had the gall to ask. And the story of why the dresses turned out the way they did; how it wasn't really the designer's fault, but their own for pressuring her into sewing them like that? Plausible, at best. Hoity Toity groaned. So Twilight Sparkle and her friends might be telling the truth. This Rarity might, in fact, have an ounce or two of talent. Getting in touch with the fashionista might prove beneficial. Hoity's thoughts returned to his empty storefront. It would be nice to get the mannequins out again, if only to reduce the emptiness of the boutique. Staving off the bareness of the shelves was, after all, the biggest problem with his recent breakthrough. But still... “No.” Hoity Toity hadn't gotten where he was today by being soft and forgiving. If Rarity truly had the talent they all claimed, she would shine in due time. Until then, Hoity would wait. Patience was a virtue, after all, and those who gave up after a single setback weren't going to make it anyway. Hoity stood and headed out of the room. A work calendar hanging on the doorpost drew his attention, and he eyed it as he walked past. Tomorrow: an autumn inspired fashion line launching, Hoity being supposed to make an appearance, and a business meeting with a potential investor. Busy day. “Guess that settles it.” Hoity Toity drew his glance back from the face-up letter on the table and rounded the corner out of his kitchen. The style of Hoity Toity's chamber was akin to that of the rest of the apartment – minimalistic, with only the essentials occupying the floor. A bed and an accompanying bedside table, a mirror, and a drawer. One of the walls featured a large window facing out toward the city. The building wasn't higher than those around, though, so the view was quite mediocre. Mostly rooftops and façades, as well as the top of the castle spires in the distance. After having left all his clothing and accessories in the chamber, Hoity headed for the bathroom for his regular routine. Shooting a glance upward, toward that one loose strand of hair bobbing up and down just barely within his field of view, he smirked. It had always been a trade secret of his, the mane. Nopony knew how he did it, or if it was even his real mane – the magazines had referred to him as “Big Wig” when he first started making a name for himself. Not that he would ever let that deter him, though. The hair was as big a part of his image as the glasses were, and, after all, what did the tabloid journalists know about fashion? When Hoity re-entered his bedroom a short while later, his mane rested undone upon his head. He had pulled the curtains shut earlier, blocking out both the moon's eerie glow as well as any snooping eyes. The willingness of paparazzi to go extreme lengths for whatever would sell was not unheard of, and one would be foolish not to take precautions. While Hoity's chamber was indeed minimalist in style, it certainly did not lack comfort. The mattress' stuffing was densified cloud, imported directly from Cloudsdale. The pegasi magic had made the cloud both heavy enough to not float off, as well as preventing it from dissolving. In terms of softness, it was unrivalled by any conventional materials. As Hoity slipped underneath the sheets, he allowed himself to finally exhale. While sinking even deeper into the comfort of his cloud mattress, his troubled thoughts of parasitic paparazzi and false fashionistas all melted away. Yes, his bed was surely the best of all beds to fall asleep in. The bed did not, however, make waking up more pleasant. “Hoity Toity!” Accompanied with a ring of his doorbell, the shout rang throughout his apartment. Groggily sitting up in his bed, Hoity rubbed his eyes. His alarm clock not having gone off yet told Hoity the hour was too early to deal with anything properly, but he had recognized the voice. Hoity begrudgingly got out of bed and made his way toward the front door. The bell rang again as Hoity approached the door. “Hoity! Come on, open the door!” The fashionista in question rapidly unlocked and pulled open the door. Dragging in the stallion standing outside before swiftly redoing the locks, Hoity Toity turned and gave him a stern glance. "At this hour?" he said, a bit louder than he had intended. "Really?" "Eh..." Hoity Toity's agent, Time Table, winced and fidgeted under his stare. "Terribly sorry, Hoity, but something important has... Hey, what's up with your mane?" "Table, just get to the point." "Jeez, you could afford to keep up your 'sophisticated-and-polite act' outside of business too, you know?” “Table...” Hoity said slowly, narrowing his eyes. “Fine, fine.” He raised a disarming hoof. “That launch you were supposed to attend today? It's been called off.” “Really?” Hoity raised an eyebrow. “How come?” “Eh, not sure. Something about a—" “You know what?” Hoity rubbed his temple. "It really doesn't matter." “Have it your way.” Time Table shrugged. “Hold up a second,” Hoity continued after a short pause. ”You're telling me that you woke me up in order to tell me I have the morning off?” “Uhm, yes.” His agent shot him a smile. “That's it!” “I swear to Celestia, that stallion is going to be the death of me.” “You still have your meeting with Filthy Rich of Ponyville, though.” Not having noticed Hoity's deadpan stare, Time Table produced a slip of paper with some scribbled notes from a pocket and hoofed it over. “You'll be meeting at two at Horte's Cuisine, a small café located close to the town square. Can't miss it.” “Did you say Ponyville?” Hoity raised an eyebrow. “Yes – he was very specific about that. No worries, though; trains depart frequently throughout the whole day. Just hop on one you fancy.” The stallion handed over a plastic card. “I took the liberty of refilling your season pass. Several train trips in the coming weeks.” “All right...” Hoity nodded in thought. “Yeah, I'll see you later then, I suppose.” Time Table gave a brief smile and went to unlock the door, before looking back towards Hoity. "Oh, by the way. I hear Filthy Rich much prefers his last name." A few hours later, Hoity again walked out of his chamber. Perfectly styled mane upon his head, fashionable collar around his neck, trademark glasses covering his eyes – he was all set to go. Briskly trotting down the hallway toward the front door, he shot a glance into the kitchen as he passed by. And came to a stop. The white letter with the black typewriting still lay open on the table where he'd left it yesterday. “If you would feel so inclined, please meet us tomorrow at noon outside Rarity's boutique in Ponyville.” The ticking of a clock hung upon the kitchen wall drew his attention. He did have time to spare. Hoity Toity gave a wry smile as he picked up the letter and stashed it away in a pocket, before heading toward the door. There was fashion to be found.