What did you do for your latest birthday? Did you kill a Rhea?
Now why would I kill a flightless bird for my birthday? That's just silly, not to mention unnecessarily cruel.
Anyway, my last birthday was alright. Nothing too fancy; just a nice quiet night with my husband Dragonfly. Actually, here's an interesting coincidence. My birthday was actually the day we got married. I guess you could call that a birthiversary. That's what my son Snapdragon called it when we told him about it. He really did say the darnedest things when he was a little colt.
Of course, I did get some nice presents from my friends and family. Star Catcher sent me a lovely ice cream cake, Admiral Fairweather got me a case of some of his favorite sparkling cider, and Medley even put on a private concert for me and Dragonfly. It's amazing that after all these years, she still has the voice of an angel.
Why did you fight a bugbear? What happened?
Why did I fight a bugbear? Because it was attacking innocent ponies, that's why. And what happened? My squadron and I kicked its bumblebee rump into next week. Of course, it wasn't too difficult. A bulky fellow like that can't hope to match our impressive maneuverability. It did manage to bite me once, but nothing was seriously injured besides my pride.
I guess you were expecting there to be more, but not all of my battles were as epic as the ones against Scylla and Catrina.
Do you know the Muffin Man?
I know the Muffin Mare. Does that count?
Did you ever get in trouble as a young filly?
Oh, sure. All the time. I was never a pony you wanted to piss off. Truth be told, I didn't express myself with my words all that much when I was young. I've actually lost count of how many fights I got into on the playground. Most of them involved defending Thistle Whistle from bullies, which shouldn't really come as a surprise at this point.
But I think what really got me into trouble was that I never took my defeats graciously when I was a kid. I'll admit it, I did have a bit of a rebellious streak. Usually, you wouldn't see that in a military pony, but what can I say? I know at least one of my role models was a rebel, even though she wasn't the most aggressive ponies in the world. Anyway, whenever I was led off to detention or something, they always had to drag me kicking and screaming. It didn't help that I had a very, colorful vocabulary. Trust me on this, Mr. Book. Swear words and sass sound like they should go together like peanut butter and jelly, but when talking to your superiors, it only serves to make the hole you dug for yourself just that much deeper.
I suppose my upbringing was a bit of a mixed blessing when it came to my attitude. On the one hoof, my aggressive nature was considered to be normal for pegasi my age. Remember, before I founded the Wonderbolts, peaceful pegasi like Private Pansy and Medley were a rare breed. Even Thistle Whistle wasn't above getting physical when she had to. Granted, she wasn't the best fighter in the world. Her flying was phenomenal, but when it came to combat, she just played things too safe. Which is why I usually had to step in whenever she was being picked on.
On the flip side, however, pegasi also value discipline. This is clearly demonstrated by our ancient military traditions. And this might surprise you, but I was not a very disciplined pony growing up. Seriously, I don't think many ponies in my class could've ever predicted me moving up in the ranks of the military, let alone becoming a general. I must say, I do get a certain satisfaction proving them wrong.
Although you want to know what's funny? Despite my aggressive tendencies, I never once struck my sister. And no matter how much Thistle Whistle's habits annoyed me, I never hit her, either. I also didn't talk back to my parents all that much, and whenever I did, I immediately regretted it. I dunno, I guess there was a certain respect I had for my folks that kept my sassiness in check. I just wish the same applied to my teachers.
It wasn't until my days in the Cloudsdale Militia that I learned to curb these impulses. There, I learned that there was a big difference between a militaristic culture and actually serving in the military. And boy, did I learn it quick. Sassing your teacher gets you an extra hour in detention and maybe a call to your parents. Sassing your CO gets you confined to barracks for three days or put on KP for an entire week. Fighting a bully on the playground gets you a black eye. Engaging in fisticuffs with your fellow recruits could very well get somepony killed, even if you are careful (thank Celestia I never did that; I just know it happened). It was that stark contrast in environments that helped me shape up and fly right. Also, there's the whole maturity factor as well. That's the funny thing about life. As you get older, you start to realize just how stupid you were as a kid.
Of course, that's not to say I had completely forgotten these habits. There were still plenty of times in my life when I would just lash out against somepony out of anger, either through barbed language or with my hooves. In fact, I think most of my answers to your questions could be considered a bit on the cheeky side. I dunno, I guess I'm just in a bit of a sassy mood today. Hey, considering my age and all I accomplished, I think I've earned the right to indulge in a little bit of sass every now and then.
While I feel a little sorry for Songbird…yeah, she was a moron. The hell made her think that was a good idea?
...
If you truly believe that, you still don't understand Songbird and the crap she had to put up with in her life. I'll be the first to admit that what she did was incredibly foolish and out of line. You'll get no argument from me there. Even so, can't we both agree that calling her a moron is just a little insensitive? Hasn't the poor girl suffered enough?
You ask what made her think what she did was a good idea, but in all honesty, I don't believe she was thinking. At the very least, she wasn't thinking straight. You have to understand, our skirmish with the Nagas and the Garuda was Songbird's first (and last) taste in real combat. She never had to go on a mission like this before. So when she saw all the carnage and needless bloodshed the two factions were inflicting on one another, it overwhelmed her to the point where she just wanted it to stop. In the end, Songbird was a victim of circumstance. She had a traditional responsibility foisted upon her by her militaristic family, and she simply couldn't handle the stress. That's all there is to it.
Now then, let's make something clear, Mr. Book. I don't like it when ponies disrespect the dead. Songbird may have been foolishly naïve, but she wasn't stupid. For the record, neither was Thistle Whistle. And if you ever insult either of them or anypony else I care about again, I can't be held responsible for what I'll do to you. This is your only warning, Mr. Book. Heed it well.