Post by Bardigan on Jun 2, 2014 0:31:53 GMT -5
Trains. Why does anypony like taking trains anywhere? Blueblood hates them. He hates the cushions for being uncomfortable, the wheels for being loud, the steam for being... steamy. He hates the conductor for bugging him, a *prince*, about tickets, and he especially hates this podunk little town that Marble has forced him to come to sans the usual royal accoutrements. He sniffs as he steps off, allowing the porters to take his bags, realizing it smells here. It smells like dirt. It smells like dirt and not rich ponies and freshly cut grass and wild rainclouds. All the thing sthat are *not.* *Canterlot.* Not noble at all. Blueblood hates this place.
"Right," says Vinyl to her reflection in the mirror. "You can do this. It'll be easy! Just a few days, with him here... just be really really courteous and whatever and he'll be fine..." She tugs a comb through her mane, dragging it into its trademark style. "He won't be much of a problem, I mean... our house is nice! And big. Almost like a palace, but with more musical instruments. And kids, what if he likes kids?" Vinyl levitates some lipgloss to her mouth. "If he likes kids then we'll have *no problem at all*." Stepping away from the mirror, she gives the house one last check before trotting to the station. Seeing Blueblood on the platform she trots over, bowing lightly before him. "Your Highness," she says curtly, extending a hoof. "My name is Vinyl, I'm Marble's wife. Welcome to Ponyville!"
Blueblood *screeches* and almost jumps out of his skin, breathing heavily until he realizes that this white mare has a blue mane and isn't at all the white mare he thought it was. That done, he greets Vinyl with the worst kind of scowl that it's possible to greet a pony with. In fact, if Blueblood were scowling any harder his scrunched up cheeks would make him look like a raisin. He looks down at Vinyl's hoof and deigns not to take it. "Oh, right," he mutters. "You're the, um... Dee Dee Pawn Three or... whoever." He looks over her head at Ponyville. "Well, let's get this over with."
Vinyl_Scratch blinks as Blueblood almost runs for cover. She momentarily wonders if she forgot to brush her fur or something. "Um..." She retracts her hoof and shuffles it across the ground. "Yeah, DJ PON-3, actually. But you can call me Vinyl," Vinyl puts on her most encouraging smile. Beeeeam. "So, uh... do you want me to show you around town? There are a few places here I know you'll love."
She's smiling way too much for Blueblood's liking. Obviously only a mare as strange as her would live with Marble, who is strange enough on his own. "No, I do not," he sighs. "I'm sure there's practically nothing out here that would satisfy the royal appetites of one like myself. I've been suffering under a horrible mistreatment and have been without adequate funds or entertainment for *weeks* now, no matter *how* good I get at my job-..." He trails off, blinking. He was trying to commiserate with a commoner. He really was going crazy. "Just... just show me where I'm supposed to sleep, please."
Vinyl_Scratch listens to Blueblood for a moment, tilting her head curiously. She decides he's rather comical, and that she might in fact like him. If only to relish at the opportunities she'll get to wind him up. Marble's objective of bettering Blueblood's disposition seems to have fled from her mind. She giggles, with an almost sickening happiness. Sickening of course to those who do not enjoy happiness. "Sure, come right this way," Vinyl says, trotting past the station. "We live just out of town, in this neat little residential area on the hill. It's called Runaway Cart Road, since before the barriers at the bottom were built there used to be a few near misses with broken carts. Gravity don't much like that place, I tell you!" She gently nudges Blueblood's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Don't you worry though, dude. We're on hoof."
"Uuuugh," Blueblood groans, glancing down at the bump to his shoulder. He quickly brings out a clean handkerchief and wipes the area down, spritzing it with a bottle of disinfectant from his saddlebags. The porters behind him cart his sickeningly huge load of bags in silence. "Why is everything here so... *small*?" he wonders, amazed that anypony can possibly live in such tiny thatch roofed cottages as these. "There isn't a paved road to be seen either. I knew this place was bourgeois, but *this* is ridiculous."
"You do the spraying thing too?" Vinyl asks without hesitation, looking at her shoulder. "My Marbsie does that all the time," she says lovingly. "Not when I touch him, though, he says that's okay." Vinyl looks around at the little houses. Considering she doesn't know what bourgeois means, she simply replies with, "Yeah, it's small, but it's home. Besides, our place is quite big. We have plenty of spare rooms, isn't that great? My kids love slumber parties in this house. Say... do you have any kids? Are you married or anything?"
"No," Blueblood says with another aloof sigh. "There isn't a mare alive who has managed to catch my eye, let alone posess the grace, the poise, the ineffable *nobility* to be worthy of being wed to yours truly." He says with a proud flick of his mane. He likes the way his mane moves so much that he does it again, and again, gracing the commoners to the wonderful swish of his luxurious hair. He does this while he's still walking, so it looks a little more like he's trying to fend off a persistent horsefly.
"Gosh, that's a shame," says Vinyl, trying to keep from gritting her teeth. She has a pretty good idea why he hasn't found a mare. "Do you ever get lonely up in your castle? What do you do in there?" Vinyl turns the street corner to reveal her home - a pretty big, pretty modern-looking home which still manages to keep to Ponyville's rustic architect style.
"Why, I rule!" Blueblood says with a final toss of his mane. "I maintain the dignity and glory of the house Blueblood! I am the fifty-first Blueblood to bear that name, the nineteenth stallion, and the *first* to be declared most eligible bachelor in *all* of Equestria five years in a row." Suddenly Vinyl has an issue of Noble Notoriety in her face, with a shining image of Blueblood's grinning face staring back at her. "Seen here. Without me, my house would have long since devolved into obscurity. Though Marble has been trying to smooth out some of the rougher edges of my personality. Not that there are *many,* of course. I expect he'll be showering me with praise and the Princesses will return me to my throne soon enough."
Vinyl_Scratch makes a soft 'huhm' noise with her lips, looking straight back at Blueblood. "So you just... sit there?" She unlocks the door and trots inside, before making her way to the kitchen. "Well," she calls out to the hallway, "I'm a seven times platinum recording artist who constantly makes headlines around the world. I've been Neigh magazine's hottest musician for... four years, now? This summer I'm touring the Crystal Empire. Do you want something to drink?"
Blueblood takes one look around the house before giving it a sniff. It's the disapproving kind of sniff, but not the most severe kind where he turns his nose away. No, he just sniffs at it and resumes a disdainful scowl. "There are many artists," he replies to Vinyl, "but only one Blueblood. Also, I do not think this house will fit all of my things. This is unacceptable."
Only one Blueblood? Good. That means he's a dying race. "Unacceptable?" says Vinyl, reappearing in the hallway with two glasses of lemonade in her magic. She levitates one towards the prince and sips at the other. "I'm sure you'll get used to it, I'm sure. Come upstairs, I'll show you your room! I made it up all nicely for you."
And speaking of coming up the stairs, Octavia makes her way up, clean and fresh and fully clothed in her delightful pink bow tie, to meet the day. She nods at Vinyl, and her guest, heads past the threshold into the kitchen, then pokes her head back out. "Prince Blueblood? I hadn't expected Vinyl to have such austpicious company today. I'm not sure if you remember me. I perform every year at the Grand Galloping Gala."
( Blueblood makes a tiny little growling noise in the back of his throat. Clearly it's an insult waiting to happen but he manages not to voice it, strangling it with all of his willpower. "Well we're just going to have to *find* somewhere to store what I *cannot* fit," he snaps instead. When Octavia shows up he turns and gives her a blank stare. "... Yes!" he says suddenly. "Yes, I remember. You play the... double bass. Of course I remember you." Now hopefully Vinyl introduces them so he can remember her name, too. )
( ( Blueblood makes a tiny little growling noise in the back of his throat. Clearly it's an insult waiting to happen but he manages not to voice it, strangling it with all of his willpower. "Well we're just going to have to *find* somewhere to store what I *cannot* fit," he snaps instead. When Octavia shows up he turns and gives her a blank stare. "... Yes!" he says suddenly. "Yes, I remember. You play the... double bass. Of course I remember you." Now hopefully Vinyl introduces them so he can remember her name, too. ) )
Vinyl_Scratch almost shrieks as Octavia seems to teleport into existence, a tiny splash of her lemonade rolling from the glass to hit the floor. Vinyl bites her lip to avoid cursing. "Oct-avia!" she says with a broad, broad smile. Argh. "I didn't tell you! Prince Blueblood has come to stay. With us. For a few days." She relaxes just slightly, her heart rate slowing back down as she turns to Blueblood. "Your Highness, this is Octavia. She plays the cello and has an apartment down there," she gestures towards the stairs. "Please don't... wander around her place, though. Unless she invites you, of course. Then that's okay." Vinyl shoots a look to Octavia which suggests the sentence, 'Get me out of here.'
Octavia smiles at Blueblood and nods politely. "Charmed, as always," she says. "Would you like a spot of tea?" she asks before turning her ears toward Vinyl and smiling attentively. Then the unthinkable happens. "W-w-w-with us?" She swallows hard and says, "Oh my, what an honor." She pinches her brow hard and whispers to Vinyl, "Why would I invite him? Why did YOU invite him?" She looks up and flashes Blueblood a big clench jawed grin to make sure he isn't overhearing her whispers.
( Blueblood is standing right there, yet he somehow assumes a nonchalant stance and smiles back at Octavia like they aren't whispering about him about two feet away. But then again, that *is* a very nice vase in the corner, so he's decided to stare at it for a while. "Oh, don't worry. I am *far* too noble to intrude upon a mare uninvited. I let my charm find its way in first." )
Octavia's facial muscles are at war with themselves trying to conceal the invading expression of revulsion.
Vinyl_Scratch leans over to whisper to Octavia, "I'll explain everything later. This wasn't my choice. At all." ... before she returns to all-smiles for the prince. "Shall we... go up to your room? Like I said, we have plenty of space so we'll find room for all your things easily."
"Oh, certainly," Blueblood says, seemingly getting tired of being angry all the time and deciding to go back to his usual utterly amazing and handsome (oblivious) self. He waves a hoof upstairs in front of Vinyl. "Show the way, then. Will there be anypony bringing breakfast up in the mornings, or was Marble being serious about that whole... 'living as a normal pony'... thing?"
Octavia edges away toward the kitchen. She doesn't wait for Blueblood's answer. "I'll put on the tea." She is anxious to leave Vinyl to Blueblood's tender mercies and escape with her own fur in tact.
Vinyl_Scratch looks almost incredulous that Octavia is leaving her alone with... that! Her eyes momentarily look over Blueblood. He's not all that handsome, really. His muzzle is a little too large. And he smells a bit weird, like a mix of dust and vanilla. Apparently Canterlot stallions like dust and vanilla cologne. Vinyl trots upstairs, down the hallway and to the guest room, the largest she could find. It is decorated pristinely thanks to Vinyl's creativity and Marble's excessive cleaning. "Ta dah."
Blueblood takes another look around the room. He trots inside, inspecting every corner, and wipes his hoof over the tops of the dressers. He fluffs the pillows, throws himself across the bed to check for maximum snugglebility of the blankets, and turns on and off every light in the room. He stamps on the carpet to make sure it's comfy to his immaculate hooves. Then he turns to Vinyl and twitches his nose. "It's barely passable," he declares. "Whoever designed this place has absolutely *no* eye for interior decorating."
Octavia heads out to the kitchen table, and sets out a tea set. The fine china, of course. She delicately arranges all the cups and saucers just so, along with a plate of sugar cookies and the tea pot a bowl of sugar cubes with silver tongs, and a creamer, all set delicately in the center of the table. She spends a few moments gently tweaking the locations this way and that for maximum symetry, and takes a seat. She waits for at least one of them to return downstairs before disturbing the carefully laid out tea set, and having herself a sip.
Vinyl_Scratch waits by the door as Blueblood reviews the room, and looks almost... hurt at his critique. She straightens, ears folding against her head. "We designed it, you know. Our family. We designed this place so it could be filled with love and happiness and laughter. Maybe that's why the Princesses sent you here." Vinyl shrugs gently. "You get unpacked, I'll be downstairs." She turns and trots down to meet Octavia, sitting herself down at the table next to her friend. "How long you reckon until one of us cracks up?"
Octavia says "Speak for yourself, Vinyl. I'll be locking myself in the basement for the duration. Thank Celestia at least that he won't be living with us forever." She's already pouring Vinyl's tea cup. "One lump or two? And before you go looking, I've locked up the irish cream. A perfectly good way to ruin a cup of tea, that is."
Vinyl_Scratch says "Oh, I don't need Irish cream. More like... whisky. Vodka. Something that'll keep me unconscious until he leaves."
Vinyl_Scratch headtables. "Just... keep him away from the foals."
Blueblood blinks at Vinyl's reprimand. He coughs and looks around, actually having the dignity to look embarrased. "Oh," is all he can say. Is it really *his* fault that everypony outside of Canterlot designs their *own* rooms? He thought they got a contractor like a normal family. He decides to poke around upstairs, rearranging a few things to liking. Then he unpacks his belongings, starting of course with an 8x10 glossy of himself that he puts on the bedside table. "Don't worry handsome. This nightmare will be over soon," he tells himself.
Octavia puts three sugar cubes in Vinyl's drink, and pats her shoulder with a look of reassurance. "It's not all that bad. I'm certain that... that I will think of some silver lining, and let you know."
( The silver lining is that Blueblood is here! They should be happy about that. Blueblood comes back downstairs when he hears Vinyl leave the room, and his face just *beams* at the sight of some good old fashioned tea. "Oh, thank goodness!" he says, picking up the pot, probably just before Octavia is about to get a refill of her own. He adds three sugar cubes and slurps. He slurps very, very loudly. "How did you know I wanted tea?" he asks Octavia, because of course the only reason tea could be here is for him to enjoy it. )
In this case, it's true. "A proper host always offers her guests tea. I only regret that it wouldn't be the kind of tea of which you're accustom," says Octavia.
( Sluuuuuuuuurp. "Well, it *isn't*," he huffs. "But I suppose for a, um... common pony's drink it isn't gutwrenching." He peers at Octavia over the rim of his cup. "You seem like a pony of sophistication. However did you end up in a place like *this?* Let alone the house of Vinyl Scratch. Whomakestheworstmusicever," he adds under his breath. )
With a great scream and a cacophany, Marble crashes right into his kitchen through the window and lands headfirst on one of the empty chairs at the dining table.
Octavia tries diligently to maintain her polite smile while her favorite tea is so rejected. "I would be happy to find a finer blend for tomorrow, if you'd like." She hmms? "Well it's very kind of you to say, but I very much enjoy living with Vinyl. She can be somewhat... unrefined, but we're good friends." Octavia nearly falls off her chair at the sudden appearance of her landlord!
Blueblood slowly turns to regard Marble as he smashes into his own house. "I thought you were trying to teach me to be *more* socially competent," he deadpans. "Unless you throw away all regard for decorum the moment you cross the castle threshold?" Clearly he is enjoying this moment of superiority over the tyrannical Artifact Keeper.
Marble of course doesn't mention he was probably fleeing from some pollen dust or somethign equally ridiculous. It takes a little while before Marble, dishevelled and messy, sits upright at his table. "... I'm home." He says calmly.
Octavia pours Marble his spot of tea.
"I can see that," Blueblood sniffs, setting down his tea. "Now then. I presume that we have an itinerary of some kind to follow while we're here? If we're going to do this we might as well do it right."
Marble sips his tea and, likely to Blueblood's horror, turns to her and says, "Oh, you broke out your Imperial Blend, I see. I hear Celestia herself drinks this." Marble almost feels like high society just drinking it. "Has he broken anything?" Marble says, watching Blueblood warily.
"Hm? Well, we are entertaining royalty, Marble," says Octavia. She shakes her head at the question, too.
Blueblood glances at the tea and gives it a sniff. Well, it doesn't *smell* like Imperial Blend. "Of *course* I haven't broken anything!" he gasps, offended at the very notion. "I am a picture of elegance and good manners. You should *know* that by now, Marble."
"Well good." Marble says, sipping and sighing. Yeah, this is really good tea. "For today, you're socializing. You've already pretty much met all of Ponyville's bourgeois." Marble sips more of the tea, "But, you really need to meet the SOUL of Ponyville. The real applie pie of it, if you will. Incidentally this town WAS founded by apple farmers..."
Octavia watches carefully to make sure everypony is using their saucers, and not putting their cups down on the table. Heaven forbid if they make a little ring of tea stain. "Oh? Is that why you're moving in?"
"Moving in? *Please*," Blueblood scoffs. "I wouldn't think of living here even if-..." He bites his tongue, trying to think of a more... *diplomatic* way of putting it. It's the only thing that'll get him out of here. "Well, that is, no. I'm not going to live here. Just being... coached. Purely because the Princesses asked it of me and I am so eager to please them of course. Did you say apple *farmers?*" he asks, leaning over to Marble and sticking his tongue out. They're going where there's *dirt* now? How much must he suffer?!
"Yes, apple farmers. We're home to Sweet Apple Acres... which is probably the best place in Equestria for apples. The holder of the Element of Honesty tends to run things there... though her siblings are both... well, one is strong enough to move houses, apparently and the youngest one... well, let's just say Ponyville is home to an airship." Marble says in a bit of a disturbed tone.
Octavia widens her eyes at the juvenile tonuge sticking. She stands up, sets her tea and saucer on her back, and says, curtly, "Please excuse me, Marble, your excellence, I'm afraid I'm feeling a touch ill," before heading off to her basement. She has her limits.
( Blueblood's head turns to follow Octavia, his tongue still poking out between his lips.Look at it, Octavia. It's forcing you to look at it. "I *knew* there was something wrong with the tea," he mutters to himself. "Did you say... *airship?*" he asks Marble. "I know I didn't see a hangar when I came here." )
Octavia is far too polite not to lie to Marble's face. "Whatever do you mean? I'm not bothered."
Blueblood doesn't know what brought this sudden change in subject, but he's pretty sure he was just insulted. "Hold on! What do you mean 'just' Blueblood?" he squawks indignantly. "Did I not come all the way down here deigning this town noble enough to hold the sheer wonder of my presence? Did I not sit here and sip this tea even though it has so clearly made that poor mare ill? What are you both *on* about?"
( "I don't know if you didn't notice yet, Blueblood..." Marble says, walking over to comfort Octavia. Then he turns around. "Can you count any Ponyvillians who have been impressed with you 'gracing' them with your presence over genuinely JOINING them here in Ponyville? Your arrogance leads you to miss the point of all this. Again." )
Octavia adjusts her bow tie with a little sigh. "I suppose I'm feeling well enough to clean up." She takes away the china, assuming they're done with it.
Blueblood's eyes roll so far back they almost disappear underneath his eyeslids. "Umm..." Oh, wait, wait, he's got this. "There was, um... well... streets! Full of them!" He gestures wildly. "They were so impressed with me they were making sure to move as far away as they could when I walked by. Clearly they were aware that giving a royal his space is just good manners!" He blinks and leans forward, biting his lip. "That... that was a good thing, right?"
MArble sighs... "Oh boy... see, here's the thing, Blueblood. And I have to tell you this in the hope you'll listen and improve, since, somehow, I *still* believe in you..." Marble clears his throat. "Nopony likes you. This is a problem, because you have a lot of traits that could make you an *excellent* prince. Except you seem to go under the misconception that being prince is about making ponies think you're superior. This results in you basically being a prince of... well... nothing."
Oh dear. This is getting even more awkward than before, thinks Octavia. She starts heading off to the kitchen with the tea set on her back.
Blueblood blinks at Marble, his forelegs all curled up so adorably over his studly chest. He blinks again. There is a long, long moment of silence as gears seem to be turning inside of Blueblood's head. Slowly. Slowly. Click. "That's ridiculous!" he barks. "A prince of nothing?! How dare you! I am a scion of House Blueblood, fifty-first in my line! I am a nephew of *alicorns!* I didn't come all the way out here to be insulted. I did this of my own free will because I thought you were here to *help* me!" He jumps up from his chair. "I see where that got me. I'll go it alone then!" He stomps to the door and flings it open with his magic. "I *know* somepony out there likes me. And if they don't like me then I'll just show them how great I am! You'll see!"
Marble walks over to the door, looking unimpressed. He doesn't close the door, but he does ask a rather pertinent question. "You don't have any idea how you're going to do that, do you?" Marble is silent a moment, before continuing. "I *am* helping you. But I can't help you by babying you and outright lying about your situation. You want my help, I'll help you. You don't also fine, but I think you'll soon find what you think of as 'helping' isn't really helping anything at all. It's not your presence they need, prince. It's your *service.*"
Octavia peeks out the door from behind Marble with a look of pity on her muzzle.
"Service?" Blueblood says, hushed for a moment. His eyes do that rolly thing where they almost go back into his head. It almost looks like he's about to relent. But this is Blueblood we're talking about. "Of course! SERVICE!" he says, and gently pushes Marble out of the way. "Thank you for that wonderful idea, Marble. I'll go out there and serve. You said there was an apple orchard nearby? Well, I'll just go there and *serve.* I have *no* need of your services anymore, Marble. Good *bye.*" Click goes the door. Blueblood stands around a moment outside to see if they'll pity him and run after him. He doesn't *really* want to go where there's dirt, but it's better than being insulted.
( Marble rolls his eyes and trots over to Octavia. "He'll learn, but I think he'll probably have to experience what's really going on about him first-hoof. I figure a debacle at Sweet Apple Acres might actually be a good start, though I suppose somepony should keep an eye on him so he doesn't ruin anything..." )
Oh, really? So they *aren't* going to rush after him and throw themselves at his hooves and beg forgiveness and say oh what a wonderful Prince he is we were so wrong about you? Even after all that?! What does it TAKE in this town? Blueblood harumpfs grandly and sticks his nose in the air, stalking off through the streets of Ponyville. If they don't believe, then he will show them. He said it before and he'll say it again: They'll see. They'll ALL see!
"He'll be back. I have his manebrush. And his cologne. And I still control his finances." Marble says simply. "The princesses are really hoping I can make him at least somewhat of a decent pony. The hard part, it seems, probably isn't getting him to do something good, it's getting through his thick skull seems to be the problem."
"Right," says Vinyl to her reflection in the mirror. "You can do this. It'll be easy! Just a few days, with him here... just be really really courteous and whatever and he'll be fine..." She tugs a comb through her mane, dragging it into its trademark style. "He won't be much of a problem, I mean... our house is nice! And big. Almost like a palace, but with more musical instruments. And kids, what if he likes kids?" Vinyl levitates some lipgloss to her mouth. "If he likes kids then we'll have *no problem at all*." Stepping away from the mirror, she gives the house one last check before trotting to the station. Seeing Blueblood on the platform she trots over, bowing lightly before him. "Your Highness," she says curtly, extending a hoof. "My name is Vinyl, I'm Marble's wife. Welcome to Ponyville!"
Blueblood *screeches* and almost jumps out of his skin, breathing heavily until he realizes that this white mare has a blue mane and isn't at all the white mare he thought it was. That done, he greets Vinyl with the worst kind of scowl that it's possible to greet a pony with. In fact, if Blueblood were scowling any harder his scrunched up cheeks would make him look like a raisin. He looks down at Vinyl's hoof and deigns not to take it. "Oh, right," he mutters. "You're the, um... Dee Dee Pawn Three or... whoever." He looks over her head at Ponyville. "Well, let's get this over with."
Vinyl_Scratch blinks as Blueblood almost runs for cover. She momentarily wonders if she forgot to brush her fur or something. "Um..." She retracts her hoof and shuffles it across the ground. "Yeah, DJ PON-3, actually. But you can call me Vinyl," Vinyl puts on her most encouraging smile. Beeeeam. "So, uh... do you want me to show you around town? There are a few places here I know you'll love."
She's smiling way too much for Blueblood's liking. Obviously only a mare as strange as her would live with Marble, who is strange enough on his own. "No, I do not," he sighs. "I'm sure there's practically nothing out here that would satisfy the royal appetites of one like myself. I've been suffering under a horrible mistreatment and have been without adequate funds or entertainment for *weeks* now, no matter *how* good I get at my job-..." He trails off, blinking. He was trying to commiserate with a commoner. He really was going crazy. "Just... just show me where I'm supposed to sleep, please."
Vinyl_Scratch listens to Blueblood for a moment, tilting her head curiously. She decides he's rather comical, and that she might in fact like him. If only to relish at the opportunities she'll get to wind him up. Marble's objective of bettering Blueblood's disposition seems to have fled from her mind. She giggles, with an almost sickening happiness. Sickening of course to those who do not enjoy happiness. "Sure, come right this way," Vinyl says, trotting past the station. "We live just out of town, in this neat little residential area on the hill. It's called Runaway Cart Road, since before the barriers at the bottom were built there used to be a few near misses with broken carts. Gravity don't much like that place, I tell you!" She gently nudges Blueblood's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Don't you worry though, dude. We're on hoof."
"Uuuugh," Blueblood groans, glancing down at the bump to his shoulder. He quickly brings out a clean handkerchief and wipes the area down, spritzing it with a bottle of disinfectant from his saddlebags. The porters behind him cart his sickeningly huge load of bags in silence. "Why is everything here so... *small*?" he wonders, amazed that anypony can possibly live in such tiny thatch roofed cottages as these. "There isn't a paved road to be seen either. I knew this place was bourgeois, but *this* is ridiculous."
"You do the spraying thing too?" Vinyl asks without hesitation, looking at her shoulder. "My Marbsie does that all the time," she says lovingly. "Not when I touch him, though, he says that's okay." Vinyl looks around at the little houses. Considering she doesn't know what bourgeois means, she simply replies with, "Yeah, it's small, but it's home. Besides, our place is quite big. We have plenty of spare rooms, isn't that great? My kids love slumber parties in this house. Say... do you have any kids? Are you married or anything?"
"No," Blueblood says with another aloof sigh. "There isn't a mare alive who has managed to catch my eye, let alone posess the grace, the poise, the ineffable *nobility* to be worthy of being wed to yours truly." He says with a proud flick of his mane. He likes the way his mane moves so much that he does it again, and again, gracing the commoners to the wonderful swish of his luxurious hair. He does this while he's still walking, so it looks a little more like he's trying to fend off a persistent horsefly.
"Gosh, that's a shame," says Vinyl, trying to keep from gritting her teeth. She has a pretty good idea why he hasn't found a mare. "Do you ever get lonely up in your castle? What do you do in there?" Vinyl turns the street corner to reveal her home - a pretty big, pretty modern-looking home which still manages to keep to Ponyville's rustic architect style.
"Why, I rule!" Blueblood says with a final toss of his mane. "I maintain the dignity and glory of the house Blueblood! I am the fifty-first Blueblood to bear that name, the nineteenth stallion, and the *first* to be declared most eligible bachelor in *all* of Equestria five years in a row." Suddenly Vinyl has an issue of Noble Notoriety in her face, with a shining image of Blueblood's grinning face staring back at her. "Seen here. Without me, my house would have long since devolved into obscurity. Though Marble has been trying to smooth out some of the rougher edges of my personality. Not that there are *many,* of course. I expect he'll be showering me with praise and the Princesses will return me to my throne soon enough."
Vinyl_Scratch makes a soft 'huhm' noise with her lips, looking straight back at Blueblood. "So you just... sit there?" She unlocks the door and trots inside, before making her way to the kitchen. "Well," she calls out to the hallway, "I'm a seven times platinum recording artist who constantly makes headlines around the world. I've been Neigh magazine's hottest musician for... four years, now? This summer I'm touring the Crystal Empire. Do you want something to drink?"
Blueblood takes one look around the house before giving it a sniff. It's the disapproving kind of sniff, but not the most severe kind where he turns his nose away. No, he just sniffs at it and resumes a disdainful scowl. "There are many artists," he replies to Vinyl, "but only one Blueblood. Also, I do not think this house will fit all of my things. This is unacceptable."
Only one Blueblood? Good. That means he's a dying race. "Unacceptable?" says Vinyl, reappearing in the hallway with two glasses of lemonade in her magic. She levitates one towards the prince and sips at the other. "I'm sure you'll get used to it, I'm sure. Come upstairs, I'll show you your room! I made it up all nicely for you."
And speaking of coming up the stairs, Octavia makes her way up, clean and fresh and fully clothed in her delightful pink bow tie, to meet the day. She nods at Vinyl, and her guest, heads past the threshold into the kitchen, then pokes her head back out. "Prince Blueblood? I hadn't expected Vinyl to have such austpicious company today. I'm not sure if you remember me. I perform every year at the Grand Galloping Gala."
( Blueblood makes a tiny little growling noise in the back of his throat. Clearly it's an insult waiting to happen but he manages not to voice it, strangling it with all of his willpower. "Well we're just going to have to *find* somewhere to store what I *cannot* fit," he snaps instead. When Octavia shows up he turns and gives her a blank stare. "... Yes!" he says suddenly. "Yes, I remember. You play the... double bass. Of course I remember you." Now hopefully Vinyl introduces them so he can remember her name, too. )
( ( Blueblood makes a tiny little growling noise in the back of his throat. Clearly it's an insult waiting to happen but he manages not to voice it, strangling it with all of his willpower. "Well we're just going to have to *find* somewhere to store what I *cannot* fit," he snaps instead. When Octavia shows up he turns and gives her a blank stare. "... Yes!" he says suddenly. "Yes, I remember. You play the... double bass. Of course I remember you." Now hopefully Vinyl introduces them so he can remember her name, too. ) )
Vinyl_Scratch almost shrieks as Octavia seems to teleport into existence, a tiny splash of her lemonade rolling from the glass to hit the floor. Vinyl bites her lip to avoid cursing. "Oct-avia!" she says with a broad, broad smile. Argh. "I didn't tell you! Prince Blueblood has come to stay. With us. For a few days." She relaxes just slightly, her heart rate slowing back down as she turns to Blueblood. "Your Highness, this is Octavia. She plays the cello and has an apartment down there," she gestures towards the stairs. "Please don't... wander around her place, though. Unless she invites you, of course. Then that's okay." Vinyl shoots a look to Octavia which suggests the sentence, 'Get me out of here.'
Octavia smiles at Blueblood and nods politely. "Charmed, as always," she says. "Would you like a spot of tea?" she asks before turning her ears toward Vinyl and smiling attentively. Then the unthinkable happens. "W-w-w-with us?" She swallows hard and says, "Oh my, what an honor." She pinches her brow hard and whispers to Vinyl, "Why would I invite him? Why did YOU invite him?" She looks up and flashes Blueblood a big clench jawed grin to make sure he isn't overhearing her whispers.
( Blueblood is standing right there, yet he somehow assumes a nonchalant stance and smiles back at Octavia like they aren't whispering about him about two feet away. But then again, that *is* a very nice vase in the corner, so he's decided to stare at it for a while. "Oh, don't worry. I am *far* too noble to intrude upon a mare uninvited. I let my charm find its way in first." )
Octavia's facial muscles are at war with themselves trying to conceal the invading expression of revulsion.
Vinyl_Scratch leans over to whisper to Octavia, "I'll explain everything later. This wasn't my choice. At all." ... before she returns to all-smiles for the prince. "Shall we... go up to your room? Like I said, we have plenty of space so we'll find room for all your things easily."
"Oh, certainly," Blueblood says, seemingly getting tired of being angry all the time and deciding to go back to his usual utterly amazing and handsome (oblivious) self. He waves a hoof upstairs in front of Vinyl. "Show the way, then. Will there be anypony bringing breakfast up in the mornings, or was Marble being serious about that whole... 'living as a normal pony'... thing?"
Octavia edges away toward the kitchen. She doesn't wait for Blueblood's answer. "I'll put on the tea." She is anxious to leave Vinyl to Blueblood's tender mercies and escape with her own fur in tact.
Vinyl_Scratch looks almost incredulous that Octavia is leaving her alone with... that! Her eyes momentarily look over Blueblood. He's not all that handsome, really. His muzzle is a little too large. And he smells a bit weird, like a mix of dust and vanilla. Apparently Canterlot stallions like dust and vanilla cologne. Vinyl trots upstairs, down the hallway and to the guest room, the largest she could find. It is decorated pristinely thanks to Vinyl's creativity and Marble's excessive cleaning. "Ta dah."
Blueblood takes another look around the room. He trots inside, inspecting every corner, and wipes his hoof over the tops of the dressers. He fluffs the pillows, throws himself across the bed to check for maximum snugglebility of the blankets, and turns on and off every light in the room. He stamps on the carpet to make sure it's comfy to his immaculate hooves. Then he turns to Vinyl and twitches his nose. "It's barely passable," he declares. "Whoever designed this place has absolutely *no* eye for interior decorating."
Octavia heads out to the kitchen table, and sets out a tea set. The fine china, of course. She delicately arranges all the cups and saucers just so, along with a plate of sugar cookies and the tea pot a bowl of sugar cubes with silver tongs, and a creamer, all set delicately in the center of the table. She spends a few moments gently tweaking the locations this way and that for maximum symetry, and takes a seat. She waits for at least one of them to return downstairs before disturbing the carefully laid out tea set, and having herself a sip.
Vinyl_Scratch waits by the door as Blueblood reviews the room, and looks almost... hurt at his critique. She straightens, ears folding against her head. "We designed it, you know. Our family. We designed this place so it could be filled with love and happiness and laughter. Maybe that's why the Princesses sent you here." Vinyl shrugs gently. "You get unpacked, I'll be downstairs." She turns and trots down to meet Octavia, sitting herself down at the table next to her friend. "How long you reckon until one of us cracks up?"
Octavia says "Speak for yourself, Vinyl. I'll be locking myself in the basement for the duration. Thank Celestia at least that he won't be living with us forever." She's already pouring Vinyl's tea cup. "One lump or two? And before you go looking, I've locked up the irish cream. A perfectly good way to ruin a cup of tea, that is."
Vinyl_Scratch says "Oh, I don't need Irish cream. More like... whisky. Vodka. Something that'll keep me unconscious until he leaves."
Vinyl_Scratch headtables. "Just... keep him away from the foals."
Blueblood blinks at Vinyl's reprimand. He coughs and looks around, actually having the dignity to look embarrased. "Oh," is all he can say. Is it really *his* fault that everypony outside of Canterlot designs their *own* rooms? He thought they got a contractor like a normal family. He decides to poke around upstairs, rearranging a few things to liking. Then he unpacks his belongings, starting of course with an 8x10 glossy of himself that he puts on the bedside table. "Don't worry handsome. This nightmare will be over soon," he tells himself.
Octavia puts three sugar cubes in Vinyl's drink, and pats her shoulder with a look of reassurance. "It's not all that bad. I'm certain that... that I will think of some silver lining, and let you know."
( The silver lining is that Blueblood is here! They should be happy about that. Blueblood comes back downstairs when he hears Vinyl leave the room, and his face just *beams* at the sight of some good old fashioned tea. "Oh, thank goodness!" he says, picking up the pot, probably just before Octavia is about to get a refill of her own. He adds three sugar cubes and slurps. He slurps very, very loudly. "How did you know I wanted tea?" he asks Octavia, because of course the only reason tea could be here is for him to enjoy it. )
In this case, it's true. "A proper host always offers her guests tea. I only regret that it wouldn't be the kind of tea of which you're accustom," says Octavia.
( Sluuuuuuuuurp. "Well, it *isn't*," he huffs. "But I suppose for a, um... common pony's drink it isn't gutwrenching." He peers at Octavia over the rim of his cup. "You seem like a pony of sophistication. However did you end up in a place like *this?* Let alone the house of Vinyl Scratch. Whomakestheworstmusicever," he adds under his breath. )
With a great scream and a cacophany, Marble crashes right into his kitchen through the window and lands headfirst on one of the empty chairs at the dining table.
Octavia tries diligently to maintain her polite smile while her favorite tea is so rejected. "I would be happy to find a finer blend for tomorrow, if you'd like." She hmms? "Well it's very kind of you to say, but I very much enjoy living with Vinyl. She can be somewhat... unrefined, but we're good friends." Octavia nearly falls off her chair at the sudden appearance of her landlord!
Blueblood slowly turns to regard Marble as he smashes into his own house. "I thought you were trying to teach me to be *more* socially competent," he deadpans. "Unless you throw away all regard for decorum the moment you cross the castle threshold?" Clearly he is enjoying this moment of superiority over the tyrannical Artifact Keeper.
Marble of course doesn't mention he was probably fleeing from some pollen dust or somethign equally ridiculous. It takes a little while before Marble, dishevelled and messy, sits upright at his table. "... I'm home." He says calmly.
Octavia pours Marble his spot of tea.
"I can see that," Blueblood sniffs, setting down his tea. "Now then. I presume that we have an itinerary of some kind to follow while we're here? If we're going to do this we might as well do it right."
Marble sips his tea and, likely to Blueblood's horror, turns to her and says, "Oh, you broke out your Imperial Blend, I see. I hear Celestia herself drinks this." Marble almost feels like high society just drinking it. "Has he broken anything?" Marble says, watching Blueblood warily.
"Hm? Well, we are entertaining royalty, Marble," says Octavia. She shakes her head at the question, too.
Blueblood glances at the tea and gives it a sniff. Well, it doesn't *smell* like Imperial Blend. "Of *course* I haven't broken anything!" he gasps, offended at the very notion. "I am a picture of elegance and good manners. You should *know* that by now, Marble."
"Well good." Marble says, sipping and sighing. Yeah, this is really good tea. "For today, you're socializing. You've already pretty much met all of Ponyville's bourgeois." Marble sips more of the tea, "But, you really need to meet the SOUL of Ponyville. The real applie pie of it, if you will. Incidentally this town WAS founded by apple farmers..."
Octavia watches carefully to make sure everypony is using their saucers, and not putting their cups down on the table. Heaven forbid if they make a little ring of tea stain. "Oh? Is that why you're moving in?"
"Moving in? *Please*," Blueblood scoffs. "I wouldn't think of living here even if-..." He bites his tongue, trying to think of a more... *diplomatic* way of putting it. It's the only thing that'll get him out of here. "Well, that is, no. I'm not going to live here. Just being... coached. Purely because the Princesses asked it of me and I am so eager to please them of course. Did you say apple *farmers?*" he asks, leaning over to Marble and sticking his tongue out. They're going where there's *dirt* now? How much must he suffer?!
"Yes, apple farmers. We're home to Sweet Apple Acres... which is probably the best place in Equestria for apples. The holder of the Element of Honesty tends to run things there... though her siblings are both... well, one is strong enough to move houses, apparently and the youngest one... well, let's just say Ponyville is home to an airship." Marble says in a bit of a disturbed tone.
Octavia widens her eyes at the juvenile tonuge sticking. She stands up, sets her tea and saucer on her back, and says, curtly, "Please excuse me, Marble, your excellence, I'm afraid I'm feeling a touch ill," before heading off to her basement. She has her limits.
( Blueblood's head turns to follow Octavia, his tongue still poking out between his lips.Look at it, Octavia. It's forcing you to look at it. "I *knew* there was something wrong with the tea," he mutters to himself. "Did you say... *airship?*" he asks Marble. "I know I didn't see a hangar when I came here." )
Octavia is far too polite not to lie to Marble's face. "Whatever do you mean? I'm not bothered."
Blueblood doesn't know what brought this sudden change in subject, but he's pretty sure he was just insulted. "Hold on! What do you mean 'just' Blueblood?" he squawks indignantly. "Did I not come all the way down here deigning this town noble enough to hold the sheer wonder of my presence? Did I not sit here and sip this tea even though it has so clearly made that poor mare ill? What are you both *on* about?"
( "I don't know if you didn't notice yet, Blueblood..." Marble says, walking over to comfort Octavia. Then he turns around. "Can you count any Ponyvillians who have been impressed with you 'gracing' them with your presence over genuinely JOINING them here in Ponyville? Your arrogance leads you to miss the point of all this. Again." )
Octavia adjusts her bow tie with a little sigh. "I suppose I'm feeling well enough to clean up." She takes away the china, assuming they're done with it.
Blueblood's eyes roll so far back they almost disappear underneath his eyeslids. "Umm..." Oh, wait, wait, he's got this. "There was, um... well... streets! Full of them!" He gestures wildly. "They were so impressed with me they were making sure to move as far away as they could when I walked by. Clearly they were aware that giving a royal his space is just good manners!" He blinks and leans forward, biting his lip. "That... that was a good thing, right?"
MArble sighs... "Oh boy... see, here's the thing, Blueblood. And I have to tell you this in the hope you'll listen and improve, since, somehow, I *still* believe in you..." Marble clears his throat. "Nopony likes you. This is a problem, because you have a lot of traits that could make you an *excellent* prince. Except you seem to go under the misconception that being prince is about making ponies think you're superior. This results in you basically being a prince of... well... nothing."
Oh dear. This is getting even more awkward than before, thinks Octavia. She starts heading off to the kitchen with the tea set on her back.
Blueblood blinks at Marble, his forelegs all curled up so adorably over his studly chest. He blinks again. There is a long, long moment of silence as gears seem to be turning inside of Blueblood's head. Slowly. Slowly. Click. "That's ridiculous!" he barks. "A prince of nothing?! How dare you! I am a scion of House Blueblood, fifty-first in my line! I am a nephew of *alicorns!* I didn't come all the way out here to be insulted. I did this of my own free will because I thought you were here to *help* me!" He jumps up from his chair. "I see where that got me. I'll go it alone then!" He stomps to the door and flings it open with his magic. "I *know* somepony out there likes me. And if they don't like me then I'll just show them how great I am! You'll see!"
Marble walks over to the door, looking unimpressed. He doesn't close the door, but he does ask a rather pertinent question. "You don't have any idea how you're going to do that, do you?" Marble is silent a moment, before continuing. "I *am* helping you. But I can't help you by babying you and outright lying about your situation. You want my help, I'll help you. You don't also fine, but I think you'll soon find what you think of as 'helping' isn't really helping anything at all. It's not your presence they need, prince. It's your *service.*"
Octavia peeks out the door from behind Marble with a look of pity on her muzzle.
"Service?" Blueblood says, hushed for a moment. His eyes do that rolly thing where they almost go back into his head. It almost looks like he's about to relent. But this is Blueblood we're talking about. "Of course! SERVICE!" he says, and gently pushes Marble out of the way. "Thank you for that wonderful idea, Marble. I'll go out there and serve. You said there was an apple orchard nearby? Well, I'll just go there and *serve.* I have *no* need of your services anymore, Marble. Good *bye.*" Click goes the door. Blueblood stands around a moment outside to see if they'll pity him and run after him. He doesn't *really* want to go where there's dirt, but it's better than being insulted.
( Marble rolls his eyes and trots over to Octavia. "He'll learn, but I think he'll probably have to experience what's really going on about him first-hoof. I figure a debacle at Sweet Apple Acres might actually be a good start, though I suppose somepony should keep an eye on him so he doesn't ruin anything..." )
Oh, really? So they *aren't* going to rush after him and throw themselves at his hooves and beg forgiveness and say oh what a wonderful Prince he is we were so wrong about you? Even after all that?! What does it TAKE in this town? Blueblood harumpfs grandly and sticks his nose in the air, stalking off through the streets of Ponyville. If they don't believe, then he will show them. He said it before and he'll say it again: They'll see. They'll ALL see!
"He'll be back. I have his manebrush. And his cologne. And I still control his finances." Marble says simply. "The princesses are really hoping I can make him at least somewhat of a decent pony. The hard part, it seems, probably isn't getting him to do something good, it's getting through his thick skull seems to be the problem."