The Game for a Pony
”And can you just believe what he said then?”
”Something utterly horrid, I venture?” answers Rarity as she takes another sip of her glass.
”Worse than you can imagine: He dared to propose that I should wear that green dress he bought me on our last anniversary!” says the dark-blue unicorn mare, waving her own champagne in exaggeration.
It's a wonder she can get any of the liquid into her mouth, the way she drinks, thinks Rarity and weaves a sincerely painful look on her face. ”Oh? Doesn’t sound that awful, does it?”
The other mare rolls her dark eyes. “You’re right; the horror of it is indescribable. The dress is almost size and a half too big for me! He might as well throw a tent on top me and be done with it.”
”Oh, don't take it too personally, my dear. Stallions can be like that, even after... Uhm, how many years you said you have been together?”
”Six. No, five: It was with my first husband that I spent the extra year with. And what a wasted year that was, let me tell you...” The mare takes a sip before continuing with another story, and Rarity seizes her opening like her life depended on it.
”But you did already, did you not? It was the year you spent travelling all over Equestria?
”More like the year I was dragged all over Equestria. You just cannot believe the places he made me go through in his lust for 'adventure and fresh air.' There was this one village I remember particularly well: Ponyville.” A theatrical shudder travels through the mare's spine. “The bare name of it still gives me the creeps.”
”Uhm, quite... In any case, misses Whinefeld, I absolutely, definitely, and without doubt must be on my way now. It has been a true pleasure talking with you through the evening, but I am bound by a contract to work all tomorrow in the— ”
” —in that theatre, yes, you told me that already, dear. But you cannot be on your way already, not when I'm about to get to the heart of the matter of – ”
” —I can quite vividly imagine the horrors you experienced during your stay in that village of Ponyville, I most definitely can,” says Rarity with the slightest chill on her tone. ”Alas, duty calls.” With that, she turns to leave, but Whinefed's answer stops her like a leash.
”Oh, but I wasn’t about to recall the nightmares which that backward little camp imprinted on me, oh no. I meant to bring into your attention that treat of a stallion who has been glancing at you the whole evening.”
The older mare's conspiratory tone makes cold shivers travel through Rarity's neck. For a moment she hesitates, but finally turns slowly around to meet the smug face of Whinefeld. ”Come again?” asks Rarity.
The blue mare sips her drink as it was the last thing she was about to do in her life. Rarity can practically taste the excitement that the situation is causing to the mare who has for the whole evening tormented her with stories of her life.
”Look at you, now! Curious as a cat. Seems that I finally managed to pull the right string to get your attention.”
”I am not sure that I follow you...”
”Oh, don't play dim with me. I get enough of that from my husband.”
”Now you have lost me completely.” Annoyance fights against manners in Rarity's voice, but so far the latter holds the higher ground.
Whinefeld gives a deep sigh. ”Don't tell me you think that I stole you for this evening only to recount the disasters of my marriage life? Who you take me for? As a bitter old hag who has nothing better to do but to annoy ponies with her sour stories?”
Well, you did play the part like you were born to it. ”Perhaps the idea crossed my mind... But why did you wish to chat with me then?”
”Why, to get to know you, of course. It's not that often that my old bones get to rattle in a company of a famous design artist.”
Rarity’s eyes go wide. “So you do know who I am!”
The mare snorts amusedly. “Of course I do! One doesn't get invited to a party like this without recognising the name Rarity.”
“What sort of a game is this?”
Blufeld raises an eyebrow. “Why, it’s all a game, dear. Or do they not appreciate any form of subtlety in Ponyville?”
“Subtlety…” mumbles Rarity under her breath. “I’ve had enough of this. Good night to you.” This time she doesn’t stop when the older mare calls after her. Instead, she walks straight to the great balcony, which is the shortest way outside of the flat. She doesn’t even stop to admire the lights of the city, even though they blossom like ecotic flowrs against the dark velvet of the night. Small groups of well dressed ponies laugh around her, glance at her when she passes by them, but she keeps her focus on the other side of the massive balcony where an exit lies. She even knew I was from Ponyville, and still saw it fit to bark at it! Manners surely must be expensive in this city if even she can’t afford them. And the games she spoke of? What on Earth was she talking about?
As her thoughts boil in between her beautiful temples, the marble-white pony fails to notice the sound of hoofsteps that approach her from behind. She flinches a bit when a hoof taps her on the shoulder. Her neck darts to the left, and her eyes go wide.
“Good evening, Rarity.” His voice is like a pillow one could accidently suffocate in.
“Uh… Good evening to you, too. Have we… met before?” Rarity blinks the awe away form her eyes in the middle of her sentence, and soon finds her usual elegant look.
“We haven’t, although we were meant to.” The bright blue eyes of the stallion study Rarity with keen care. “I was supposed to hoof over to you the prize of the fashion show you won earlier today. Congratulations.”
“I see… I’m terribly sorry I didn’t make it there; I was misinformed of the situation. I sincerely hope you weren’t offended?”
“How could I be? It would take a madpony to be angry at a jewel such as you.”
A short and girlish laugh escapes Rarity before she can stifle it. “Sorry, sorry! I just, uhm… That was a very nice thing to say!” Rarity, stop. Just stop it. You’re only making this worse for yourself. Pull your act together, girl! He is not the first stallion that tries to get into your room with sugar-coated words. Although his coat is finer white than any sugar…. And probably tastes as sweet, too…
“Please, forgive my tongue. It can be such a devil sometimes.”
“Aha.” Rarity’s tail brushes idly the cold marble floor. “And who exactly is responsible for that tongue, if I may enquire?”
“Bronzheim, at your service.” He smiles the cutest smile Rarity has seen on a stallion.
“Wait… you don’t mean… the actor Bronzheim?” she says, almost whispers.
“The same. I prefer to use my artist name even when I’m off the stage. Helps me secure my privacy.”
“Of course; I can only imagine what the fans try to do to know your real name. I mean, you are simply the greatest, most brilliant, most dedicated—”
“Eh, miss Rarity? Please, you are drawing attention…” The stallion glances nervously around him.
“Right right right. Of course.” Rarity draws a lungful of air, and blows it slowly out. “Now, where were we? You were about to slip me an autograph? Or a dozen?”
“Quite. I was about to make a similar proposal myself.” The stallion straightens his bow tie, still looking around himself. “Could I suggest that we move ourselves into some more… private space? I’d love to continue this conversation in peace, and it feels that your outburst has alerted some other ponies of my existence here.”
Rarity can hardly keep the grin out her lips as she says with her most discreet tone: “Absolutely. I know just the place we can carry on without disturbance. Do follow me, mister Bronzheim…”
The two ponies quickly leave the scene with the mumble of the crowd around growing by the minute with whispers and questions. “Was it really him?” “Where did he go?” With whom did he go?” The air shimmers with anticipation for a moment, but quiets down as suddenly as it stirred up. Leaning against the rail, a dark-blue mare sips her drink and watches the two ponies quietly leave the scene. She is smiling over her drink.
“I’m genuinely surprised that Bronzheim actually left with that mare,” says another old mare next to Whinefeld. “I thought he was—”
“—not into mares?” finishes the blue mare. “He isn’t. And that was what I didn’t have time to tell Rarity. Youngs these days; no sense of the game. I’m afraid she will make a terrible fool of herself, trying to seduce him.”
“The game?”
Whinefeld rolls her eyes, and waves her glass. “The game! You know what I’m talking about. Bronzheim asked me to test the ice called Rarity, and give him some information about her. That’s how you play the game; by playing the gamers.” She sips her drink again. “Too bad she didn’t leave him time to prepare appropriately for the meeting.”
“But why would Bronzheim want to get under Rarity’s skin? Not literally, like you said…”
“Who knows? The ‘why?’ is not part of the game. It never was. Only the ‘how?’ is.”
The other mare chews her lip for a while. “I don’t get it.”
Winefield sighs deeply. “Just drink you champagne, dear.”