I have no idea what to call this

Twilight trotted towards Icarus and showed him the exit, to which he replied, “I remember the exit just fine,” in a playful manner.

Twilight thought to herself, ‘Are Thracians this relaxed and friendly? Usually, foreigners are more guarded than what he is exhibiting. Those camels from Dromedaria were surely refraining from even looking at the pony visitors. Heck, even Canterlot denizens look down on Ponyville folk.’

But she shook her suspicions out of her head as two earth ponies approached them, one carrying a bale of hay and the other carrying two tubs of milk. The one carrying the milk was a large stocky crimson stallion with a tan mane and green eyes. His cutie mark was half an apple, and he wore a large yoke. The other one, who was carrying the bale of hay, was a mare, smaller than the first pony, freckled and tan with a sunny gold mane of hair, tied up and covered by a seasoned ten-gallon Stetson, and just as strong as her company. She sported a cutie mark of three shiny red apples.

“If it isn’t the Apple family doing their morning chores,” Twilight said. “I see that Apple Bloom isn’t with you.” The red stallion nodded.

“Yeah, sugarcube.” The tan mare said. “She scurried on her way when Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle passed by, on their way to school.” The two farmers turned their attention to Icarus.

“Nice to meet the members of the Apple Family,” Icarus started off, talking to the tan mare. “You must be--”

“Applejack, kind sir, owner an’ proprietor of Sweet Apple Acres, best darn apples in the whole of Equestria!” She said in one breath as she tipped her Stetson. “This here is mah big brother, Big Macintosh! He’s the family’s silent draft horse.”

“Eeyup.” Said the large stallion, affirming his sister’s introduction.

“Okay, these apples might be worth a try.” Icarus pondered. “Mind if I ask, Applejack, but is Apple Bloom your daughter?”

The southern belle immediately turned red, as red as her brother’s fur coat. “NO SHE AIN’T!” Twilight interrupted Applejack’s flustered rage and said, “Apple Bloom is Applejack’s little sister.” Applejack turned to Icarus and said, “Aww yeah? Who in ‘tarnation are ‘ya anyway?”

Icarus hoofed his face, in realization of forgetting to introduce himself. “That’s what I forgot. Stupid Irkutsk name tags and getting used to them…Icarus is me ‘in ‘tarnation’. I am from the Federation of Thrace.” He said with a sheepish smile. “Pardon for the assumption. In Thrace, siblings about at least as large as you and Apple Bloom in terms of age gaps is very, very rare. And it always means that there are a lot of them in between.” He tapped his snout for a moment. “Like, say Applejack, there are usually two or three others between one as old as you and one as old as Apple Bloom.”

Applejack’s jaw dropped. “Wait just an applebuckin’ sec.” She said as she shook her head. “Y’all said ya were from Thrace?” Icarus nodded. “Then what was up with this here group?” She said, pulling out a newspaper from her saddlebag. It contained the picture of the Flim Flam brothers and their machine, Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000.

“Oh Maverick, not those two.” Icarus said. “They tried to scam the entire Northeast coast of Thrace, but they're Equestrian descent, as with their teeth not being sharp," He flashed his teeth, proving Thracians had sharp teeth, "where, the bulk of the Thracian apples are grown.” He pulled out a torn page that had the picture of seed packets. “These were bad seeds apparently, and they were selling them under the premise that they were miracle seeds.” Icarus pulled out another torn page, and look surprised. “Your relative, I presume?”

Applejack took the torn page and looked at the photo of a farmer earth pony in the midst of throwing the bad seeds away and exposing the game of the Flim Flam brothers. “Local farmer exposes sham seeds, seed peddlers ran out of the city proper.” She said, reading the headline. The photo showed a farmer earth pony with a bright red apple on his flank.

“Darn tootin’, this be mah uncle, Red Delicious Sr.” Applejack exclaimed. “See that hat? He gave that to mah Pa when he was still a colt, and then” she tipped her Stetson again. “Just how old are ya, ya mystery colt you?”

Before Icarus could answer, a loud shriek came from the direction Big Macintosh was facing. “Aw, crud.” Said his sister. “It’s her.”

A marble white unicorn with vibrant violet hair styled in a mane and tail that only proud ladies would wear, and a cutie mark of three sapphire gems that match her own sapphire eyes, was approaching the group.

“What in Equestria are YOU wearing?” she asked. Icarus sheepishly replied, “It’s my traveling cloak. See, it’s got my journal, my pen, my--”

“This simply CANNOT do!” she said, interrupting the Thracian. Twilight, attempted to ask the Westerner “What’s a pen?” Icarus, however, leaned closer to Applejack and asked in a whisper, “Now who is she?”

Applejack interpreted Icarus’s question as a prospect for asking the white unicorn out. “Now, that be Rarity, the most ladylike of all them mares in Ponyville. And it’d be a huge controversy if she’s seen with a stranger like what y’all are.”

“So…” Icarus said, turning to the white unicorn who was taking his measurements. “Who might you be?”

“My name is Rarity, and I am a lady.” She replied coldly. “And please take your cloak off.”

Icarus unlatched the buttons and unfurled his wings, taking the cloak off. “So, the name’s Icarus. And are you free this Friday?”

“And why would a—OH MY GOODNESS THOSE ARE ENORMOUS WINGS.” Said the unicorn as her jaw dropped slightly at the sight of Icarus’ wings.

“Now I just want a dear lady such as you to,” Icarus said as he tapped his hoof on his chin momentarily. “I don’t know… show a lowly Thracian wanderer such as me around this lovely forestside town?”

Rarity looked at the gray pegasus with a deadpan look. “Really now? That’s all you got?”

“Too bad,” Icarus answered. “And I was going to tell you about the beautiful treasures of Thrace we uncovered in the westward parts of the nation…”

“Now I’m listening,” Rarity said. “Be at the Carousel Boutique, Friday, at four.”

”Worked like a charm. Why am I so crafty?” he thought.