Beauty Like Yours Is A Rarity

Rarity

Rarity slowly trudges through the dimly lit Boutique, wet mane wrapped up in a fluffy pink towel. She stifles a yawn with her hoof as she dries off slowly from her shower. A magic-powered blow dryer idly chases her, whirring softly as it exudes a jet of warmth. It's encased in a blue glow and carefully avoids the face mask smeared over her snout and under her eyes.

A familiar and unwelcome warmth rises in her chest. Quietly, she groans to herself in self-reproach. In her tense, frantic worry to find somepony to help preserve her promise, (and not oust herself as a liar,) she'd forgotten to track the start of her heat.

One couldn't always avoid it aligning with something significant. In this case, the Canterlot Event will kick off just within the start of her season. It won't be fun, at all, but she can manage. She doesn't lack for means to stifle it such as herbal remedies from Zecora, supplements to help mute it from Nurse Redheart, and... taking care of it herself.

The sun has barely risen, only the faintest cracks of light starting to worm their way through her curtains. Such was the norm for Rarity; ever the studious workmare, tackling the early morning is something she'd done for years. Rarity rises early, works hard, and returns to bed early. Sure, it may not be exactly the best routine for her social life; but she can have one of those later. She has a fastidious morning routine, after all; being the most beautiful mare in Ponyville does not come easy, and she has no plans to relinquish the self-imposed title.

She meanders into the kitchen, stifling a second, fiercer yawn, mumbling 'Oh, Goodness' to herself afterward, as she mulls over the question of breakfast. An important meal, and one she should partake in quickly and effectively; perhaps a bagel, or something else simple...

She has some time before Anon is to arrive. Knowing him and his penchant for taking life simply, he won't be around until late morning, perhaps even noon at the earliest, if she is lucky--

Knock knock knock.

She goes still as she hears the muffled announcement of a caller at the Boutique door, her yet-to-be-eyelined eyes wide. The solitary morning hour of the Boutique has been shattered and her blow dryer clicks off. Who could that be? She didn't have any pony scheduled for fittings or work to be done until after the whole Canterlot ordeal. No events are occurring in Ponyville... no holidays or public get-togethers for another few weeks, at least. The only ponies regularly up and about this early are the Apples.

Rarity quietly slinks to the front door of the Boutique, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, softly clearing her throat. Goodness, she could use a coffee. She unlatches the lock with her magic, cracking the door open ever so slightly.

"Apologizes, but the Boutique isn't open at this..." She begins to speak, her polite business voice meticulously unstrained with how drowsy she still feels. It promptly trails off as she peers through the crack -- eyes slowly trailing up once they espy legs. Familiar, shorts-bound bipedal legs, and not a pony's face.

She stares up at Anon, blinking several times. He's dressed like he always is, as if he were plucked from yesterday and dropped directly in front of her now, just in an alternate color. Dressed, awake -- did he smell of Honeysuckle? Was he holding a pair of coffees?

"Morning, Rarity. Did uh... I lean a little hard on the 'Early' part? Sorry, just got up at my usual." He chuckles.

"EEP!" Rarity squeaks, the door slamming shut in his face. She presses up against the back of the door, eyes wide in panic. She wasn't ready to see ANYPONY yet, least of all HIM. Oh, buck... she can't just send him away, though -- she had been the one to ask him to come here, and that would be the rudest thing. Drat it all -- she'll have to rush her morning routine, as much as she despises doing such. Beauty is a meticulous thing of care, attention, and craftsponyship, meant to be addressed as the serious and vital thing it is. Though... she has done some of her best work on the rush. Perhaps she --

"Everything alright?" Rarity hears from the other side of the door. She hadn't even dried off enough yet to START THINKING about her foundation.

Anon

Anon blinks a few times, waiting. Was this not bright and early? He squints over the horizon of Ponyville, at the slowly rising sun, just barely peeking over the edges of the houses. If it wasn't? Damn. What a hardworking woman, that Rarity.

His head turns back as the door to the Boutique slowly cracks open again, barely a smidge now, Rarity completely hidden behind the door.

"Y-yes, darling, this is bright and early! I just didn't expect you so... well, early!" He hears, slightly muffled.

Rarity

On one hoof, she absolutely abhors that he was witnessing her before she was even on the first step towards being presentable. Her mane and fur were still damp, she had her face mask on, her eyelashes weren't in, and she didn't have so much as a hint of makeup; by all accounts she was HIDEOUS. What she wants to do, and what she should do, is shriek, slam the door, quickly panic... well, already got those done -- and throw everything on in a stressful mash, then re-open the door as if nothing happened. The only times she'd ever been caught like this were by Twilight and Applejack. (One of whom doesn't go to bed until daylight half the time, and one who rises so early as to shame the sun.) Both had commented on her morning appearance; both had given her reason to never be caught unawares by judgmental observers again.

On the other hoof, she did say bright and early, without clarifying deeper, after asking for his help. And here he was. And he just smiles at her, waiting patiently.

Hang on a moment...

"...Pardon, but, your usual?" Rarity repeats, incredulous. The door cracks open ever so slightly more, Rarity peering out at him with a single, inquisitive bright-blue eye.

Anon

Huh, so she wore fake lashes.

Rarity

"You always get up at this time? I'm having trouble believing it, if you'll forgive me for saying so. I've never seen you roaming Ponyville this early." She insists, watching him curiously.

"Well duh. I'm at the lake before most ponies are ever up. Only pony I ever see this early is Applejack. Fish are real active right around now. Same in the late evenings; though I prefer getting up early to staying up late." Anon shrugs. He does live on the edge of town. He wouldn't need to cut through Ponyville just to head to his "usual".

Rarity purses her lips before her gaze locks on what's in his hooves--er, hands. The two coffee cups. Two. Not one. Two.
"Hold on a minute, darling. One of those wouldn't happen to be for a certain lady, would it?" Rarity questions, tone softening and mood improving. The sudden situation has prodded her awake faster than coffee ever could; but that doesn't mean a fresh cup would be unwelcome. The door opens just enough for an unpainted hoof to point towards the two cups of coffee, one in each hand, before it retreats, the the door closes ever so slightly again.

"Huh? Yeah, Sweetie Belle told me what kind of coffee you like." He didn't buy brewed coffee, so he wasn't familiar with the whole ordering process. He either brewed his own or got a treat instead; his cup was actually filled with hot chocolate. He takes a comfortable sip. "The uh... Hazelnut Low-Fat... Skim... swear I had the proper name when I was in line at Hoofbucks."

"...That's very sweet of you, Anon, but I'm not... erh. Decent, shall we say?"

"Want the coffee and I'll come back later?" Anon offers, shrugging.

Rarity huffs to herself. That was... nice of him. Coffee. Willing to arrive early as asked. Willing to wait.

Oh, enough of it, Rarity -- you asked the fellow to come over bright and early, and he did. You asked him to help you with your soiree and to pretend to be your partner. Seeing you before you've finished your morning prep... Well, he's probably going to see far more of you while you're at your less-than-best through this whole ordeal.

It's a long moment of consideration. Even now, Anon just stands there, waiting patiently, sipping his own beverage.

Oh, for Celestia's sake. Just get him in here.

"You wouldn't mind? I don't want to just... chase you away after asking you to come by. Oh... forgive my language, darling, but buck it. Get inside, before someone sees and rumors start to swirl. You know how this town gets." Rarity proclaims, steeling her nerves, and opening the door.

Anon obligingly ducks inside, and the door is promptly slammed shut behind him.

He's never seen the Boutique with so few lights on; the open main floor is lit only by a single sconce, sunlight barely filtering in past the hefty curtains.

Rarity trots a few feet back from the door, turning to face him. Her mane is swirled up in a big blue towel, a single loose bang peeking below it. A blow dryer floats, waiting, in her magic and her exposed fur is noticeably still fairly damp, likely only just out of the bath. Her face is plastered with a lime-green 'mask' of whatever facial treatment she employs, and her tail lacks its iconic bouncy curl.

"Well; soak it in, darling. Get the jokes out of the way." She huffs expectantly, standing as if she's presenting herself to him, chest puffed. Combating embarrassment with confrontation?

To Rarity, this was something embarrassing that she only dared expose about herself because the upcoming Event simply meant THAT much to her. Other than the Spa sisters, nopony else in town put near as much effort into their self-care; the odd time she'd been spotted mid-routine, she'd been the target of mild ridicule. She fully expected the same here.

Anon

Anon blinks. Jokes?

In front of him is Rarity. She just got out of the shower, probably, so she was still wet. Had her hair in a towel, and was in the middle of doing her morning preparations.

Her appearance was pretty important to her. Was she... embarrassed? She was kind of the only pony that put this much effort into her looks, around here. No other pony was dragging around lounge chairs to dramatically sprawl on them.

"...I think out of all the skincare products I've tried, I remember preferring the... I think it was an agave face cream? Dunno if you guys have that plant." Anon clicks his tongue, face scrunching as he tries to remember. "Grew up with sisters, so I've been subjected to a few beauty sessions. Anyway -- You want me to set your coffee down somewhere for you?"

Rarity

Rarity stares back, blinking slowly. That was the last thing she'd expected to be uttered by the man. Hide and fur care products were something she could talk to almost nopony else about. Applejack? Rarity had enough trouble getting her to brush her hooves before coming inside. Rainbow Dash? Never heard the words. Pinkie Pie? All natural, and one of the few things Rarity was jealous about. Twilight? Honestly, she could use a good education on the subject but it was outside her area of research. Fluttershy? The minimal; her focus was all about manecare only. Rarity's only outlet was on the monthly spa day she only just managed to drag Applejack to, when she could chat with the Spa sisters.

"Uh... on the table, if you wouldn't mind, dear." She answers quietly. She half expects him to crack a smirk or something the moment he's past her; nothing. He just sits her cup down, turns and faces her.

"Ooh--mind if I hog a lounge chair? They look seriously comfortable." He asks simply, leaning to peek past her -- like he wasn't already tall enough to just look straight over her. "Y'know, while you do your thing."

"Uh...huh." Rarity mumbles. Her brain is currently trying to process the radical change to the mental description she'd assigned to the man. The man who now politely stood in her Boutique, at her request, offering her a coffee, and offering no judgment.

As he sits, relaxing on one of her waiting-area chairs, his own drink in hand; he pulls out that odd little box he claims is a phone, and starts poking at it.
"Take your time; I know how long that kind of stuff can take. I cleared my schedule, so the worst that'll happen is you might have to wake me from a nap if you take extra long," Anon says aloud, not glancing over. He's playing some kind of... game where a little board bounces a ball between bricks, the phone making little bloops and blaps every few moments.

"...Of course. Thank you, Anon, I'll... be just a few minutes." Rarity replies, slowly shuffling back towards the stairs to resume her morning preparations.

Throughout the next half hour of her prep, every several minutes, she peeks through the open doorway of the staircase, staring at Anon.

He's still there, patiently and quietly waiting, engrossed with his phone, glancing around the Boutique; at one point, she even sees him inspecting one of the in-progress dresses hanging on one of her stands. From a polite distance. Without touching.

She may have had his type allotted entirely incorrectly. It's not as though they had done much more than chat for a few moments... In point of fact, she didn't know him nearly as well as she previously assumed. Written off as a simple, lazy creature.

And now he's napping, snoring on her couch, contorted into a comical position. Well, the lazy part might still be true, but she didn't think quite so low of him for it, now. She appreciates not having to be rushed through her usual; she liked to wake up so early so she could give it time to do it right.

Eventually, a much more publicly recognizable Rarity emerges from the second floor; her richly purple mane and tail have their familiar curved bounce, and her stainless coat is as soft as can be. Her hooves are freshly painted and trotting down and cross to the coffee Anon had left for her. Almost cold, now, but no matter; she'll warm it up in a few moments.

She considers waking him up... but she doesn't need him quite yet. In fact, it presents her the opportunity to counter-gift; she could prepare him a light breakfast in the meantime, lay out the preliminary articles he's to wear, and then finally wake him up for measurements. Simple.

Resolute and more confident in her plans, Rarity steps to it.

The coffee, poured into a pot, is set on the stove to warm up a bit, as Rarity sets about preparing the Boutique for the day's work. Her task at hoof: to transform the strange, furless alien snoring on her couch into an exotic appeal. One to leave all the Nobles clamoring and wowed.

Lights flick on as her tools float through the shop to her workstation, wisping and twirling with her magic. An old, unfinished project is pulled out of a tucked-away box, followed by several bolts of fabric.

Anon is male, so she will lean on Stallion fashion for her original plans. Something simple, something clean, something that will not contrast too sharply against his unusual features. Something that will bring a recognizable style to the wary eyes of Canterlot's nobility. Shortly, she settles on formalwear. Specifically, a Tuxedo. A coat, a vest, a dress shirt, slacks, a bow tie; and urgently, some more fitting hoof--footwear than... those disgraceful sandals. That article may be a daunting task, considering the oddness of his appendage compared to more familiar hooves.

Only once Rarity has everything set up and ready does she float her coffee from the kitchen. Hot once again, the coffee leaves her sighing deeply in contentment.

Mental checklist time, you vibrant specimen, you, Rarity hums to herself. Miss Rarity? Stunning. Anon's Suit? Awaiting. Reheated Coffee? Sipped.

She was ready. With her head held high, it was time to work.

She finally trots over to the couch, nudging the snoring Anon's side with her hoof several times. As expected, it takes a fair amount of nudging to stir him. The way he's contorted, body twisted about and limbs sticking out at odd angles, leaves her confused as to how in the world he could possibly be comfortable.

"Schn-huh?" Anon eventually snorts, neck cranked to awkwardly look over his shoulder. "Oh. Hi Rarity," he mumbles through a yawn.

"Hello, darling. Your patience, and the coffee, are deeply appreciated. Ready to be measured?" She hums, waggling her mane with a dramatic hair flip.

Anon

There's the Rarity he recognizes.

With a grunt, Anon slowly kilters off the couch, straightening out and squeezing in a quick stretch. Under Rarity's direct guidance, he meanders up onto the pedestal, as several tools rise to float around him; measuring tapes, pins, scissors, and the half-finished pieces of what looks like a Tuxedo. He even catches a peek of his own finished cup being chucked across the room, into a very decorated bin.

"Now, I need you to..." Rarity starts to hum; she taps her chin with a hoof, trying to realize what she's envisioning.

"Pose me as needed; like one of those funky little articulated art dolls." Anon helpfully offers, sticking his arms out.

"Noted. Well, first we're going to need you out of those clothes. I can't get proper measurements with them in the way." Rarity dutifully informs.

"Suppose not, huh. Must be the norm for you guys, yeah?" Anon asks, glancing down at his own attire. Right, forgot about that part.

"For measurements? Absolutely. For day to day? I know you've seen that clothing isn't something terribly in demand around these parts... something I've long spent trying to remedy." Rarity imparts, huffing.

"Sometimes I forget you guys are cool with walking around naked all day. You alright if we call it at my unders?" Anon inquires, working the buttons of his egregiously colored, baggy floral shirt.

"Call it at your... pardon?" Rarity asks, unsure of what he means. All these buttons would be a nightmare for any pony that wasn't a unicorn. No wonder zippers were more popular.

"Remember when I got a bulk pack of those little mini-pants, or whatever you called them from you?" Anon chimes, getting the last button off. Pulling it off himself and looping out his arms, he scrunches the shirt into a ball, tossing it aside.

He starts working on the shorts, waiting for a response. She doesn't say much at all; must be waiting for him to keep going.

"If it's cool with you, I'd like to keep those on at least. Pretty form fitting so they shouldn't affect measuring, but I don't have uh... well, if I walk around without them, it'd be in your face the whole time, the way you guys come up to my waist." Anon continues to explain. Shorts, also balled up and tossed. Socks. Sandals. Soon, he has only his underwear between himself and standing completely in the buff.

Hey, felt pretty good knowing he could just rock out naked without being judged for it. Well, not that he was going to, but still.

With his clothing pile finalized, he looks back to Rarity expectantly.

Man, her eyes are wide. And she's been silent for a good minute now.
"Rares? Ready to roll?" Anon tries to prod. Nothing.

He shuffles forward, leaning down to poke her nose. It's like he just restarted her engine, she gasps quietly and starts up at him.

Rarity

"Y-yes! Absolutely!" a few octaves higher than usual. She quickly recovers, chastising herself under her breath. Ushering Anon back to the center of the pedestal, she uses her hooves and tools to direct him into various poses, taking different measurements for his odd body. She'd always based her previous work for him off the clothes he provided; this was her first time actually sitting him down for a full set of measurements. None of the results so far are outside what she expected, but it is past time for a proper fitting.

Anon dutifully follows every nudge and instruction, his mind idly wandering. Presumably to fishing, and... whatever it is he does with the fish after that? It's a simple enough task on his end, holding things as needed. He spaces out, apparently content with the silence.

Rarity, however, is a turbulent mess who tries to bury what just happened through fervently forced focus, hiding numerous slips and duplicate measurements under as much of her professional mask as she can. There's only one thing racing through her mind, as she does her best to properly size the human.

Sweet Celestia, was he built.

The moment he took that disgusting florescent color wheel of a shirt off -- Chiseled.

Mythologically so. Statues were jealous of his stony physique. It was likely a blasphemous comparison-- but he was self-evidently the Human version of the same physical perfection Celestia herself represented.

He always wears baggy clothes. Big, stupid shirts, and shorts that hung below the knees. Certainly, he has nice forearms, shapely calves -- but what the buck is this?! How did she never notice that he had THAT hidden underneath his garish tops and bland bottoms?!

She's a steaming, stewing mess of ill thoughts as she works Anon over. The start of her heat is not helping.

Every time she instructs him to turn one way or bend another, it backfires -- it's just another pose that teases her, another way for him to casually flex or shift in a way that she catches all-new angles of masculinity.

Anon, still, is none the wiser.

And now she's working with her hooves directly on his bare skin and ohmygodhismusclesaresofirmsweetbuckingcelestia.

Rarity can't help but bite her lip as she summons every remaining ounce of willpower contained in her body.

She's professionally worked on numerous ponies of a variety of builds before. This has never been an issue. Why does his still wearing his tiny pants make this feel worse than if he was naked?

She tells Anon to turn and face her, so she can --

Sweet Celestia, it's... right in her face. She's waist-height to him already as it is... goodness, it's straining the fabric. Did he say he doesn't have a sheath? It nearly taps her nose as she asks him to turn, making her flinch back. And the... scent...

Quick, small talk. You're a master of the quick, playful chatter, Rarity. Keep yourself distracted or you're going to spiral and STOPLOOKINGATIT--

"Darling, do you, er... work out?" She manages through gritted teeth.

"Not really. Just... hike a lot. Lift some heavy stuff. Eat good. Simple things that keep me in shape, y'know?" He shrugs, her eyes glued to his body's simplest movements.

"I... see." She was able to take it leisurely in her morning routine. Now, she's forced to rush, or she might not survive the morning. This is ridiculous. And she is absolutely, in NO way, shape, or form, a floozy, but this is ridiculous!

After an agonizing, grueling, unknowable length of time (thirty minutes) that seemingly tested the very limits of her self-control, Anon's suit is finally in a wearable state. It's not perfect. Not every seam is stitched and some minor parts still need another look-over, but it's enough to try on and see how it fits.

Anon finds the bundle of clothes promptly shoved into his chest, as he's spun around towards the changing room at the back of the Boutique.

"Oop?" He mumbles, glancing to Rarity.

She sighs to herself in relief as she exits the danger zone, finally achieving some distance from Anon and her personal musky Tartarus. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand simply breathing him in. "Try these on, darling, and tell me how they fit! Quickly! But take your time!"

"Uh... yeah, sure thing, Rarity." Anon nods, stepping behind the saloon-style doors as they stop swinging, only his calves visible now.

And good sweet Celestia, what calv-- NO.

Rarity spins to look away. This is her breather. She needs to calm herself. Does she have time for a cold shower and a chance to redo all her makeup? Probably not. Ugh. She might have to stall him for a bit and steal away for a few moments to handle this. This is unbearable; she feels like she has been reverse-catfished.

While Anon gets dressed, Rarity tidies up a bit, doing her best to affirm her mindset before he returns, glancing out the window. A more familiar Ponyville morning is underway, with a few Ponies out and about in the pinkish glow sweeping the oversized village.

Oh, thank goodness, a distraction -- Spike is approaching, cutting through the plaza to see her.

He can hardly knock on the front door before Rarity throws it open, greeting him. "Spike! Darling. What a delightful surprise! What has you visiting a little-- old-- myself like... such?"

"O-oh! Hey Rarity." Spike mumbles, surprised. "I know it's early, but I wanted to ask, since I've got some time off with Twilight being so busy... did you want to, uh... go get some gems from the mountain, or something?" He asks awkwardly, smiling.

"Oh, Spike, you're a darling -- but my gem stores are still full from our last trip." Rarity waves a hoof dismissively but with appreciation.

"O-oh. Okay. Uhh--" Spike stutters, tapping his claws together.

"Truly, what a gentleman to come and offer me your time on your day off! Very sweet of you, Spike, but I'm afraid I'll be quite busy for the next few days." Rarity explains, enjoying the breath of fresh air.

"Really? Can I help?" Spike perks up.

"Oh, no, everything is handled, dear. I'll be showing off my works at a Canterlot event, and I've already retained help for the matter. Anon has been a darling and agreed to assist me." Rarity explains. Wow, that 'darling' came out heavy, Rarity. Control yourself, girl. You are NOT that easy.

"Anon? Really? I thought you two didn't like each other?" Spike asks, surprised.

"Huh? Now what gave you that idea, Spike?" Rarity retorts, surprised.

"All the times you call him an uncultured, ill-dressed, fish-mongering brute--" Spike starts to list off, counting on his little fingers.

"W-well that was just... playful teasing, Spike! And you've no need to repeat that to anyone else. Ever. He's been a delight, and we get along just fine, thank you." Rarity corrects, huffing. He certainly didn't need to hear any of that -- those were uttered under her breath in a moment of privacy. Or so she thought.

"I thought you guys, like... didn't get along at all." Spike hums, scratching his chin. "The way you call him lazy, single-minded--"

"W-well you're very sweet to offer your help, Spike, but perhaps another day! Tata!" Rarity quickly cuts him off, slamming the doors shut and startling Spike.

She slides down the back of the door, sighing heavily -- a quick peek out the window confirms a disheartened Spike slowly trudging back to the library. Apologies, Spikey-Wikey, but those were playful jests mentioned in confidence, and have no business being aired out like that.

With a sigh, Rarity looks back --

Anon is sat only a few feet away, in the lounge section of her Boutique.

Worse yet, he's in the suit.

He...

Rarity was the furthest thing from prepared for what had walked out of that changing room.

https://images2.imgbox.com/04/1f/61FwxkWt_o.png

Her jaw nearly hits the floor, eyes wide.

"...A Fish-Mongering Brute, Hmm?" He idly comments, tilting his head back. There's a shift to his tone that wasn't there before; more gravel, more growl.

Rarity's ears flatten against her head. Oh, buck.

She tries to find words, between a stuttered mix of Darlings, Anons, and Dears. They remain lost.

Slowly, Anon approaches, stepping directly over the table.

Gulp.

She's still pressed, back against the door as Anon slowly walks closer, a swagger in his stride.

Rarity's heart is hammering in her chest.

He slowly kneels, bringing himself down to eye-level with her.

His hand presses against the door beside her head as he leans over her, tilting his head.

She's sweating profusely.

"...Such cold words for your Partner, Rarity. I think... an apology is in order."

Gulp.

The facade breaks, as Anon cracks a smile. "Just messing with you, Rares. Trying to find a good mindset for the whole Partner thing, since yeah -- a Fish-Monger like me probably wouldn't show up to an event like that." He snorts, rising back to his feet. "I don't mind that kind of stuff - mostly because it's all pretty accurate."

Rarity is... elsewhere.

Her heart is hammering in her chest, breath heavy. She'd been teetering the line, but that pushed her over the brink, her self-control shattered.

The mixture of getting caught with her own words, and being summarily approached in such a manner while her guard was down...

Rarity's stare is a thousand yards away, her mind entirely elsewhere. Namely, in a place where she is biting the collar of his shirt, while his hands roam her body, a brilliant streak of crimson blush stuck glued to her face as her chest rises and falls rapidly. The heat that was originally in her core has spread through most of her body.

"Honestly, I'm flattered you've got me figured so well." Anon snorts, joking; he's taking it quite well, a testament to his laid-back attitude.
"Do you think that came on too strong, though? Maybe something more up-beat and chatty -- or should I be the... strong, silent supportive type. A man of few words, and a steely gaze." Anon ruminates aloud, making a playful, stern face.

Rarity's only response to that is to let her fantasy twist in turn, laid on the lap of a stoic, distance-staring Anon as his fingers --

"Or maybe, something more --" Anon starts.

He unfortunately doesn't get a chance to keep going, as a sweaty collection of makeup, white fur, and a purple mane tackles him to the floor.