Ballroom A Bird in a Herd(Ballroom- Open)

[ShadowWalking18]

"Why am I here again?" Razor said to himself, standing to the side of the ballroom. He watched the mass amounts of ponies and dignitaries and goodness knew what other titles such individuals needed.

Razor fidgeted in the outfit he wore. A basic best, adorned with the symbol of Aquilia on the chest. His wings were still free for flight, though one was always covered by a short cloak, fringed with gold along the hem. His feathers were styled, and all in all he felt like an idiot.

"Mom...tries too hard to get me hitched with somegriffon. But this is just going out of the way to drive me into insanity." He said to himself, remembering the...stern discussion his mother had given him on attending this....social gathering.

He sighed, cursing himself for being unable to say no to his parents. He was just glad no one he knew was here. Otherwise he felt sure he would die of embarrassment.

"Okay...where's the food and drink? I'll grab a beverage, and then some place to lay low." He muttered to himself as he started walking, looking for his designated target.

"What is this gathering for again anyway?"

[Blueblood]

"Well comrade, I rather think your mother had the basic underpinning philosophy firmly grasped." The lavender unicorn's approach had been soft and silent, and he had apparently heard every word that Razor had been saying to himself. Turning around, the griffon would have seen a lanky colt just on the cusp of stallionhood, dressed to the nines in a dark blue suit, the color of night, with a white shirtfront gleaming like the moon. He had a monocle in his eye, and a not-unfriendly expression. "What you observe is an elaborate social machinery, dedicated to two purposes. One, to gain the name services of the caterer. Second, to secure mates. This is, in fact, the original aristocratic stockmarket; feedstock and breedstock, you see?"

His tone was even and cultured, though through the lens in his eye, one might see magnified the sparkle of humor.

[ShadowWalking18]

Razor stopped and looked at the pony that spoke to him.

He blinked confused, "Uhhh.....right. Feed and...that other thing."

"Though frankly I'd rather not try to find a mate here....or anywhere." He said, "And wait....what does a kid like you know about this stuff anyway?"

[Blueblood]

"My dear fellow," The unicorn sauntered up right next to Razor, lowering his voice into a more confidential tone, "I am a product of this world, and have myself received some subtle maternal hints as to the purpose of my visit. Oh, but I seem to have taken leave of my manners." He stepped back a bit, and bowed. "My name is... rather too long, just call Psmith, will you? That is, P-S-M-I-T-H, with a silent P. I am rather particular about that. You may give me your name as we make our way to the buffet table, and after restoring our tissues, we might work out a little solution to your... present difficulties. We bachelors have to stick together, you know."

Young as he might have been, Psmith certainly acted the whole "stallion-of-the-world" bit fairly well. His voice had a laid-back, knowing air that soothed anypony feeling out of their depths, and he really did want to help. He was the sort that always wished to spread a little good, wherever he was.

[ShadowWalking18]

"Uhh.....yea.....right." Razor said, a bit unsure of this colt.

'Well looks like I can kiss finding someplace to lay low out the window. I hope this doesn't turn into a nightmare for me.' He thought for a moment.

He turned and made his way to the refreshment table, not really caring if Psmith followed or not, though he assumed he did.

"Right. I'm Razor. And if you have any remarks on my height, keep them to yourself." He said, giving a quick glare to the pony.

Yes Razor was smaller then most griffons, in fact at times he felt he was confused for a child more then an adult.

[Blueblood]

"I have no remarks on me, and shall waste no energy in the manufacture." Indeed, Psmith actually looked a little hurt at the suggestion that he should be so rude. He was polite and sociable, by conviction as much as by nature. It was only a slight impression, passing as they came near the table, and were hailed with a wave by another colt, a large, chocolate-coated Earth Pony with a cricket bat cutie mark.

"I say, Psmith, I didn't know they'd serve salted caramel cupcakes here. They've even got butterscotch filling!" He had to swallow before replying, a few crumbs falling out onto his black-tie ensemble. The lanky unicorn sighed, as one does at the foibles of a friend, as he dusted off the other's jacket. "Comrade Batsman, do mind your manners; I should like to introduce to you Comrade Razor, of the Great Griffon Republic of Aquellia." A duke could hardly have hoped for more dignified diction.

The earth pony just stuck out a hoof to shake. "Call me Might, and don't mind Psmith. Jaw's a lot," and he nodded towards the speech bubble cutie mark on his friend, "But he's a good sort, especially if you're in a jam." He had a slight Trottingham accent, polished by a country boarding school, but his face was open, honest, and rural. His build was as abnormally large for a pony as Razor's was small for a griffon, but he didn't look the sort to throw his weight around.

Psmith, having made a judicious selection among the hors d'ourves, filled three cups of punch and passed them around. "And on that note, comrades, let us return to the issue at hand, namely, the difficulty currently facing comrade Razor. Like most comfortable bachelors, he much prefers to have quiet, undisturbed evenings, free of the pressures of pursuit. Unfortunately, maternal fiat forces him into such gatherings as these, with definite encouragements to female companionship. Have I the gist of the situation in hoof?"

[ShadowWalking18]

Razor a feeling that this was not going to go well, still it wouldn't do to be anti-social in this sort of setting. Even if he didn't exactly want to be social.

'Maybe if I try hard enough I can loss them in all the fuss.' He thought for a moment as he looked over the table.

"Ugh..no meat." He said, sighing. Maybe there was some, out there......but he doubted it.

"Umm...anyway...yeah. You hit the nail on the head. My mom is desperate to see me hitched and fathering a litter of fledglings....much to my great discomfort. I swear she would try to hook me up with a dragon if she thought it would work out. She once forced me into a speed dating thing just to see if I met anyone nice."

He rubbed his head, remembering that whole scenario. Good grief he could still remember every painful detail of embaressment. Not to mention the bar fight.

[Blueblood]

Upon hearing of Razor's disappointment in the spread, Psmith rapidly tapped his hoof on the table twice and held it in the air, calling out, "Garcon?" One of the waiters, dressed in the foam wings and horn that were the unofficial uniform bustled over, where he was promptly buttonholed by the lanky unicorn. "We have a very special guest from Aquellia with us, so could you bring us one of the 'special' trays made up for such an occasion? A fresh one, mind, seafood responds not well to extended wait times in warm kitchens. Let us not be remiss in our hospitality, comrade, tonight of all nights!"

The waiter, slightly dazed, wandered back to the kitchens, to return a little later with a tray of various little dishes for griffons, including prawn rolls and a kind of fish bruschetta. In the meantime, Might was filling out another plate, and providing a sympathetic ear to Razor's woes. "Sounds tough. Do you have a place to stay, out of her reach? Psmith can find you a cheap flat if you need one."

Psmith looked back from directing the waiter, and nodded. "And if you still have trouble raising capital, I have a few schemes that may bring the bits, with the application of a little application, as the ambassador's aide would say. But, in order to gain the time and freedom to pursue this permanent solution, we must get your mother to lessen the pressure, and this we shall do by discouraging her efforts and deflecting her suspicion." He took a delicate sip of punch before continuing. "Worry not, comrade, I have a plan. But the success of this plan depends upon how much you were exaggerating when you said that your mother would accept a dragon. To come to the point, is there any sort of mare, or female in general, which she would look askance at? Someone at whom she would recoil in horror should you bring home, therefore, I posit, being cooled in her... grandmotherly ambitions?"

[ShadowWalking18]

"I prefer to be a wandering nomad. Living in one place at a time. Not one to settle down in a nest right now." Razor said. His attention quickly turned to the food brought for him and he snatched the whole tray from the pony.

"Mmmm. Now this is food." He picked up a prawn and tossed it into his mouth.

He chewed and swallowed before he spoke again, "Yeah. A girl my mother would dislike. I doubt I could find a girl that my mom would dislike.....she is really desperate to get me hitched."

He ate another prawn, "Besides, .....its not like I want to be alone for my whole life. I just accept it as a lost cause. I'm not a dream guy for girls of my kind, and...uh....I....kinda."

He growled and mumbled "Kinda.....afraid of.....girls." He grumbled the last part and quickly pointed a claw at the two ponies.

"And if you two....tell ANYPONY or ANYGRIFFON. I will eat you." He snarled, "Do you hear me."

[Blueblood]

Psmith had let Razor talk, which was uncharacteristic of him, Might noted. If he went more than a minute without talking, that meant he was considering something seriously.

For his own part, the Earth Pony had to try really hard not to laugh when Razor had threatened to eat him, as the colt stood at least a full head taller than the griffon. He failed to stifle a snort, but covered it up by saying, "Oh, no worries. But Psmith's got a mouth like a waterfall, so if you want to save time..."

"Now, comrade, there is no need for that." Psmith cut in, with an air of mild reproach. "Your secret is safe with me. In fact, as a gesture of faith, I shall impart a little secret of our own." Here the unicorn leaned in, speaking to Razor in a stage whisper. "You are not the only one. Comrade Batsman and I both own to fearing mares. What logical response but fear and awe can there be, to a creature that holds the power of misery and elation over us, with but the very expressions of her visage?"

Might Batsman shrugged, as if to say, 'Yeah, but what can you do?', before taking another drink from his punch glass. "It's a bit rot, I think, to have to face them alone, but you don't have to."

"Indeed. If you require or desire the services of, ah, wingstallions, Comrade Batsman and I offer our services. The cry goes 'round the castle walls: 'Reinforcements have arrived! Rally to the beleaguered hunter!' Like the three Musketeers, we go out to face the world, or the Gala, which is the same anyhow." Psmith drained his glass, apparently ready to start immediately.

[ShadowWalking18]

"Now hold on, I don't remember agreeing to anything like this." Razor said.

"Look, I'm not exactly good around girls period. And I'm sure they don't want anything to do with me."

He could feel that this was going to be a bad day. If not embarrassing.

"Besides....I doubt you know any girls that would be interested in a griffon.....especially me."

He quickly finished off his plate of food and tried to think of a way out of this. Maybe if he snuck off to the gardens. But, something told him that this was something he couldn't run away from.....and that made him feel afraid.

[Blueblood]

Might only smiled and shook his head. For all his size, he had little force of character compared to his lanky friend, and had long ago figured that it wasn't worth the trouble to resist letting Psmith get up to... whatever it was that he wanted to do. Either it would work out, or the Unicorn would make a foal of himself, and the latter was generally more common.

Psmith, meanwhile, having sensed that the hook was in, threw a hoof around Razor's shoulder as he continued to sell the idea. "Come now, comrade, shed the defeatist attitude! Certainly, it is inevitable that we shall face rejection; I should say we have only 1 in 20 chances of success in any case. Well, then let us make a round of 20, and success is made certain! Besides," He said, looking the griffon up and down as he guided them away from the table, "You are hardly what I should call a hopeless case. Compact and fit, no spare flesh. Undoubtedly a flyer par excellance, and let us not forget the exotic touch. The clothes enhance the image, as they should." Psmith delivered the last judgment with authority; he was a colt who took great care in sartorial matters.

"Look at it this way," Might said encouragingly as they went out into the hall proper, "Out of all of us, Psmith's going to make the greatest ass of himself. No need to be embarrassed."

Psmith shot him a look, but only replied, "Just so, comrade Batsman, just so."