20th August. Sheen
I have been frequently troubled in my dreams since leaving my wife, however I am certain it is the continued occupation of my homeland by these giant ponies. I mention this now because last night I had one that was rather more vivid than any other I've yet experienced. I was in an observatory with Professor Godfrey staring at the bright disc of Venus; the moment I stopped to wonder how I could see the brilliant while circle in view of the fact that it orbits closer to the Sun than Earth the whole view in the eyepiece became one of a shade of blue obstructing all else, and upon this blue rolling up out of the way to reveal the disc again everything seemed to zoom out showing very few stars around the planet. As the view receded even more I found myself staring into an enormous bluish-green eye, almost turquoise, whereupon I would start back and rush outside to see that I had been staring straight into the pupil of the blue-furred hybrid royal pony! She looked straight down at me with a knowing smile on her muzzle as she swung her enormous forehoof round to scoop up the hill the observatory was situated upon. At that point I woke up.
There was something very out of the ordinary about that dream. Aside from how vivid it was compared to the more abstract disturbances I have experienced up to now, the pony in question was clearly much larger than her true self and seemed to exude an intelligence that lay beyond my own mind. I worry how long I can cope with my imprisonment under the foundations of a pony's house, for the curate's faith seems to be in the throes of a potentially dangerous paradigm shift.
When I looked outside this morning I could see a mint-green unicorn mare (I may as well use the average terms for the genders of horses from here on) rearing up on her hind legs with a cream coloured regular mare watching her with an expression that implied suppressed annoyance, like she was used to this but didn't approve; it may be compared to a sensible wife's expression when her husband walks in after a long evening spent in the public house. Before I had a chance to brace myself the unicorn stumbled and fell hard onto all fours; the impact shook the ground so that I ducked, plaster falling all around to such an extent that I was struck with the horrifying prospect of being buried alive.
"For Celestia's sake, Lyra!" The cream-furred mare exclaimed. "If you keep doing that you could well squash some poor creature." I hauled myself up to witness the exchange between the two giants. I now had the opportunity to see the unicorn's head, which bore a mane that had broad incidental stripes of a lighter green compared to her coat and white akin to the princess's coat. Her companion's mane stood out more starkly in a navy blue with a prominent stripe the same colour as the rather bouncy mare I saw over Byfleet; their flanks exhibited a depiction of a small harp that I am now certain is actually a lyre and three wrapped boiled sweets.
"These little humans seem to manage all right." Lyra replied. "There must be a way for them to achieve it, especially since they have no tails to help them balance." Evidently this particular unicorn had picked up a fascination with us that seemed to exceed the average interest most of these ponies had. I couldn't follow much more of their interactions as the curate addressed me at this point.
"What happened?!" The way he was looking around himself indicated to me that he was worried about the threat of a cave-in.
"One of them lost her balance trying to mimic our ability to walk on two legs." I replied rather matter-of-factly, keeping my voice down as I couldn't possibly determine how well they could hear. This seemed to calm him down, but he then made it clear he wanted to watch for himself. Leaving him to it I looked into getting our rations sorted for the day. Once we were as satiated as we could get he went back to the window, allowing me to spend some time at this diary in the daylight for once.
I shall now consider how pony society might be structured. The one thing I am certain of is that those ponies with both wings and unicorn horns are classified as a form of royalty, though I wonder what correlation they have between royalty and theology since this has been a common feature among the nations of the world who have not taken to the monotheist viewpoint. In view of the fact that unicorn horns facilitate psychic powers, I suspect that there's a distinctive class system in place for their society to function in that the hybrids form the political authority of a royal family or some such while unicorns constitute the aristocracy of these giant ponies. By extension this would mean that the Pegasus ponies sit in a position rather like a military caste, which in view of the variety of ponies commencing this invasion I figure that they aren't the exclusive military but are more akin to a professional standing army where the other races may be called up to participate in major operations.
If this was the case, then the regular ponies would function as somewhere between proletariats and serfs, however seeing the way they interact with each other suggests that these positions aren't as rigid as one would otherwise expect. I certainly wouldn't expect a chimney sweep to back-chat towards a viscount the way those two mares were bantering. It could be that those ponies who possess the psychic conduit do automatically receive notable titles while the other two races are considered common folk, in which case it might be that the two mares I saw were essentially comparable to a medieval prince and his whipping boy.
This afternoon I had an experience that even now makes the hairs on my back stand up. When the curate had vacated the window I looked out to see the blue hybrid sitting right across from my position with what looks like gigantic parchment scrolls floating in a bluish hue that matched the one emanating from her horn, perusing each one in turn before bringing up an inkwell the size of a garden shed if not bigger, into which she thrust a quill pen that still had the feathery bristles on and then scribbled on some section of a parchment before putting it down. Not once did she use her hooves or wings in this endeavour, and I wonder which Pegasus pony she retrieved the quill from, as it had a black-and-white pattern on it more appropriate for a regular bird but its size was more fitting for one of these giants. At any rate she was about halfway through when she suddenly stopped and set everything down quite gently and turned her head straight towards me, eyes firmly locked upon my spot!
I cannot conclude what this could mean. The window I can look out through is only a yard wide and a foot high at this time, which adjusted for her scale would be no bigger than her bicuspids and, as such, my head wouldn't be larger than an ant. There was surely a mile between us, so how could she see me, making me think upon my doubts as to the limitations of their hearing. Nevertheless those great big eyes stared so intently that I felt completely exposed, all sense of security left me as I saw her muzzle curl up in a smile, and I was suddenly reminded of the dream I had last night. It was uncanny!
Just as I expected her to stand up and thunder over to tear open my shelter and snatch me up for her own purposes I heard another pony call out.
"\Hey, princess!" The ground shook around me as her face slipped back into a slightly aloof expression and turned away to look at her petitioner. Without the hypnotic effect of her eyes I realised that the shaking was much heavier than I had been accustomed to and looked over to see four huge pink hooves come crashing down in front of the house. "You coming to our party? I got all your favourites." I gawped at the pink mare, not just because I remembered her from Byfleet and Weybridge but also the fact that she seemed to have little regard for rank. I half expected the blue princess to send her away with a flea in her ear, but instead she seemed to give a resigned sigh and stood up, her horn illuminating and sending all her paperwork back into the house.
"Very well, Pinky. We are grateful for your efforts. Lead on." It was with some relief that Pinky had bounced far enough away that I could handle the vibrations before the princess set off after her, actually seeming to spare a glance at our hide-out as she went. I could clearly see the black patch with a crescent moon upon her flank as she left; I even thought for a moment that she shook her rear in my direction before she stepped out of my line of sight!
Okay, the sun's going down now, so I'd best put my last ruminations for the day down. Most of these ponies seem to have names that reflect the markings on their flanks, but there are some notable exceptions. A stallion with an apple that's had a slice or bite taken out of it on his flank who's called Big McIntosh and a starkly pink mare who appears to have some colourful balloons on her flank who's called Pinky; the latter does make sense as the only things about her that aren't pink are her eyes and the mark on her flank, but had I hard the name Big McIntosh before seeing him I would've expected his flank to display a cat wearing a kilt or something like that. Come to think of it, how do they determine family names when compared to their Christian names? I have seen two-named ponies now and then such as Rainbow Dash, Big McIntosh and Apple Jack.
Well, I am dreadfully tired. The way the blue princess seemed to stare straight at me sent my heart racing. Maybe I shall gain a better perspective tomorrow.
I have been frequently troubled in my dreams since leaving my wife, however I am certain it is the continued occupation of my homeland by these giant ponies. I mention this now because last night I had one that was rather more vivid than any other I've yet experienced. I was in an observatory with Professor Godfrey staring at the bright disc of Venus; the moment I stopped to wonder how I could see the brilliant while circle in view of the fact that it orbits closer to the Sun than Earth the whole view in the eyepiece became one of a shade of blue obstructing all else, and upon this blue rolling up out of the way to reveal the disc again everything seemed to zoom out showing very few stars around the planet. As the view receded even more I found myself staring into an enormous bluish-green eye, almost turquoise, whereupon I would start back and rush outside to see that I had been staring straight into the pupil of the blue-furred hybrid royal pony! She looked straight down at me with a knowing smile on her muzzle as she swung her enormous forehoof round to scoop up the hill the observatory was situated upon. At that point I woke up.
There was something very out of the ordinary about that dream. Aside from how vivid it was compared to the more abstract disturbances I have experienced up to now, the pony in question was clearly much larger than her true self and seemed to exude an intelligence that lay beyond my own mind. I worry how long I can cope with my imprisonment under the foundations of a pony's house, for the curate's faith seems to be in the throes of a potentially dangerous paradigm shift.
When I looked outside this morning I could see a mint-green unicorn mare (I may as well use the average terms for the genders of horses from here on) rearing up on her hind legs with a cream coloured regular mare watching her with an expression that implied suppressed annoyance, like she was used to this but didn't approve; it may be compared to a sensible wife's expression when her husband walks in after a long evening spent in the public house. Before I had a chance to brace myself the unicorn stumbled and fell hard onto all fours; the impact shook the ground so that I ducked, plaster falling all around to such an extent that I was struck with the horrifying prospect of being buried alive.
"For Celestia's sake, Lyra!" The cream-furred mare exclaimed. "If you keep doing that you could well squash some poor creature." I hauled myself up to witness the exchange between the two giants. I now had the opportunity to see the unicorn's head, which bore a mane that had broad incidental stripes of a lighter green compared to her coat and white akin to the princess's coat. Her companion's mane stood out more starkly in a navy blue with a prominent stripe the same colour as the rather bouncy mare I saw over Byfleet; their flanks exhibited a depiction of a small harp that I am now certain is actually a lyre and three wrapped boiled sweets.
"These little humans seem to manage all right." Lyra replied. "There must be a way for them to achieve it, especially since they have no tails to help them balance." Evidently this particular unicorn had picked up a fascination with us that seemed to exceed the average interest most of these ponies had. I couldn't follow much more of their interactions as the curate addressed me at this point.
"What happened?!" The way he was looking around himself indicated to me that he was worried about the threat of a cave-in.
"One of them lost her balance trying to mimic our ability to walk on two legs." I replied rather matter-of-factly, keeping my voice down as I couldn't possibly determine how well they could hear. This seemed to calm him down, but he then made it clear he wanted to watch for himself. Leaving him to it I looked into getting our rations sorted for the day. Once we were as satiated as we could get he went back to the window, allowing me to spend some time at this diary in the daylight for once.
I shall now consider how pony society might be structured. The one thing I am certain of is that those ponies with both wings and unicorn horns are classified as a form of royalty, though I wonder what correlation they have between royalty and theology since this has been a common feature among the nations of the world who have not taken to the monotheist viewpoint. In view of the fact that unicorn horns facilitate psychic powers, I suspect that there's a distinctive class system in place for their society to function in that the hybrids form the political authority of a royal family or some such while unicorns constitute the aristocracy of these giant ponies. By extension this would mean that the Pegasus ponies sit in a position rather like a military caste, which in view of the variety of ponies commencing this invasion I figure that they aren't the exclusive military but are more akin to a professional standing army where the other races may be called up to participate in major operations.
If this was the case, then the regular ponies would function as somewhere between proletariats and serfs, however seeing the way they interact with each other suggests that these positions aren't as rigid as one would otherwise expect. I certainly wouldn't expect a chimney sweep to back-chat towards a viscount the way those two mares were bantering. It could be that those ponies who possess the psychic conduit do automatically receive notable titles while the other two races are considered common folk, in which case it might be that the two mares I saw were essentially comparable to a medieval prince and his whipping boy.
This afternoon I had an experience that even now makes the hairs on my back stand up. When the curate had vacated the window I looked out to see the blue hybrid sitting right across from my position with what looks like gigantic parchment scrolls floating in a bluish hue that matched the one emanating from her horn, perusing each one in turn before bringing up an inkwell the size of a garden shed if not bigger, into which she thrust a quill pen that still had the feathery bristles on and then scribbled on some section of a parchment before putting it down. Not once did she use her hooves or wings in this endeavour, and I wonder which Pegasus pony she retrieved the quill from, as it had a black-and-white pattern on it more appropriate for a regular bird but its size was more fitting for one of these giants. At any rate she was about halfway through when she suddenly stopped and set everything down quite gently and turned her head straight towards me, eyes firmly locked upon my spot!
I cannot conclude what this could mean. The window I can look out through is only a yard wide and a foot high at this time, which adjusted for her scale would be no bigger than her bicuspids and, as such, my head wouldn't be larger than an ant. There was surely a mile between us, so how could she see me, making me think upon my doubts as to the limitations of their hearing. Nevertheless those great big eyes stared so intently that I felt completely exposed, all sense of security left me as I saw her muzzle curl up in a smile, and I was suddenly reminded of the dream I had last night. It was uncanny!
Just as I expected her to stand up and thunder over to tear open my shelter and snatch me up for her own purposes I heard another pony call out.
"\Hey, princess!" The ground shook around me as her face slipped back into a slightly aloof expression and turned away to look at her petitioner. Without the hypnotic effect of her eyes I realised that the shaking was much heavier than I had been accustomed to and looked over to see four huge pink hooves come crashing down in front of the house. "You coming to our party? I got all your favourites." I gawped at the pink mare, not just because I remembered her from Byfleet and Weybridge but also the fact that she seemed to have little regard for rank. I half expected the blue princess to send her away with a flea in her ear, but instead she seemed to give a resigned sigh and stood up, her horn illuminating and sending all her paperwork back into the house.
"Very well, Pinky. We are grateful for your efforts. Lead on." It was with some relief that Pinky had bounced far enough away that I could handle the vibrations before the princess set off after her, actually seeming to spare a glance at our hide-out as she went. I could clearly see the black patch with a crescent moon upon her flank as she left; I even thought for a moment that she shook her rear in my direction before she stepped out of my line of sight!
Okay, the sun's going down now, so I'd best put my last ruminations for the day down. Most of these ponies seem to have names that reflect the markings on their flanks, but there are some notable exceptions. A stallion with an apple that's had a slice or bite taken out of it on his flank who's called Big McIntosh and a starkly pink mare who appears to have some colourful balloons on her flank who's called Pinky; the latter does make sense as the only things about her that aren't pink are her eyes and the mark on her flank, but had I hard the name Big McIntosh before seeing him I would've expected his flank to display a cat wearing a kilt or something like that. Come to think of it, how do they determine family names when compared to their Christian names? I have seen two-named ponies now and then such as Rainbow Dash, Big McIntosh and Apple Jack.
Well, I am dreadfully tired. The way the blue princess seemed to stare straight at me sent my heart racing. Maybe I shall gain a better perspective tomorrow.
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April 19
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