As Ruby bid us farewell, we continued on the path we had set out on that morning. Except now, I was lost in thought, and Key Peg was hot and bothered, which was kinda funny to watch.

“So, how easy is it for a stallion to get some action?” I asked.

“Huh? You mean sex?” he asked, a little startled at my question. “Guy can find a willing mare most any night, if he’s willing to put up with going to a bar,” he continued.

“Take it you’ll be doing that tonight?” I asked with a grin.

“Yea. Need to get it out of my system before I go back on duty.”

“Is there a bar near the castle you like?”

“Yea, why?”

“I’d like to go with you, but I need to be close enough that I can walk back by myself, even if I have a few. Don’t want to be a third wheel.”

Key Peg thought pretty hard about that one. “Alright, yea... We’ll go drinking tonight. I’m warning you though, there will be mares that hit on you.”

“Right, don’t leave my drink unattended,” I said.

“Why-” whatever he was about to say was interrupted by his own thoughts as we turned a corner. “Here we are!” he said. His half-formed question forgotten.

The glass-fronted stores of the shopping district gave way to a bustling port-side bazaar. The mountain here rose on either side of us, creating a wind shelter, and the sheer cliff made for a perfect port for the flying boats. Dozens of the airships were moored along the docks, feeding the craftsmen and wholesalers that took up residence on this terrace of the mountain.

Despite living on one of the airships for a few days, I really hadn’t looked at them very well. Key Peg must have noticed me staring at them. “We’ll tour the port first. Maybe North Star’s ship is in,” he said, starting off down the road.

“Who’s North Star?”

Peg seemed insulted for a moment, before smiling. “That’s right, you couldn’t understand Equestrian. North Star is the captain of the ship that you crashed into.”

“Oh! That’s his name. I called him Star Buck.”

“That’s a cool name actually, but why did you call him that?”

“His cutie mark, looks like he’s kicking a star. Also there is a literary character in my world by that name. Though, it’s not the luckiest of names.”

“Please don’t tell him that. Even other airponies call him superstitious,” Key Peg said, shaking his head.

Walking the line of ships, I got to see them up close in their full glory. Getting a gig as a dock worker didn’t seem too bad of an idea, at first. Watching the earth ponies hauling, with ease, more than I could move, quickly dampened that idea though. I probably could make myself an asset on board the ships as a member of the crew. That could be pretty fun actually, I’d get to see a lot of this new world. I’d get to fly too, maybe I could rebuild my ultralight...

“You want me see if you can get on as a airpony?” Key Peg asked.

Snapping out of my daydream, I looked down at Key Peg. He had a kind of sad smile. “No, I’ve traveled enough for a while. Need a home to come back to first.”

I’d like to mention that ponies are very emotional creatures. Even the toughest of them are still pretty squishy on the inside.

It turned out North Star’s ship, The Magnolia, was out to sky; and they didn’t expect them back for several weeks. We spent the rest of the afternoon touring the industrial quarter. I had to laugh a bit at the title. The ponies are as pre-industrial as you get. But then, they have no need for more advanced production, and I think they’re happier for it.

My little job hunt had no luck with the wholesalers, but I did find an interesting place among the craftsmen, err... ponies. A little glass-blowing shop caught my attention. There were several glass shops in this corner of the district, but this one caught my attention. It was a fanciful kind of shop, focusing on little decorative trays, vases, and figurines. It was those little glass figurines that caught my attention.

Lampwork they call it.

There was a guy that traveled with the ren-fair, back home. He would make little glass dragons and unicorns at his booth. I loved watching him, it was that same hypnotic magic you got from watching Bob Ross. Years later, the old man had left enough of an impression on me, that I jumped at the chance to take a semester of glass blowing in college. I only got to take the intro-class, before my college career was derailed, so all I had really learned was how to not hurt myself.

Key Peg took my interest as a declaration of intent, and promptly introduced me to the shop master. Turns out the guy was looking to take an apprentice soon, but not till fall when demand spiked. He asked me to make something, so I made a little shallow bowl with frilly edges. It looked like hell, but the form was there. He seemed pleased regardless, and told me to came back at the end of the next month. Since I didn’t have a cutie mark in glass, he couldn’t promise me the spot. Apparently when foals get their mark they’re placed with the first master that can take them, but he said the spot was mine if that didn’t happen.

So I had a job offer. Something a bit more normal than being a stud. With that out of the way, Key Peg and I were both pretty hungry. Being my first time outside the palace, I was curious what food outside the castle looked like. I was explaining what a greasy-spoon diner was, when Key Peg broke out into one of those smiles of his.

“I know just where we’re eating lunch,” he said.

I followed Key Peg to the far side of the docks, where a wide road lead around the mountain, to where I was told the train station was. The steady stream of overloaded carts along the road forced us to walk the narrow foot path between the road and the mountain. We were outside the city proper here, where only a few small buildings littered the mountain side.

There was far more air-traffic here than foot, and the few griffons soaring above kept me on edge - genetic memories would not let me ignore a bird of prey large enough to eat me. There were a fair number of the Nocturne pegasus flying around here as well. My first encounter with them had been... unfortunate. But since then, I made friends with a several of them.

“I hope you like this place,” Key Peg said, pulling my eyes back to the ground. He was walking towards what could only be called a roadhouse, albeit settled on the cliff side like some watchtower; its majestic perch a sharp contrast to the ramshackle building.

I think I heard a record skip when we walked in. The place had a dozen griffons in it, with not a pony in site. I had seen several griffons since my arrival here. Star Buck had one in his crew, every now and then one would be in the castle, and quite a few had been mulling around the port and bazaar. But now I was in a hive of them.

Griffons are intimidating, let me just make that clear. So it was a bit strange when the one behind the bar, called out Key Peg by name and pointed us to a table. To my relief, the rest of the room took that as a cue to resume their food and drink.

At our table the barkeep came over to greet us “Who’s your friend?” he asked in a thick accent.

“He’s what got tangled up in the Magnolia,” Key Peg answered.

“Ahh, Monsoon told me about you. I’m Clipper, pleasure to meet you,” he said, picking up a menu from among the napkins, and placing it in front of me.

“The usual for me,” Key Peg said, as I read the little menu card.

This was... creole cooking, with meat! Well, seafood, but I’ll take it. I had been living without meat for three months now. “Blackened fish, and your herb broiled oysters, please.” I said, almost bouncing in my chair.

“You don’t let this boy out much, do you?” Clipper said, elbowing Key Peg.

“He’s had permission to go where he pleases for weeks now,” Key Peg said in defense. “Wanted me to give him a tour first.”

As the old griffon disappeared into the back I realized Peg was laughing at me. “What? And by the way, what do you eat here often enough that they know you?” I asked.

“You’re the first friend I’ve brought here that didn’t gross out at the menu,” he said laughing at my sudden bubbly mood. “And I get the crayfish stew.”

Though they called it stew, Peg’s meal was most definitely gumbo, pretty good too. The blackened fish was spot on, and I got the pleasure of teaching Key Peg how to eat oysters. Apparently he had passed on them before because ,“They looked slimy.”

Our lunch enjoyed, and a slow stroll back home, we found ourselves back at the apartment. After a midday nap to prepare for the night out, I got to see my friend’s “going out” ritual. Key Peg’s a sergeant for the royal guard, and has most the twitches I associate with military guys at that level, so I was a bit curious what his idea of cleaning up looked like. Turns out to the difference between his normal obsessive personal care and date night, was a good curring; something about shedding on a mare being bad form.

I had to take pity on Key Peg after watching him trying to use the comb on himself. He said he was fine, and did this all the time, but it was just painful to watch. Like watching someone desperately trying to lick their own back. Finally, with some more protest, I took the comb from him and told him to stand still.

“You’re... really good at this,” Key Peg said.

“I’ve curried more horses than I can count,” I said, laying into him no differently that if he had been one of my horses.

“You should have taken the stud gig. The mares would pay extra for this.” Peg’s voice was a bit sleepy sounding.

“Peg, we’re making out right now, aren’t we?”

“Yea.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

Key Peg looked back at me with a grin. “I tried to tell you.”

”Just shut up and keep your hooves to yourself.”

Our grooming completed, and the moon risen, we left the little apartment within the palace grounds. The Wall definitely fit the bill for being close, as the back of the building was the palace wall. Inside it was something of a pub, and something of an officer’s club. It was familiar enough that habit kicked in, and I made for a corner booth.

“Where you going?” Key peg asked.

I just pointed dumbly to the booth.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head, almost laughing. “We’re sitting at the bar tonight.”

“Right. We’re on display. What’s the guy code about taking mares home. I don’t want to cock block you.”

Key Peg blanked out for a moment. I obviously asked him something he had never actually thought about. “Ugh... Not on the carpet?”

We blinked at each other for a moment, before the spark of understanding lit Key Peg up. “Oh! I know what you meant. If you’re coming home second, wait an hour before coming in the house.”

I’m sure there were more social subtleties he was forgetting, but that was a good start. With my etiquette lesson out of the way, I decided to sit back and play wallflower. We ordered a little food, and some coffee. I got introduced to a few regulars that Peg knew by name.

Then it happened, about thirty minutes into being there, the bartender handed him a drink, with the message of “from the lady,” and pointing to a yellow unicorn in a booth with several others. I’d seen this, I’d seen this hundreds of times, from the booth. And sure enough it played out the same. Peg gave the mare a smile of thanks, a while later she came over and sat next to him, then he went over to their booth, and about two hours after the ritual had begun the two slipped out the door.

I made a point to check the clock. I wasn’t in a hurry to get back, but I didn’t want to interrupt that. In his whirlwind of schmoozing, Key Peg had introduced me to half the bar, including the table of mares that was now missing the yellow unicorn. I think he was trying to get one of the girls to take a liking to me, but I shot that down.

I was chatting up a young stallion when somepony plopped down on the other side of me, with the distinct sound of a glass being sat on the bar. Turning to the new pony I found a pegasus rather poised and looking at me. Before I could say anything, she pushed a tumbler towards me.

I had a choice here, refuse the drink, and risk insulting her, or take the drink and be an ass for not having any interest in her. For whatever reason, I took the drink. It was a decent rye whiskey, for what it was worth.

“Hi, I’m Blue Sky,” she said.

“Shane,” I said in return. “You’ll have to forgive me, I’m very new around here.” Blue jay wings, amethyst mane, gold eyes, she was certainly pretty. I couldn't help but admire the spectrum of glossy blues in her wings.

She didn’t miss my attention to her wings, and let her primaries fan a bit against her side. “So I’ve heard,” she said with a smirk.

I decide that was good cue to take another sip of my drink. “Oh really?”

Sky laughed, “My sister was the one that drug you out of your flying machine, and got you to the deck.”

“Oh... Tell her sorry for me when you see her next. I didn’t know...”

“It’s alright, she’s a tough old bird. You were scared. That machine of yours, though, tell me about it.”

“My ultralight?” I asked.

“The little thing you crashed into the rigging,” she said scooting up next to me at the bar.

Once again I launched into my story about the hours leading up to my crash. Only this time I skipped the human culture part, for a more detailed explanation of my plane and how it works. We shared a few more drinks after my story. That I had survived inside a thunderhead in the little contraption fascinated her, and after a while we started trading stories about flying and other idle banter. Turns out she worked on another ship, and they had been on leave for the past few weeks, but were heading back out tomorrow afternoon.

I realized I was getting a bit cuddly with Sky about the same time I realized I had finished five drinks. “I should probably head home, it been an hour yet?” I asked looking for the clock.

“Hour since when?” Blue Sky asked.

Finding said clock, I was shocked to see that it was nearly midnight. “Oh, it’s late,” I said, standing up from the bar. Standing is always the test for how much you’ve had to drink. Fortunately, I was only tipsy, not properly drunk. Blue Sky stood with me, and she seemed a bit more sober than I felt. She didn’t say anything, or act like she would follow me, but she was definitely expecting something.

“I ugh... If... Do you want to come home with me?” I asked. I kinda felt bad. She was shipping out tomorrow, and I had taken all her time tonight. It was the least I could do, offer. I mean, I had seriously thought about working a stable earlier in the day. I needed to start assimilating into the culture here.

“Lets go,” Sky said with a warm smile, leaving a little stack of bits on the bar.

It wasn’t until I reached the apartment that I realized a flaw in my plan. “I don’t have any condoms,” I said before opening the door.

Sky tilted her head at my comment. “I’m not in heat.”

My mind raced around her response. They had heat cycles. That was an interesting new bit of knowledge. “Ahh, sorry, I’m still learning this stuff,” I said, opening the door, and ushering her through. In the back of my head I was a bit worried about STI’s, but the odds of something being cross-species transmittable, seemed pretty rare in my alcohol haze.

The apartment was quiet, leaving me to assume that Key Peg and his date had fallen asleep, or that she’d already gone home. Sky patiently followed me to my own room. I had just closed the door when Sky reared up on her back hooves, and pinned me to the wall in a kiss.

It was... nice. I hadn’t been kissed like that in a long time. It was easy to forget the biology differences, with that kind of passion leveled at you. When my hands found her wings, she took it as a signal to flip us over onto the bed. She started nibbling on my neck once we landed on the bed, which again was nice, but the illusion had been broken. More importantly I was suddenly very curious about something. My distraction did not go unnoticed.

“Something wrong?” she asked. There was a careful tone to her voice.

“No, I was just wondering, can I touch your wings?”

My question got a girlish smile out of Sky. With a nod, she tucked her legs underneath her, so she could let her wings hang limp. Sitting up, I moved around to sit cross legged by her flank, and gently ran a hand up her spine, till I found the connecting joint. Letting my fingers explore the tissue there, I laid my other hand on the wing’s elbow.

Sky cooed as I rocked the joints and felt out the bone and muscle of the wing. The connecting joint felt to be a saddle joint on the inferior medial aspect of the scapula. The muscle under the wing was thick and stringy. She obviously liked it when I rubbed there, so I gave up my probing for a moment to massage around her shoulder blades. I was rewarded by her unfurling her wings loosely to their full span; draped out like that, they covered most of my bed. At the same time she reached out a foreleg and pulled one of my feet out to hold.

As my hands worked under the wing, my eyes traced the fine details of her feathers. The color and structure were fantasizing. Eventually I found my self tracing the larger feathers with my fingers, and straightening out the ones that had become tangled.

My curiosity satisfied, I leaned over her wing and brushed her cheek. “You feel like-” she was sound asleep. Apparently I had been more soothing than erotic. Reaching over to the lamp I twisted the little crystal inside it, and sent to room into darkness. I was trying to figure out how to lay down without waking her, when I got seized by two forelegs and a wing. Pinned between the wall and Blue Sky, I was trapped till she woke up.

Being cuddled by a pegasus is one of the more pleasant ways to sleep.