You wake up feeling as though Princess Celestia shoved the entirety of the sun into your head.
After smacking your lips, you immediately cringe at the taste of chalk and sourness on your tongue. Taking the opportunity to promise to never drink again (again), you roll onto your side, feeling random stalks of hay jab and prick you like poorly trained acupuncturists. Your stomach gurgles from moving about and you look over your shoulder to see if your wings are still attached, as you don't seem to be able to feel them. Much to your relief they're there; the two appendages wobbling strangely as you numbly attempt to unfurl them and flap once or twice. It appears that sleeping on the hay-covered ground while on your back must have made them fall asleep.
Growling out the proper obscenities, at least ten more minutes pass until you finally manage the effort to roll off your side so you are upright, then with some struggling you stand up on your hooves. The pin-prick feeling of proper blood flow in your back causes you to squirm about from the strange tingling sensation.
After you finish your weird, twitchy dance, your attention turns to the remains of what had to have been the greatest party since last year's Grand Galloping Gala, which are strewn about the interior of the barn that you find yourself in. While there are trash bags and garbage bins full of the various decorations and cups and used food trays next to the closed barn door, glitter and streamers and other miscellaneous things still litter the ground, apparently too difficult for the ponies responsible for cleaning up the area last night to pick up.
With a deep breath in and a long exhale out you look around, swaying ever so slightly from left to right as alcohol still remained in your system, to see a few ponies still passed out around you. The chill in the air and the orange glow of the sun's rays peeking in through the barn window high above tell you that it can't be too far past sunrise. You thank your lucky stars that somehow you always manage to wake up at the same time every day, probably because of your body being accustomed to be up early for daily practice. You'll probably have to consider how to explain to Captain Spitfire after shutting up your growling, demanding stomach.
You belch, releasing some pressure in your gut but both hunger and thirst grapple for dominance in your tired, migraine-wracked, jumbled mind.
But first you must find a toilet.
--
Stumbling out of the farm owner's house—thanking the Apple family for being so understanding of your situation and giving you all the apple-themed foods and as many glasses of water that your body could take—you head back to the barn, looking for your flight suit. With some conscious effort, and help from the still-rising sun, you find the blue and yellow attire on the other side of the hay stack that you woke up next to.
After shaking it about you figure it'd be less of a hassle to simply drape the thing on your back rather than go through the effort of putting it back on.
And immediately you're hit by the smell of orchids...
-
Despite the ground-shaking level of the bass and the fluctuating colors of the strobe lights, her scent is what immediately draws your attention.
“Hello to you too...again...” She says with an ambiguous smile.
Rubbing your eyes, you apologize that you forgot about already greeting her. Your excitement is palpable as you crouch your rear legs just a bit; it's beginning to feel a bit tight in your flight suit and you oh-so-casually adjust yourself.
You ask if she's enjoying herself and she giggles in response. She seems be looking at you, but you freeze when you realize that her eyes are aimed well below your neckline. You gulp when your eyes meet and its obvious she knew that you knew she was looking. She simply produces a shameless smile and pokes the tip of her tongue between her ruby-red lips, dragging it slowly from left to right along her teeth.
She says something but it fails to carry over the drum-heavy music. You nod stupidly each time she tries to say the line again before she drags you closer to her so she can speak directly into your ear. She presses your faces cheek to cheek in order to do so and as a result her scent wafts into your nostrils like you've been splashed in the face by a glass of it. “You're jumping the gun a bit, aren't you?” A spicy sweetness lingers and floats around and you can barely restrain yourself from just rubbing your face into her outstretched neck.
But her husky voice draws you back to attention. “Why don't you try taking it a bit slower? I'm a mare that appreciates a bit of subtlety, you know? I don't want you burning out too quickly...that is, if you've got the endurance to last until the real fun begins...”
-
Stumbling back to reality, you groan at how bright everything has gotten, clenching your eyes tight once more from the radiating sunlight.
You grumble and slowly make your way out of the barn, raising your hoof to block the sunlight from your now squinting eyes. Despite haven eaten your full, your daydreaming managed to get you to salivate—among other things—while you take to the dirt road and shamble toward town.
You're in no shape to fly at the moment, not with your back as tense and wings as stiff as they are. Forgoing the rational decision to alleviate that problem, you press your nose into your flight suit and inhale more of her scent. And while there's still the sultry smell of orchids there's also the fragrant musk of a mare's sweat.
There's a shudder down your spine at how your heart is racing from the association of the mare's scent from last night. Perhaps something was awoken inside you, but you would never have imagined that earth ponies could be so wild. If anything you'd have to privately admit that there are a few pegasi that seem frigid by comparison. Could it be that it's a result of living in Ponyville? Though that thought goes against most conceivable stereotypes about small towns compared to the night life of places like Las Pegasus or Cloudsdale.
Then again the party that you just woke up from just an hour ago was also beyond your preconceptions for a place like Ponyville.
As you wander down the dirt road you stop by a pond on the way to get a much needed drink of water.
Your flight suit slips off your shoulders as you lean down and dunk your head to break the serene water's surface to gulp up the refreshing water until you're full. The sound of splashing fills your ears when you whip your head out of the water and feel the cool beads run down your head and soaked mane against your body.
When you walk back to where you see your flight suit bunched up on the ground, a paper sticking out from within the uniform catches your eye. Bringing the paper in front of you, you figure that it looks like some sort of map. The single dark line is the main road, while the various blobs and other shapes along the road seem to be houses or other landmarks. There is a kiss mark above one of the blobs, most definitely the proverbial “X marks the spot.” Only problem is, you have no idea where that place is supposed to be.
This is only your second time in Ponyville, if one could count an overhead flyby that ended up with you and two other Wonderbolts getting trapped under a water tower tank by a rampaging dragon. You sigh at the thought, remembering why it was you now had so much free time, lately.
Entering the town proper, you look about at the number of locals busying themselves. Prominently at the center of town square is a tall towering building at least twice the height of every other and divided into three parts; the first two segments were painted in bright colors and the lowest segment wad dotted by multiple sets of steps around the circular base under the second floor open-air balcony. The third portion was the conical and dark red roof surrounded by tall pink-framed windows like the lower floors that was topped with a tower that stretched twenty to twenty five feet into the air.
If what you knew about basic earth pony city planning was right then this building had to be the town hall. You figure it would be the best place to find a map of the town to get a better grasp at what the note is supposed to be depicting.
--
When you enter the building, a small chime at the top of the door frame rings, and you're sure that you've just alerted everyone of your presence.
Although, there is only one other pony that you can see, sitting at the receptionist's desk with a quill in her mouth. The tan-colored earth pony is working between a number of papers placed all around the desk, and although at first glance it seems to be a chaotic mess, you find a strange sort of logic behind the piles.
You can't read what the forms are about, being that the words are upside down from your point of view, but glancing at the number of headers and marks on the sheets of papers, the piles were all obviously arranged to be grouped.
A few minutes pass before you decide to clear your throat and make yourself known.
The earth pony looks up from her work and adjusts her gold rimmed glasses and smiles after setting the quill back into its ink pot.
“Welcome to Ponyville, dear visitor! How can I be of service?”
You wonder aloud how it was that she knew he was a visitor.
She lets out a polite laugh and replies, “I think it would be a disservice not to know who the townsponies are, being that I am the mayor.”
You blurt out your surprise, thinking that she was the receptionist, considering the fact that the pony was in fact sitting at the receptionist's desk. You would have figured the mayor would have her own office considering how large the town hall is. Besides the desk close to the entrance, the rounded interior looks more like a small theater where there is a set of seats just above and to the side of the stage and a wide open space currently populated by partly painted set pieces, which you assume to be for the upcoming Hearth's Warming Eve celebration.
“Well wouldn't you know it, Burguette happened to get the pony flu today, and because there's nopony else at the office at the moment I had to step in.” She says with a shrug as though it wasn't a big deal. You've met a few mayors from the other towns you've been to who more often than not felt disdain toward common administrative work. Although at second glance the mare looks quite official looking, you think and nod in agreement to hide the matter of your slight embarrassment.
Somehow it didn't seem to be obvious to you at first considering the formal collar she has around her neck. But still, knowing that Ponyville was a pretty small community, you couldn't help but think it was weird that the mayor's office would only employ a single receptionist to help.
“Well, no. We have the town judge and clerk as well, but for all the other duties the townsponies all volunteer when there's work that needs to be done. Unlike the mayors of larger towns and cities I just have to worry about making speeches for events and writing reports to Canterlot. And besides, I started out as the receptionist for the previous mayor, so I know what I'm doing.” She says this with a small titter and sense of pride.
You nod, only half-interested. Not wanting to beat around the bush any further, you tell the gray-maned earth pony that you're looking for a beautiful mare. Most likely because of the leftover “liquid courage” is still floating in your blood stream, you shamelessly proclaim that she's probably the mare of your dreams.
The earth pony blinks at the sudden announcement and even seemed to lean back in her chair for a moment. “Well, I'm flattered, but-”
Rolling your eyes, you sigh and explain your situation: about the party at the Apple family's barn, the drinking, meeting said pony and subsequently having...fun...with her toward the end of the night.
“I see...” She smirks and for a moment hums out loud in thought. With a light touch of her hoof against the rim of her glasses, the Mayor asks, “Well the annual Harvest Festival has been getting a bit larger with ever year so lots of ponies have been attending recently. It could even be a pony from out of town. Do you know her name or remember what she looks like?”
You open your mouth to reply but only let out a squeak as your initial response. Your teeth clack as you snap your jaw closed quickly when realization sets in and to your horror you neither know her name or remember what she looks like. Not the color of her eyes or the color of her mane or even her cutie mark despite remembering in vivid detail how she'd sway her flanks from side to side in so hypnotic a manner.
Considering it was dark and the music was loud, and of course the abundance of alcohol didn't make recalling last night any easier, you can only gulp and slowly shake your head while staring downwards at the desk in front of you.
While a bit difficult, you strain to remember anything about her.
-
-
You drop your face into your hooves and feel exasperated. With the exception of the more explicit parts, as of right now last night is only a solid blur and static of noisy body-shaking bass. And the few scant details you do remember don't help in identifying who it was (not to mention a bit embarrassing to share with the patiently waiting pony). Rather than ask what she looked like, you were better prepared to answer what she did that left you smitten, not to mention that smell...but again, you have the common sense, as well as the common decency not to say such things in public—nor to an esteemed mare like the town Mayor.
When you lift your head back up it seems she noticed your faint blushing but chose not to ask about it, much to your relief. Finally relenting, you take the map out from within your uniform and place it onto the desk and ask her if she can recognize any of the landmarks drawn on it.
“...are you sure this is a map?” She asks with barely hidden concern. She cocks her head from side to side in confusion and adjusts the glasses on her nose while turning the paper about on the table.
You admit that while you don't know the town very well, you insist that you're sure it is in fact a map. When asked how you can only say that it's a gut instinct.
She quietly looks up at you for a moment in silence. “Well...if you insist...” The tan pony says with a shrug and looks back down at the piece of paper.
You internalize your scowl and growing irritation at the stubborn tan earth pony then decide to press on. Pointing out the kiss mark on the map, you ask where that is since you couldn't find it anywhere while wandering the town.
The mayor looks once more at the map and sounds out another “Hmmmm...”
“...if I had to guess...that spot would have to be where our resident Weather Team leader, Rainbow Dash lives." She said, tapping her hoof against the kiss mark on the crumpled note. "Her cloud home drifts about every so often, but I'm quite sure that that's what it is...according to your map, at least.”
Ignoring her comment, you're just thankful that you finally have a solid clue to work off of.
--
The small bit of motivation to reaching your goal helped you reach the cloud home floating close to town, albeit the flight was a bit awkward and slower than normal. Your back is still sore (not to mention your hips but they aren't needed to fly) and as a result each flap of your wings feels heavy while your head spins during the wobbly ascent.
But after touching down onto a bouncy cloud, you feel both energized from the exercise and a bit spent from putting your tight muscles to work without stretching. Overall however, you feel slightly better since the air at this altitude is crisper and helps in clearing your head. The breeze also filters her smell from your flight suit into your nostrils and your thoughts are taken back to last night...
-
The lights constantly dim and brighten, changing between a whole spectrum of colors at regular intervals that permeate the barn. You swear you can hear the barn walls creak from each explosion of sound that the towering speakers set up at the opposite end of where you're standing blast out.
But the sea of ponies writhing and bumping against each other in the center don't seem to pay your concerns any mind, as they move and gyrate in time to the music that is slowly infecting you with its addictive beats and wubs. While you normally wouldn't be at these types of events, Soarin felt the need to impose on your recent demotion and get you out of the barracks for the weekend, telling you about the Harvest Festival over at Ponyville. Even assuring you that he'll play the role of your wingpony.
Yet despite that assurance it didn't take long for Soarin to be recognized and pulled into a crowd of eager fangirls once the two of you paid the cover and entered the barn. And that was even when he had recommended you wear your Wonderbolts flight suit, saying that that was an instant girl magnet. But now you're here, standing alone in a one piece blue and yellow uniform with the hood on and goggles resting on your forehead, like some asshole, while everypony else is either wearing club wear like short skirts or shorts and blouses or shirts or nothing at all.
The humidity from so many ponies being contained in a single space is making you sweat and doubly regret listening to Soarin's stupid advice. Everypony seems to have gotten their hooves on some glowsticks, making you stand out even more than you thought possible.
Thirsty and lonely and depressed you figure there's no better time to get yourself wasted and get revenge on the other Wonderbolt through a drunken stupor. Making your way through the crowd of unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies, you find an empty stool at the obviously impromptu bar made up of haystacks and wooden planks. Once you set up your tab, you start off with shots. Then came full rounds of special cider for every mare and yourself that even so much as glanced your way. A crowd even formed around you and all of a sudden you found that you were defending the night's drinking championship against pony after pony after pony...
“Let me see what you look like under the hood.” The next thing you know, an earth pony is purring and grasps at the cloth of your uniform covering your face with her teeth. In a nimble fashion she pulls it over your head and “accidentally” brushes her lips against your ear, causing it to twitch. Seated on a firm hay-bale couch, the mare presses her lips against yours and you awkwardly return the sentiment before she breaks the kiss.
Somehow you're on the completely opposite side of the barn while the music still seems to be playing and the ponies still dancing to the beat. You hear a giggle from your company as she takes a step off of the “couch” and you see her turn about in a graceful dance. The pink hair of her tail brushes against your muzzle, causing you to involuntarily shiver in delight. “Well?” You see her standing a few feet away now, and watch as she turns her head just enough to see her sultry half-lidded eye cast a hungry look toward you. “Don't you want to come with me?”
-
“Hey, buddy, are you ok?”
A blue-coated mare with a rainbow mane is staring at you with some concern and you barely assuage her when you admit that you zoned out a bit.
“Alright, so...can I help you?” You're not too surprised she doesn't recognize you, considering you're only a third-string Wonderbolt. Well, you used to be a second-string, but after the whole dragon incident...
The pegasus looks at you for a moment after noticing the uniform draped over your shoulders. “Is that Soarin's?” She asks but you tell her that it's yours. “Wait, you're the guy that was recruited just last year, right? Yeah, I think you got just a few points more than me because I messed up that last turn on the obstacle course! Uh, by the way, I'm sorry about screaming at you and all...I thought you cheated...” She says sheepishly and rubs the back of her head her a foreleg.
You shrug your shoulders and say it's no big deal, then explain that you were at last night's party and what you remember of it, not even realizing that you suddenly start talking about the mystery girl you met and that you're trying to find her again.
The blue colored pony surprises you when she makes an “aww” and you can't help to blush in slight embarrassment. “Don't be, you softie!” She punches your shoulder playfully and gives a comforting smile. “At least something went right for you last night, huh? I wish I could help you but Soarin' flew me home just as Pinkie Pie busted out the alcohol. So can't say that I know who it is you scored with.”
You shake your head and roll your eyes. That would explain Soarin's disappearance later on. But you then remember the extra detail and mention that the pony had pink hair, eliciting a sudden nicker from the other pegasus.
“Pink hair? Are you positive?” Her voice cracks slightly as her question is interspersed with barely contained chuckles.
Why does everypony keep laughing at you?
“Sure Pinkie Pie loves to drink, but I kind of find it hard to believe that she'd be that, uh...friendly...no offense.”
You say in half-seriousness that you're fully offended and give her time to get the laughing out of her system now so she can tell you where to find Pinkie Pie. If not her, then it could possibly be somepony else with a pink mane and tail. It's not like one pony can have a monopoly on a hair color.
"Yeah, guess you're right."
You thank Rainbow Dash then make your way to the bakery.
--
After asking a second townspony for better directions, since Rainbow Dash had left out a few details such as which of the three bakeries you were supposed to go to, you arrive at “Sugarcube Corner” and making her way toward you after leaving the bakery is a pink colored, pink-maned earth pony. Her curls bounced with every hop she made before she stopped in mid-air and dropped down to her hooves upon noticing you. Certainly this pink-maned pony does recognize you, but not for the reason you expected.
“Hey there, you party animal! Glad to see you up so early! I guess you weren't kidding when you said your liver can take all that alcohol, huh? What was it, a full barrel of Applejack's special cider and like a dozen dozen shots? Everypony was making bets on when you'd pass out or barf your guts out—which wouldn't be nice because barf is really hard to clean up—but then you disappeared but luckily I found you talking to another pony over on the hay stacks and-”
You quickly clamp your hoof over the still-talking pony's mouth and get her to rewind and talk about the pony you were talking to.
“I dunno!” She says with a chipper smile and shrugs her shoulders after you remove your hoof. “Never saw her in town before! And trust me, I know everypony in town. But that skirt she was wearing was super cute! I wonder if my friend Rarity designed that or not...?”
You frown at her words. The fact that the mystery pony was wearing a skirt meant that no one else would have seen her cutie mark, and the bubbly earth pony shook her head when you ask if she managed to see it.
“Nah not only would that've been super rude to do, but I was so busy making sure all the other party guests were happy! Plus you two looked so lovey-dovey, I made sure to get everypony to give you some space...well actually, lots of ponies were getting some private time, if you know what I mean?”
Your heart sinks at hearing this, but you thank Pinkie Pie anyway. You understand the consideration and like Rainbow Dash said earlier, at least you got lucky, but...it feels sort of empty to give up on finding a girl so beautiful one more time just because it was a drunken romp...
--
You wander back toward the red roofed town hall and take a moment to plop down onto the grass of the well maintained town square next to a set of wooden steps. Pinkie Pie was kind enough to offer you a few cupcakes and pastries that you gladly accepted before you parted ways. Looking around as you finish a chimicherry-changa there are a lot more ponies than there were this morning, wandering about from building to building and passing by the various tents that are set up around the square.
Glancing up at the town hall once more, you spot who you assume to be the town's mailpony fluttering toward over you with envelopes and packages sticking out of her blue mail bag. Your eyes follow the pony to watch as though by clockwork the gray colored pony lands next to you and with practiced ease, the pegasus opens the mailbox, puts various letters in and closes the lid without even looking and then flies off.
For a moment, you are enchanted by the mailbox. Or at the very least your attention is simply focused on it. It is a normal mailbox, of course. Rounded at the top and flat at the bottom, much like a hoof shape but squished down, and it is a regular, uninteresting white color, but the address number is...
--
The front entrance chimes like before, immediately granting notice of your presence to the gray-maned pony. She smiles politely as you approach her desk and after setting the stack of papers she was working with, turns to your direction.
“Why hello there, again! Do you need help with anything else?”
You can only shake your head slowly, finding the corner of your lips creak up into a small smirk. You place the crumpled note onto the desk so that the single dark line is pointing between the two of you.
You remember that there's a saying, that sometimes a blob on a painting is just a blob. But in this case, you realize now, that a sprinkle of paint on a piece of paper is just that. Nevertheless, you're sure this is this address you've been looking for. It just so happened that small towns and villages like Ponyville or Apploosa or Hoofington usually reserved the same address for their town hall. Thinking back, you realize that this pony knew more about the mare you're looking for than she first let on. As your hangover had largely cleared since this morning, you notice the smell of orchids filling the air. You smile and lean closer as you inhale the sweet, wonderful scent once more.
Before you can voice your suspicions, she leans atop the desk between the two of you and offers a most enchanting smile. With how close she is to you now her scent is even stronger, drawing you ever closer, bidding you to sate your desire to inhale as much of that scent as you can but before you’re able to act she pulls away. “So do you remember, now?”
You can only nod, as the tan pony managed to leave you breathless from how enticing her scent is.
With the space of the table between you, she stays silent while glancing between you and the note, then taking off her glasses—drawing your attention to her now half-lidded blue eyes—the pony returns to an amused look while coyly playing with her mane with her hoof, revealing that the roots of her gray hair are a very bright pink.
When you ask why she didn't tell you right away, that she was your dream mare, the earth pony lets out a girlish giggle, sapping you of your ability to stay angry at her. “You were just too cute, being so sure that what you had was a map...and being so up front that the pony you were looking for was the mare of your dreams...can you blame a mare for wanting to have a bit of fun?”
Your lip quivers, as her voice suddenly takes on the husky and playfully inviting tone from last night, reminding you of the sort of fun she likes to have. You're no longer sure if the sudden flushing of your cheeks is the result of your excitement or embarrassment.
“I'm used to the boys I meet only wanting a one night stand. And it's not like they ever recognize me even after calling me 'one of a kind' or 'unforgettable' before..." You clench your teeth at the thought of such shallow stallions, no, immature colts who would do such a thing. "Eventually I figured that it was for the best, considering that I have a bit of a reputation to uphold...”
When she leans in close a second time, she touches her neck against yours, nuzzling you firmly yet softly, severely testing your ability to restrain yourself. She chuckles happily at your reaction and draws her front hoof along your chest “...and yet that didn't stop you from finding me again...” Her whispered words send shivers up your spine as the warmth of her body touching against yours makes you start to sweat. A gasp then catches in your throat, as her teeth nibble at your perked ear. "Could it be that you're the stallion of my dreams?"
You smile and nuzzle her back, deeply inhaling her intoxicating scent. It looks like you'll be visiting Ponyville much more often from now on, since you have lots more free time, lately.