Cloudsdale was not a convenient city for ponies without wings.
To be fair, it was never meant for unicorns or earth ponies, and the city engineers who laid out its streets and blocks hadn’t considered the possibility that their ground-bound kin might one day come for a visit. The city wasn’t even anchored to a single location – one day it might be floating near Canterlot, the next slowly drifting its way between Fillydelphia and Las Pegasus (which, oddly enough, was almost entirely an earth pony town). It had no set altitude, and it rose with the heat of the day and fell in the cool of night.
Pegasi did not think in two dimensions. Their neighbors were not just beside them, but below and above them as well. Roads in Cloudsdale, such as they were, ran vertically up towers of clouds, wrapped around banks of nimbostratus, or simply passed through the empty void between city blocks, nevermind the miles-deep chasm below. The very shape of the city was undefined, with houses and buildings and entire neighborhoods drifting around at the whim of the winds. It was not an efficient way to run a city, especially compared to the grid-like metropolises of the great earth pony cities, but then, no one had ever accused the pegasi of being concerned with efficiency. Cloudsdale was messy and organic and fluid and beautiful, just like the ponies who called it home, and that was good enough for all concerned.
Except, of course, for the rare wingless visitor. So rare that the sight of a dove-white unicorn with a fashionably curled amethyst mane trotting along atop the clouds was a shocking enough sight to literally stop traffic. Rarity was used to being the center of attention, and in fact went to great lengths to force herself into the spotlight, but even she found the constant stares a bit unnerving.
Cloudsdale was inconvenient for her to navigate but not impossible. The engineers and architects who kept city from drifting apart had at least considered the possibility that ponies who were unable to fly might live there, and made sure that real, solid (such as it was with clouds) roads and stairs connected the city’s major sections. They were mostly meant for foals too young to fly, or pregnant mares who found it easier to walk, but they worked just as well for Rarity and her friends.
It would have been easier, she supposed as she walked from the hotel to one of the city’s many shopping plazas, to just have Fluttershy run errands for them. But Fluttershy was still in the hospital, and it wouldn’t have been fair to ask her to leave Rainbow Dash’s side just to grab some snacks for the rest of them.
And so Rarity walked.
She would have preferred to have her friends with her, but those bonds were beginning to fray these past few days. Twilight Sparkle spent her time planning the funeral, or rather, attempting to plan it. Her offers to help organize the event were politely but consistently rebuffed by the Wonder Bolts, and instead she spent her time in the hotel room, reading through books on grief and bereavement and occasionally taking notes that found their way into a binder filled with colored tags. The others let her read – different ponies handled stress in different ways.
Applejack and Pinkie Pie spent most of their time at the hospital. They only returned at night, and curled up in the same bed for a few fitful hours of sleep before waking with the dawn and trudging back. There was nothing romantic or intimate there that Rarity could see. They just didn’t want to be alone.
Again, different ponies handled stress in different ways.
For Rarity, that meant shopping. She hadn’t brought any clothes with her in the rush to Ponyville, and all six of her friends needed something to wear for the funeral. It didn’t have to be much, but a funeral was a ceremony, and ceremonies bore more weight if their participants dressed the part. Nudity was fine for everyday life but not for this.
The plaza was nearly empty when Rarity finally arrived. She had learned over the past few days that Pegasi were not morning creatures – most shops didn’t open until just before lunch, though they might not close their doors until nearly midnight. And that assumed they even bothered opening at all, rather than just knock-off for the day. The few pegasi she encountered looked like they were still trying to wake up, yawning and bleary eyed with wind-tossed manes that probably hadn’t seen a comb in some time. It was hard to tell with pegasi.
The first shop she visited was, remarkably, already open, though no other customers were in sight when she walked through the doors. Her only company was a middle-aged stallion with a fashionable little goatee and rings in his ears tending to the cash register. As soon as she walked in, he looked up with a smile and trotted around the counter toward her.
“Good morning, miss. Can I help you find anything today?”
Finally, a pony whose first reaction wasn’t shock at seeing a unicorn. A smile intruded on her weary features, and she stepped up closer to him, weaving her way around a display of spring coats she vaguely recalled seeing advertised in one of her magazines. Unlike most pegasi, he had actually bothered to style his powder blue mane and tail. The color complemented the pale grey of his coat quite nicely, she noticed, and nicely highlighted the darker blue tie that was his only accessory.
“You may.” She paused and tilted her head at a selection of wide-brimmed hats hanging on the wall, incidentally showing off her flanks. “I’m looking for some formal saddles, preferably charcoal or another dark grey.”
His eyes lingered on her for a moment before returning to to the display. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something more colorful? Strong primaries are the trend this spring, and I think a nice canary yellow would go with your mane.”
A nice canary would go well with her mane, but that wasn’t the point of her visit. She gave his suggestion a curt little nod, just enough to be polite. “I’m sure it would, but I’m afraid this is for serious gathering. Mister...?”
“Please, just Cirrus. I think I have a few things that might suit you. Would you like to try them in the dressing room?”
“That won’t be necessary, Cirrus. I’d just like to see the styles and colors.” She’d long since memorized each of her friends’ measurements and could have fitted them in the dark. Something as simple as a saddle barely even required knowing their sizes.
“Of course. One moment while I grab some samples.” He gave her a smile that was a bit warmer than necessary for a client-merchant relationship, and she found her eyes lingering on his form as it retreated into the stockroom. How long had it been since she’d slept with a pegasus stallion? Well over a year, she realized. What would he be like? Would he laugh if she nibbled on the tips of his wings? And clouds! What would it be like to—
Would you stop it? You’re in town for a funeral and you still can’t stop trying to bed random stallions. What happened to you?
Well, nothing had happened. Her head drew up and back, and a reserved expression replaced the open interest on her face. And anyway, they weren’t random stallions, they were prime stallions, the best stallions, and that was what she deserved.
She would have gone on trying to convince herself of this for some time longer, had not the merchant returned with a stack of saddles in a variety of styles, ranging from simple and clean to ornate and frilled. In the end she selected one of the cleaner designs, only ornamented by a sheer black fringe that would ever-so-slightly veil the wearer’s cutie mark. She wrote down the five sets of measurements and passed them across the counter.
“Normally it would take a week to get these ready, but I’ll rush this one through,” he said. “Should have them done by Friday. Six hundred bits for everything.”
She blinked at the offer. It wasn’t just low – it would barely cover the cost of the materials, much less his time. “That’s a very generous price. They’re for an, um...” She trailed off. Was funeral even the right word? Was that what pegasi called it?
“For the funeral,” he said. “I should’ve realized it as soon as you walked in. We don’t see unicorns much up here, and it’s been all over the news.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry about your friend. I hope she gets better.”
Rarity eyes threatened to water, and she found she couldn’t speak. Instead she nodded and made do with what she hoped was a polite cough. He took that as his cue to take the saddles back to the storeroom.
From the faint look of surprise on his face, he hadn’t expected her to still be in the store when he returned. She put on a demure smile that carried no hint of her previous distress.
“So, do you have any plans for tonight?”
* * *
Cirrus’s breath was hot and ragged behind her ear. He snuffled through her mane as if trying to drink her scent, and peppered the side of her neck with kisses and tiny little bites that set her cooing and gasping respectively.
Part of her wanted to feel ashamed. Back at the hotel, Applejack and Pinkie Pie were no doubt fitfully asleep, tossing and turning under the covers. Twilight Sparkle was probably still reading, trying to learn everything she could about pegasi traditions before literally falling asleep on her books. Fluttershy would be napping in her chair, waking every few hours to check on Rainbow Dash, to see if she needed anything, or if she were in any pain, or if had woken up and couldn’t stop crying. Again.
But not Rarity. Rarity was enjoying herself, enjoying her little vacation. Rainbow Dash could only taste ashes – Rarity could still taste Cirrus’s seed from their first round of play. Like most pegasi he was easy to arouse and easy to bring to a climax, but also like most pegasi he was quick to recharge. His cock had barely stopped pulsing in her mouth, and he was ready to go again. It was rather remarkable for a mare who spent most of her time with unicorns.
She found she liked it.
Her hips pushed back against his with each thrust, forcing him a bit deeper. He wasn’t very large as stallions went, but his enthusiasm more than made up for any deficiencies in that regard. He worked her with such speed and force that she would certainly be sore in the morning.
And she didn’t care. She bit down on the cloud pillow to hold in an unladylike moan that threatened to spill from her throat. Her groin was beginning to burn with that old pleasure, peaking with each thrust as his cock stretched her a bit wider than before. Any minute now...
Slut. Whore. What would they think if they saw you like this? Fucking a stallion you just met the night before a funeral?
It didn’t matter what they thought – they would never know about this. Besides, she’d gone through all the trouble of buying those nice saddles for the funeral. Surely she was entitled to spend some time on herself.
Cirrus’s hooves battered at her shoulders in a frankly distracting manner, the one thing she found annoying about their sex. After a few minutes of semi-coherent analysis, broken by the occasional moan as he nibbled on her ears, she realized he was trying to play with her wings. She laughed at the sudden mental image that provoked, and that was enough to tip her over the edge.
The orgasm washed over her a moment later, accompanied by a flood of warmth deep in her pelvis. She collapsed onto the cloud mattress with his body still atop hers – he weighed significantly less than she did, and she could’ve spent all night in that position, still penetrated, panting, dripping.
Of course you could. This is your life.
He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “Again?”
Yeah. Yeah, why not? Different ponies handled stress in different ways.
* * *
On the day of the funeral, the sky above Cloudsdale was nearly black, so thick were the clouds. A cruel mixture of rain and sleet pelted Rarity’s face as she stepped off the carriage onto the open platform reserved for the ceremony. Hundreds of pegasi managed to crowd onto it, pushing right up to the edge of the thousand-foot drop to the sodden plain below.
Her hooves sank into the cloudstuff with each step and left hoof-shaped puddles behind her. She couldn’t help but shiver as her coat slowly soaked through, and only the feeble protection offered by the black saddle on her back kept her from shaking with the cold. The pegasi around her, adapted to the chill of the high empty skies, gave her an occasional sympathetic glance. She smiled her appreciation at them and continued forward.
Up ahead, at the edge of the cloud bank, Twilight and Fluttershy stood close beside Rainbow Dash. The Wonder Bolt's coat appeared almost gray, her normally colorful mane lifeless and wan. A thick splint wrapped in gauze entombed her left foreleg, and she held it awkwardly against her chest. But worse than the physical wound was the look on her face – lost, like a foal torn from her parents and tossed into the wide, dark, unforgiving world.
Alone among her friends, Rainbow Dash wore no colors of mourning. Instead she wore her Wonder Bolts uniform, modified to accommodate her injuries. This wasn’t the jumpsuit they wore during performances – this was a full-up uniform, with piping and medals and a visored wheel cap that somehow managed not to clash with her mane.
Rarity leaned forward to press her cheek against Dash’s. She felt more than heard the mare sigh.
“Hey. Thanks... Thanks for coming, Rarity.”
“Of course dear,” Rarity whispered back. “Anything. We’re here for you.”
The ceremony itself bore little semblance to the funerals Rarity had attended in the past. For one thing, there was no coffin. Instead, a small dais had been erected near the front of the platform, adorned with black bunting and topped by a silver urn. She started at it in confusion for a full minute before Twilight finally noticed.
“That’s him,” she whispered, keeping her voice low enough that Dash couldn’t hear. “He was cremated this morning. Those are his ashes.”
Cremated. That was a word she barely heard once a year. In retrospect, it made sense – pegasi, whose lives revolved around flying, wouldn’t bury their dead in the ground.
“What, ah... What do they do with the ashes?” she whispered back.
“A friend or loved one will scatter them.” Twilight’s eyes slid over to Rainbow Dash for a moment. “Cloud Fire will be doing it.”
Because Rainbow Dash can’t, was the unspoken addendum. Indeed, Rainbow Dash barely seemed able to stand. She leaned on Fluttershy for support, her eyes locked on the urn like it was the only thing in her universe.
There was little pomp or circumstance to the service. At some predetermined time, Cloud Fire stepped out of the crowd toward the dais. He used his wings to hover near it, and grasped the urn in his forehooves. Rarity saw his mouth move as he addressed his lost friend, and then he twisted the lid off and slowly upended the vessel over the cloud’s edge.
The ashes were almost pure white, she was surprised to see. For some reason, she thought they would be black. A few steps away, Rainbow Dash moaned quietly as her lover drifted away on the winds.
* * *
“Well, that was...” Rarity trailed off. For once she was at a complete loss for words. “Very nice. Very heartfelt.”
They had congregated back at the hotel. Rainbow Dash wasn’t with them – Spitfire had bundled her up and vanished almost as soon as the ceremony was over. They’d barely even had a chance to say goodbye.
“D’ya think she’ll be alright?” Applejack asked. “She seems pretty hurt still.”
“It’s only been a week,” Twilight said from next to the beds. She had their suitcases lined up and was floating various belongings into them. “Everything I’ve read says the grieving process takes months. She needs time.”
“But she’ll get better, right?” Pinkie asked. She looked better than the first day Rarity had seen her, but her voice still lacked its usual pep.
Nopony answered. Eventually, Rarity cleared her throat and spoke.
“So she’s just going back to the team, and that’s that? I thought they’d give her more time.”
“I spoke with Spitfire about that,” Twilight said. “I said we’d make room for Dash in Ponyville. She seems to think Dash will get better faster if she goes back to her usual routine.”
Her usual routine? That didn’t seem too likely to Rarity, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. Judging by their expressions, the others were thinking it too.
“Did anypony see Soarin’s family there?” Applejack asked. “Ah thought they’d be up front.”
Fluttershy answered, the first time since arriving back at the hotel that she’d said a word. “There might have been some family in the crowd, but they wouldn’t have been near the front. Pegasus funerals are mostly for friends.”
“But...” Rarity tried to form a coherent question, but found she couldn’t. The concept of a friends-only funeral, with no family members, was simply too incredible. She stared at Fluttershy in incomprehension.
“Pegasi aren’t like unicorns or earth ponies,” Fluttershy continued. Her chin rested on her folded hooves, and she carefully avoided their gazes. “When a pegasus foal grows up, they leave the nest. They don’t... um... family bonds aren’t as strong.”
Impermanent. The word always seemed to tag along with pegasi. From their flighty character to their cloud houses, pegasi never seemed as stable as the other tribes. She thought suddenly of Fluttershy holed up in her home with all her animal friends.
“But ah’ve known Dash for years,” Applejack said. She looked as confused as Rarity felt. “She’s the closest friend ah’ve got. Heck, she’s the Element of Loyalty!”
“Oh yes, friends are the most important thing to pegasi. Families are... they’re just something you have.” Rarity had never seen a look of such sadness on Fluttershy’s face.
They departed Cloudsdale the next morning. It was six months before Rarity saw any of them again.