The Skyborne Dance

by TacticalRainboom

There's a Construction Project that's Deperate for Workers

Surprisingly, Applejack found that hovering was much less terrifying than standing on a ledge. Compared to lifting herself up and away from the solid, familiar earth, it felt almost normal to use her wings for moving forward through space, or flapping them to hang still in the air. In fact, pressing through the veil of cumulus had been the easiest part of all—the lack of visibility made it impossible to look down and see the ground so far below.

Rarity hovered closer. “You see? I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!"

“G-glad yer havin’ fun,” Applejack said through gritted teeth. “Let’s just find this Storm Wall before I—”

Rarity raised a brow. “Erm.”

Applejack gritted her teeth harder. “’Erm’ what?”

“I believe that may be what we’re looking for?”

As she turned her head to follow the direction that Rarity was pointing in, Applejack felt her left eye start to twitch. Rarity was pointing at one of the biggest, darkest storm clouds that Applejack had ever seen.

Applejack knew what a serious storm was supposed to look like: a horizon-spanning stripe of charcoal grey that dulled the landscape beneath with torrents of distant rain. This storm, of course, was different. It still stretched for what seemed like miles in either direction, but it wasn’t rolling in from the horizon. Instead, it was directly in front of her face, heavy and menacing, and apparently she was supposed to fly right on through it.

As if hypnotized by the menace of the Storm Wall, Applejack floated slowly forward. She came to a halt with her muzzle inches away from the surface of the storm. It was artificial for sure—the cool late-afternoon air was calm and breezy, heedless of the monster in its midst.

Rarity’s distant voice had a distinctly nervous tremor to it. “I’m sure it’s just a little bit of camouflage. They wouldn’t intentionally make this Skyborne Dance dangerous… would they?”

Applejack extended a hoof until it passed through the storm cloud’s surface. It was like dipping her hoof into a cold bath. Fine, stinging droplets of rain struck her skin in a continuous spray, at a nearly horizontal angle.

“Or perhaps there’s a way around it? It’s called the Storm Wall, so it stands to reason that there might be a Storm Door somewhere...”

Applejack tipped her hat off of her head and clenched it between her teeth, then backed up by a flap or two and took a deep, slow breath.

Rarity must have seen the determination in her eyes, because Applejack heard an alarmed voice from somewhere to the left saying “Applejack! What are you doing?”

Applejack dove headlong into the storm.

The wind immediately siezed her by the wings and wrenched her to the left like a leaf caught in a freezing gale. Panic shot through her from nose to tail and acid surged up from her stomach as the world spun into a blur of howling chaos. The rain came in solid sheets of hostile cold, the wind howled at her from every direction at once, and worst of all, there was no end in sight--there was nothing to see all around except the grey walls of the storm.

Applejack strained her wings and kicked and twisted and flailed with every muscle in her body as if she could somehow swim through the air or at least twist herself upright again, all the while clenching down on her hat so hard that her jaw started to hurt. Nothing helped, because Applejack was only a pale imitation of a pegasus, a foolish little earth pony with decorative paper fused to the small of her back. She tumbled through the air until the panic in her chest started to give way to ice-cold dread, and her muscles started to lock up from fatigue.

Something slammed into Applejack from above and squeezed her painfully around the ribs, dragging her into a climb and banking firmly to the right. In another few seconds, it was golden sunlight pouring onto her face instead of wind and rain. Then the hooves clamping her body dumped her in mid-flight. She crashed into a pillowy surface, bounced once, then tumbled to a halt.

For a too-short few moments, Applejack simply rested, buried in the warm cumulus. With a flicker of satisfaction, she realized that her hat was still clutched between her teeth.

Then the realization struck, with gut-wrenching force.

“Rarity,” Applejack muttered into the cloud. “… Rarity!”

She thrashed her way to all fours and turned an awkward about-face on the uneven surface, temporarily forgetting that she had wings.

True to its name, the storm formed a looming wall of grey, cold and opaque even where it should have been lit by the sun. Just as before, it could have been nothing more than a hanging veil of rain-gorged cloud—nothing escaped its borders, not a single gust of wind or drop of rain.

“H-hey! Somepony’s trapped in the storm!” Applejack yelled. She looked around—she was standing on a tuft of cloud that crested into a steep hillside, and there was nopony else in sight. It was just Applejack, alone, soaked from nose to tail, staring up at a huge grey wall of death. “Somepony, please, help!”

“Incoming!” yelled a mare’s voice in reply.

Two rain-soaked ponies burst free of the cloud—a soaked and wind-tousled Rarity, being carried by a pale violet pegasus. Applejack scampered out of the way as savior and passenger whipped overhead to slam into the upright part of the cloud, sending cloud-fluff flying in a violent puff of white.

The vapor cleared. The impact zone had been partially obliterated, leaving a crater around Rarity and her rescuer. The good Samareitan was still clutching Rarity with all four legs, having twisted in the air to place herself between Rarity and the cloud. After a moment, she decoupled from her passenger and hopped to a light landing.

“Everypony all right?”

“Are now, thank Celestia—and thanks to you, too!” Applejack said, her heart still fluttering with traces of adrenaline.

The stranger flicked rain from her spiked white-blue mane, then extended a hoof to help Rarity out of her sprawled position in the impact crater. “Let me guess—first time wearing Shimmer Wings?”

“Somethin’ like that,” said Applejack.

“Second time,” said Rarity. She grimaced as the unpleasant memories surfaced—first falling from the sky, now being tossed helplessly by a storm. “The first time didn’t go terribly well, either.”

The stranger chuckled. “Don’t feel too bad. It’s real different taking the Storm Wall with Shimmers on. Or…” She gave both of them a curious look. “Maybe you haven’t done it with real wings, either?”

“Can’t say I have,” said Applejack.

“Really? Then you gotta let me show you two around! Right after I give you the old blow-dry treatment.” She flexed her wings, then started to flap madly and turn tight loops around Rarity and Applejack.

“Blow-dry?” It took a moment for those words to sink in. Then Rarity shook her head rapidly, sending her still sopping mane flying. “But… Oh Celestia. Wait, wait!”

It was too late. The lavender pegasus whipped into a lavender blur that buffeted Rarity with a stiff, blustering wind from all sides, not unlike the power of the storm, only without the rain, or the darkness, or the danger—the treatment was rather pleasant, all told, if a bit overwhelming. The only problem was…

The source of the blow-dry flung herself free of the spiral and drifted to a halt. The wind died down.

“My MANE!” squealed Rarity.

“Sorry!” the mare said hurriedly. “Thought you would want to dry off!”

And now Rarity had two reasons to keep her eyes pointed straight ahead. Having a hornless forehead was bad enough, but at least she could still feel the reality of her intact horn. As for her mane, there was no escaping the fact that it now looked and felt like a frizzy, wind-ravaged disaster. Rarity took a deep breath, straightened her neck, and put on a practiced, diplomatic smile.

“Yes, of course, very thoughtful of you.” She raised a hoof to touch her mane, and immediately regretted it as she felt the puff of fuzz where there ought to have been a smooth, perfect curl.

Applejack shook out her mane a few times, then contentedly plopped her hat back onto her head. “I’m just glad to be warm and dry.” The jewelry vendor had been right, Rarity thought—the stripe of rainbow running through Applejack’s long mane made for a nice accent, even if it was largely obscured by that clunky brown hat that the farm girl insisted on wearing all the time.

As Rarity looked Applejack over, Applejack turned toward Rarity and chuckled. “The snow-feathers kinda make you look like a peacock.”

Rarity cringed, then gave their would-be hostess a pleading look. “Do you think you could help me in acquiring the use of a brush?”

“Hmm,” the mare said.

“No need for a complete fashion array! Just a brush. For my mane.” Rarity gave in to temptation and touched her mane again. It was still fuzzy. And, apparently, it was also fanned out like a peacock’s tail. “Please,” she added, letting just a shade of desperation slip into her tone.

“Hmm,” the mare repeated. “I… don’t really know.”

Rarity tapped her front hooves restlessly. “Just a simple brush?”

She took the question with an alarmingly casual shrug. “Well, you’ll probably find somepony who’s into that stuff where we’re going. But seriously, let me give you the tour!” She flapped twice, lifted off, and started to slowly climb until she was hovering overhead. “C’mon!”

With that, she disappeared over the crest of the cloud’s hill.

“I think I know her,” Applejack said quietly.

“Oh? Who is she?” said Rarity.

Applejack sniffed. “Her name’s Cloudchaser. She came to Ponyville for the tornado. And again with her boyfriend Apple Cinnamon for my family reunion.”

Rarity swallowed. “Oh.”

“You coming?” called a voice from the other side of the hill.

“Right behind you!” replied Rarity.

---

Compared to the heart of Cloudsdale, the view from inside the Storm Wall was… less beautiful, perhaps, but far more overwhelming. There were no streets; there wasn’t even a main artery of pony traffic. There was a natural-looking cloudscape that bunched into peaks and dropped into sharp cliffs, and there were buildings that rose seamlessly from the clouds or floated on cumulus cushions of their own without any regard for the lay of the “land.”

The party of three touched down on a “hilltop.”

“I’ll never get tired of this,” Cloudchaser said. “This is the fifth Dance I’ve been to in a row, and my year was two years ago.”

Applejack stood transfixed by the view, her brow faintly furrowed as if she was having trouble taking it all in. “How do y’all even find your way around, the way it all floats willy-nilly? It’s makin’ me dizzy.”

Cloudchaser snickered. “Yeah, I know, the place is big, and traditional architecture can be confusing. My secret is not bothering to find the same party twice. You’re only here for six days, so you might as well see as much as you can in one run, right?”

“Ya really love it here, huh?” said Applejack, still staring out across the distance.

Cloudchaser responded by pursing her lips together in an airy whistle. “Just you wait. Whatever you’ve heard about the Dance, what’s actually here is better.”

“Do you think you could find us a place to rest, before we begin our little tour?” said Rarity. “And a brush, of course.”

“Oh, right, yeah, of course.” Cloudchaser nodded, then lifted off and drifted the first few lengths forward. “I’ll help you find one of the ‘racks, and we can find a brush there. But after that we’re gonna go out and have some fun, yeah?”

“Racks?” said Applejack.

“Sounds lovely,” said Rarity. “Lead on!”

---

Rarity had to admit that Applejack had a point—flying through the jumble of buildings was dizzying, especially with so many of their fellow pegasi swishing past in every direction and at every angle. It quickly became apparent that the ponies responsible for the layout considered “up” and “down” to be cardinal directions. The sound of pony activity emanated from some of the buildings—laughter and loud conversation, mostly, along with the occasional lilt of music.

They flew along in relative silence for a short time, and then Applejack piped up with a question. “Why wouldja set up that crazy Storm Wall but keep it all clear above our heads?”

Rarity floated closer to Applejack, in order to elbow her. Applejack shot a sidelong glare and kept floating along behind Cloudchaser.

“Well, it’s not like any cloudwalking tourists are going to fly out here and look in from above,” Cloudchaser said.

“They certainly wouldn’t want to fly through the wall,” said Rarity thoughtfully.

Applejack didn’t glare this time, but her mouth took on a distinctly tight, unhappy shape.

Cloudchaser laughed. “Yeah, probably not. Someone told me that in the old days it was to keep out really young and really old ponies. Now I guess it just makes trouble for amateurs with Shimmers.” And she turned and winked.

“Sorry to be a bother,” said Rarity, a bit timidly.

Cloudchaser spun a 180 in the air and started floating backwards so that she could blow a raspberry and flick her hooves in Rarity’s direction. “Oh, don’t give me that! Helping newcomers out is just as traditional as everything else around here. Anyway, we’re here. Home away from home—the ‘racks.”

She turned to face forward again, and dropped onto the front landing of one of the largest enclosed structures, and probably the single least attractive—a boxy thing with rows of identical windows along its two stories. It was easily six times the breadth of Carousel Boutique, and had a rectangular entrance wide enough to admit five ponies walking side by side.

“Of course,” Rarity muttered. “Barracks.”

The room beyond the front door was large, square, and perfectly featureless save for a desk in the far corner, attended by a blue-on-blue stallion with his forehead resting on the surface and a paperback book laying open next to his outstretched hooves. Behind him, the wall opened into a perpendicular hallway.

“Hey, Blues!” Cloudchaser called out as she trotted up to the desk. “You’re volunteering?”

“Blues” planted both hooves on the desk and lifted his upper body into an upright position with a low grunt. “Uhn. Hey, Cloudchaser.” He nodded, still rubbing his eyes. “Yep. Three days. My roommate talked me into it.”

Cloudchaser clicked her tongue. “Sucks.”

“Nah, I’ve done it before. It’s kind of fun seeing everypony who passes through, and Clear Skies has the morning shift, so I don’t have to wake up early or anything.” He leaned sideways to look past Cloudchaser. “Who’re your friends? Whoa—nice wings!”

Blues waved. Applejack and Rarity awkwardly waved back.

“Two first-timers,” said Cloudchaser. “Rescued them both in the Storm Wall.”

She turned and shot her two ‘friends’ a smile.

Blues tilted his head toward the hallway. “The lounge is pretty much empty if that’s what you brought them here for. Rooms are on the left.”

Cloudchaser shook her head. “We’re just here to fold our wings for a minute before we go exploring.”

“And I was looking for where I might find a brush,” said Rarity.

“A brush, uh… I guess I could lend you mine. It’s here somewhere.” Blues’s head disappeared behind the counter.

Rarity tapped both forehooves nervously. The chance to finally sort out her mane was so close. “Are brushes difficult to find at this event?”

“Well, not impossible,” Blues replied from behind the desk. “I used to like the groundbound look too, back when I played shows in Canterlot.” An age-worn plastic brush surfaced from behind the desk, followed by Blues’s head. “There you go.”

“Groundbound look? ” Rarity echoed. “’Groundbound’ clothing as well, then?”

“Definitely!” said Blues, nodding. “You’d be amazed what some ponies are willing to drag through the Storm Wall. I see a lot of ponies sharing luggage so that they can team-carry it.”

“Goodness knows how we suffer for fashion,” Rarity said absentmindedly as she angled the clumsy tool in her hooves. Brushing without being able to hold the brush telekinetically was more difficult than she cared to admit, and she couldn’t even imagine how she was going to get to her tail. She very nearly made the mistake of removing the frozen lightning pin and Twilight’s enchanted clip from her mane.

Blues tilted his head as Rarity’s mane started to take on a semblance of its proper shape. “Speaking of fashion, you look a lot like a designer I liked.”

Rarity froze momentarily, then continued to carefully run the borrowed brush through her mane, not daring even to turn and make eye contact with Blues.

“Do I, now?”

“No joke—you could be a cloudborn clone of her. Uh, that’s a good thing. She was really beautiful.”

Rarity wasn’t sure if she wanted to blush or run. She decided to fall back on her disarming smile and a skillful flutter of the eyelashes. It worked—Blues blinked and swayed slightly, telltale signs of a stallion caught off-guard by Rarity’s wiles. Rarity dared to approach the desk and its attendant with lowered, half-lidded eyes.

“Well, if this designer of yours is so very lovely, then I’m delighted to hear such a lovely compliment from such a fine stallion.”

Unfortunately, Blues almost immediately regained his balance and returned Rarity’s sly look with one of his own.

“I didn’t catch your name. It’s obviously not Rarity, unless you really are her clone.”

Rarity nearly doubled over as she accidentally yanked at a knot in her mane. She felt that if she had been drinking tea, she would have spit it out.

“I am Elusive,” she said, much too quickly for her own liking. “And my friend is, erm…”

Blues rolled his eyes. “And mysterious, and beautiful, I’m sure. I let you use my brush, don’tcha think I’ve earned your name?”

“No, no,” said Rarity. “My name is Elusive.”

He rolled his eyes again. “I’ll just call you Elusive. And who’s your friend?”

Rarity flattened her ears. “No, honestly! I—“

“Uh… my friends call me AJ,” Applejack said. Her eyes were darting again. “Just AJ.”

Blues shrugged. “Well, both of you should come back when the sun’s setting and my shift’s ending. This place has a real nice lounge.”

Cloudchaser leaned over the table to cut in. “Whoa whoa whoa. I saw them first.”

Rarity pulled the brush through her mane one last time. There was no chance of properly drawing it into its usual smoothness, but at least it wasn’t giving any more resistance in the form of knots. She interrupted Cloudchaser and Blues by placing the brush onto the desk. “Thank you, mister Blues,” she said. “Shall we be going, miss Cloudchaser? You did ‘see us first,’ after all.”

“Thought you’d never ask!” Cloudchaser said happily. “The first couple days and the last day are always the best. I dunno about you two, but I want to start this year off on the right hoof. You ready to go?”

“You go ahead,” Applejack said with a very pointed look at Rarity. “I’m gonna get started on, you know, the reason we CAME here.”

Rarity grimaced as her mind raced for some way to excuse Applejack’s impatience, but both Blues and Cloudchaser just laughed cheerfully.

“Eager to get started, huh?” Blues said. “You know, whatever you’re looking for, following Cloudchaser around is a pretty good bet.”

“I’ll be fine,” Applejack said with an irritated flick of her ears.

Cloudchaser gave a low whistle. “I don’t doubt that! Maybe we’ll even run into each other out there, yeah?”

“Reckon we might,” Applejack said. Rarity saw her suppressing a frown. “Have fun, ‘Elusive.’” And with that, Applejack trotted her way out the front door of the barracks, spread her wings, and floated out of sight.

“Don’t mind her,” Rarity said placatingly. “She doesn’t take well to being patronized. I, on the other hoof, would love a guided tour!”

“Awesome,” said Cloudchaser. “First things first—I’m hungry. Let’s find a stand or the mess cloud. If that’s cool with you?”

Rarity nodded. “Lead on!”

Comments

[djthomp]

AJ make be a silly pony, but she doesn't lack boldness.

[TacticalRainboom]

4395490

Curiosity: What are you expecting?

[John Tannius]

If I'm thinking right, there are some species of dragon that do something similar. Of course you usually find this behavior with insects or a few species of birds or possibly fish.