Love Letters Written on the Back of a Star Chart

by Dawn Stripes

Valen and Marigold (part 2)

It was a quarter before dawn here in Columbus. This was a magical time of day, when the unlit sky unveiled with a snowy blush. If you were in a tower high enough, you could find some semblance of peace even in the depths of the city—and pretend, within that momentary quiet, that the only sound was puffy clouds tumbling their way to the sea.

Valen was in a tower high enough. He’d trained himself to wake up at exactly this time every morning, and so when the carpet beneath the window began to glow, he had just finished sailing gingerly upstream to consciousness. No matter how much the parts of his body wanted to stretch, he took care not to move then. Only his heavy-lidded eyes, which were allowed an exception, flittered open and roved about his surroundings.

There was a pony draped over him. Specifically, a pegasus mare with a yellow coat and a caramel mane. Nice figure, too. From the way felt like warm skin under his hand, he noticed right away how well her coat was brushed. She had a luxuriously lengthy tail; it went right off the far end of the bed. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, a touch of mascara on those big eyelids.

This was clearly a mare who took care of herself. A beauty by any standard—ponies would also have considered her pretty, with a full, round flank and a spine curved like the most sonorous violin. Definitely not one of those unicorns who settled for humans or griffons because she had a short horn. The fact that she was a pegasus alone made her quite a catch for a human.

Her muzzle and forelegs were nestled in the crook of Valen’s outstretched arm, which presently served as her pillow. One of her hind hocks wrapped over his knee. But that was no matter. Arranging an Indiana Jones-like switch between his limb and the genuine pillow, he slid his body parts away from her warmth one by one. He was easily able to slip out of bed without waking her.

For a long moment, he stood over her, looking down at the small, wrinkled space filled by a pony on his off-white bed. He was tempted by the thought of what it would feel like to run a kiss all the way down that fantastic spine. Very tempted. But no. There was a time for all good things to come to an end, including love.

Instead he restricted himself to drinking in her soft, snore-like whinnies. A deep sense of satisfaction filled him to the pores. There was nothing more peaceful than a sleeping pony. This was a perfect moment. If only he smoked.

“Another satisfied customer,” he whispered. And, having indulged himself in this one-liner, he tiptoed around the room to get dressed.

In minutes he was out on the blue-grey street with a frankfurter in one hand and a scalding cup of Starbucks in the other. He even considered getting a newspaper, just for the old-fashioned charm it would have had on such a brisk brick morning. Columbus scurried around him like a rat lost in a maze of its own devising, but he floated on a cushion of air. Memories from last night were filtering back, slow as dripping coffee. He strolled just above the sidewalk, savoring the show.

It was, he reflected, terribly validating to meet a pony who decided you were right for them. That went for every species. Every species said so. Valen had once met a griffon at the embassy in New York, and he’d called Valen a lucky bastard. But what with things being so stirred up right now, humans were still a novelty item. Validation abounded. Hairless they might be, but nearly anybody could grab a Gate ticket to Canterlot and find an equine date, if they had the resolve to do it. That made it an exceptional time to be alive.

And the supply and demand was tilted in a human’s favor by the fact that surprisingly few humans capitalized on it. Most were still skittish about the idea of hooking up with an alien. Valen was lead to believe that a large chunk of the internet was enthusiastic about it—had been even before ponies arrived—but there was a lot of talk and relatively little action. Valen couldn’t understand why.

Well, he did have one theory. But for now he was keeping that to himself.

After running these pleasant thoughts a few times through his head, Valen realized that he’d been walking aimlessly in the same direction ever since leaving his dorm. He examined the street signs at the next intersection to find out if he was going the right way, and only once he’d identified his location realized that he didn’t know what the right way was. Valen let out a belly laugh, discovering that he didn’t have any plans for that afternoon. There were no classes—he hadn’t scheduled any. Only a couple credit hours this semester. He couldn’t imagine the fools who wanted to be chained to desks in a time of the world like this. They were learning about the Earth that used to be, when a whole new Earth was about to emerge.

But Valen didn’t care. He had all the world at his feet! There was a tremendous feeling, like being wind, in the awareness if he so chose, he could get on a train, or a plane, be halfway around the country, halfway around the world, on another world—by this time tomorrow. But maybe he would only wander the monuments downtown. Maybe he would try to sneak into a concert at the Lifestyle Pavillion. Or maybe he would drive to New York after all, to watch Twilight Sparkle give a lecture on the Equestrian solar system to a gaggle of wide-eyed fourth graders. Because they were in fourth grade, she seemed to believe they could understand four-syllable words. She found it hard to grasp that humans could mature so slowly compared to ponies that their minds weren’t fully developed even at fourteen years of age. So that was always a good laugh.

If he was lucky, she might even say hi. She was surprisingly casual for near-royalty. But then again, these days kept her pretty busy. Rumor had it that the Equestrian Diplomatic Core had proposed putting a Dimension Gate right inside the embassy, so that their foreign service could warp directly in from the upper rings of Canterlot. But Washington had shot that idea down real fast. Valen suspected it was because they couldn’t stand the idea of a portal to another dimension sitting inside a zone of diplomatic immunity—never mind how reasonable it was, or how unreasonable the idea that any invasion could come from Equestria. “Who’s going to hurt you?” Valen would have liked to scoff. Were dragons going to fly all the way across the pony nation, up the Canterhorn, past the Royal Guard, the Wonderbolts and Alicorn Princesses, and squeeze themselves through those glowing doors for some unintelligible reason?

But that was world politics for you. Valen counted his blessings the same as everyone else. Weren’t any tanks rolling through Appaloosa yet. That would have to do.

He could have let a day float by like this, waiting until the death of the sun to come alive. But you know what? It was five o’clock in Ponyville.

This was enough to convince his friends to break free of their dreary prisons. He made the calls. As usual, they piled into Luke’s minivan and started driving before they talked about where they wanted to go. And as it often happened, little time had gone by before they found themselves at The Little Pony.

There was practically a table reserved for them at the place. Which was good, because you could count on it being packed at any time of the day; sometimes people came from halfway around the world. It was a happening place. The only trick to it was not to let Tom find out that his establishment had become the first and only bar for humans and ponies looking to eye each other from the neck down.

The Little Pony wasn’t known for its fine dining, but Valen and his pals spread the table anyway. It saved time going to a restaurant and helped their corner of the room to look more festive. The daisy sandwiches didn’t always get eaten—they were mostly there in case somepony came over to join them—but sometimes Luke would munch on them, since he turned pretty quiet during nights at the bar.

“So you’ll like this,” said Valen, nudging Luke over a plate of jalapeño nachos. “Got a car wash lined up for this weekend.”
Luke groaned softly. Before saying anything else he downed a shot (though only of milk) and buried his head in his hands. “How many souls?”

Valen grinned in spite of Luke’s stretched face. “Three. Twins and a friend.”

Over Valen’s silent laughter Mindy leaned in—Mindy being the American name taken by an exchange student from Mechanical Engineering. A confused look perched on her nose. “But Valen, you do not have a car.”

Luke tried to wave her off, rather languidly. “Don’t ask, it’s—too depressing.”

So of course Mindy thought she was being kept out of a joke, and kept pressing while Luke kept insisting that he wouldn’t speak of it. While that was going on Valen traded winks with a sapphire-blue unicorn on the karaoke stage. And, more importantly, kept tabs on the big black stallion near the bar. It was really rather hilarious. He and Mindy had been making puppy eyes at each other for the better part of an hour already, but if left to their own devices neither of them would ever make the first move. The stallion, naturally, was waiting for the mare to come over and say hi, and of course the girl thought that she had to wait for the guy to make a move. The signals being sent were so strong that maybe everyone in the bar but them knew that they were interested in each other. Valen would grab them both and make sure they got together by the end of the night, but he just wanted to sit back and laugh at it for a little longer.

He quickly hid his hand under the table when Dave leaned in. “Here’s what I don’t get,” he said, waving his hands over the nachos. “Why don’t you start a herd? You do realize mares…er…get along? You could have—maybe five. They might even take you back to Equestria to live with them. You could live in friggin’ Equestria! What’s stopping you?”

Valen smiled indulgently. “Ah, my poor naïve compadre. You still believe that marriage by any other name would not be as dreary. There’s no more freedom in it for ponies than anywhere else in the multiverse. I mean, come on. Do you really think there aren’t any unhappy marriages in Equestria? Real talk for a second. Five mares is just five more people to fight with if you’re stuck in the same tomb for all eternity.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Silly me. So much for the power of love.”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Valen wagged his finger. “Au contraire. The only way anyone can truly give love is if they have the freedom to choose to give it. You—hey, Luke, pay attention to this one. I got the inspiration from you.” He patted his quieter friend’s silky locks. “Plus, I’m about to talk about how you go about setting up that lovely little giving situation, and you could use some—”

Suddenly, Valen sat up straight for the first time that night.

His sudden movement so jolted the nachos that the rest of the gang all tried to follow his gaze. “What?” Dave cocked his head. “See a pegasus?”

“No,” murmured Valen. Then, still staring over the heads of the other patrons, he casually added, “that was last night.”

That just might have been enough to make him sit up, but it wasn’t what Valen had found. He pointed. “There, on the bar…kind of behind the fridge.”

Dave squinted. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Or who, my erstwhile sidekick. Or who.”

Not one of them had ever seen an Equestrian zebra before. Heard of them, sure. But what reason would a zebra have to come to this world?

Through the dust and dim half-neon light, sipping some bizarre blue concoction from a globular container—it looked like a zebra. But could it be a trick of the lamplight leaking in stripes through the creaky floorboards above? Could it be the haze that made her mane look like the traditional mohawk of the Zebrahanian tribes?

No—she was a zebra.

“Strange.” Valen stroked his chin. Everyone knew he was referring to the lack of people approaching the mare to initiate conversation. She looked to be about the same age as every other Equestrian trolling this bar, and from there, it was no great leap to make an inference about her intentions. But if meeting people was her goal she was having a remarkably poor time of it. Perhaps they simply didn’t notice her. With the camouflage-like shadows on her coat, she seemed to blend into the walls almost to the point of invisibility.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Luke shrugged. “Ponies hog all the attention. The bright colors, the long hair. Not to mention the whole ‘make friends with everything’ vibe. I don’t want to say easy, but…”

Mindy raised her hands, a sure sign she was about to try and articulate something beyond the complexity of her English. “I think,” he said haltingly, “it is because ponies are most…like humans. You understand? Most like Americans. You have the same…culture.”

Valen had observed this dialogue with rapt attention. Abruptly he rose. “Think it’s time someone showed her we have humans with an open mind,” he could be heard saying as he wove between mismatched tables.

He arrived with his own drink. She was sitting in the only corner of the room with bare walls, near a blocked-off staircase to the second floor. The placement of the fridge gave it the feel of a private booth. So Valen arranged his chair with measured care, taking a distance that was respectful, but still sent a clear signal.

“Hello,” he said with a winning smile.

The first choice to make when approaching a mare was always what language to use, but Valen defaulted to Equus when he could. Most beings appreciated it when you made the effort to become fluent in their native language.

The zebra lifted her head long enough to regard him for an unblinking moment. Now that he was up close, Valen could see the fascinating texture of her coat—coarse and wild. Her ears were unpierced, but a series of intricate wooden bangles decorated both of her forelegs. In respect to the Earth custom of coming clothed, she had callously thrown on a coarse shawl which barely served to cover her back. Valen couldn’t help but wonder if she’d chosen the garment on purpose for the very fetching way it draped only inches down her flanks and sides.

He cleared his throat to pave a way onward. “My name’s Valen. I saw you were all by yourself over here, and I thought you might like some company. Would it be alright if I joined you?”

This basic, unassuming opener worked exceptionally well with ponies. Valen rarely relied on anything else. Many novices fell into the trap of thinking that ponies, with all their love of wordplay and schmaltz, would fall swooning for cheesy pickup lines. But the truth was that the American stereotype proceeded humanity across the multiverse. Furthermore, the affectionate exterior of Equestrian culture concealed many of the same fusty old ideas about love that plagued America. Any mare who smelled she was being ‘hit on’ generally turned up her nose, and you’d be lucky if she deigned to hit you with her tail on the way out.

Not that they were all uninterested in that sort of thing. Thankfully, the brave young explorers who came this far often had an open mind. In fact, Valen had been on the receiving end of some astoundingly inappropriate advances before. But it was a matter of social scripts. A guy who came on strong could be very off-putting. Save for the hardcore Earth nerds, mares expected their men to be demure and modest. Not exactly the strengths of most human guys.

But now Valen was swimming in unfamiliar territory. Zebras were an unknown quantity. He had to play it by ear, and discover how to adjust as he learned about this girl. His gut had suggested he take the initiative, and though wary, he was making the decision to trust it.

“That’s very kind,” the zebra smiled, “I wouldn’t mind.”
Then, pausing a moment, she curled her tongue a bit. “I’m Zehabel,” she added slowly, “and I’m practicing my English.”

Valen gave her a delighted look. “Why, I’m flattered. I’d be glad to help you practice.”

He snagged the first guy behind the bar and ordered an orange, which he took his time peeling. The tidbit that zebras liked the smell of oranges had come from 4chan, and was therefore more than a bit suspect, but Valen didn’t know much to go on about zebras. Besides, on some level it didn’t really matter if it was true or not. Showing the effort was what mattered.

The shavings fell in a little pile under his stained fingers. “So to what does Earth owe the pleasure of such a pretty set of stripes?”

Her blush showed up so nicely on white coat hair. “It was time to set out from my home village, and I wanted to go somewhere new. All enchantresses have to set out in their own sometime. And I was mailed by a business who said they would be interested in learning about my magic, once my apprenticeship was over. A farm of—something with a farm…”

“Pharmaceutical?”

“That’s it.”

Valen leaned back. “Neat. So you brew potions, then?”

“And lignuglyphs.”

With a sly expression, she dipped her hoof into the blue waxy substance she was drinking. Valen held still as the tip of her hoof traced a complex swirling sign on his arm. “That’s for good luck. I can put it in bark for you as soon as I unpack my tools.”

Valen pored over the dribbling symbol on his arm. “I’ll pay double!”

“Oh, no!” she shook her head. “Never charge for kindness. That’s what my master taught me.”

“Alright, but be careful. You don’t want to get taken advantage of out here.”

He kept a lookout to see if she ever eyed the drinks, in case he could offer to get her something. “By the way, aren’t zebras supposed to talk in rhyme? Is that another thing we Earthlings have got all wrong? Or are you a modern, liberal sort of zebra? Maybe you’re talking in blank verse.”

She paused for a long moment. Then, “Rhyme? In English? Are you insane? That would boil any zebra’s brain.”

Valen let himself laugh. “Zebras are fascinating! You know, it amazes me how you can live not more than a hundred miles from Canterlot and yet have a totally different understanding of magic. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“I would be most happy to teach you,” she said, placing a hoof over his forehead. “Magic can live in any heart that wishes to use it for good.”

She took another sip and then nibbled at the rind of his orange. Valen offered her half the fruit and she bit it out of his fingers. “I must confess, humans fascinate me as well. This world is so big. There’s no telling what I might find here.”

“So true.” Valen leaned back. “And I can’t help noticing you’re chosen an interesting spot to take tea. Maybe you’re thinking you’ll find more than just adventure here, hmm?”

Before she could blush again, he rapped her shoulder lightly. “It’s okay! Nothing wrong with that.”

She let out a small hum. “Perhaps,” she admitted. “But I don’t know if I should be coming here.”

“Oh, now why’s that?” Valen lifted a glass and toasted the bar. “It’s not a bad place. Folks here are pretty friendly, so if you’re worried about being the odd duck out—”

“But I’m a zebra!” she exclaimed in confusion.

He tipped the glass back. “Turn of phrase. The point is, you’re welcome here.”

“My thanks.” Zehabel’s smile flickered. “But I’ve heard…things.”

Valen rolled his eyes. “Bet you have. People say all sorts of things about this lot.”

“Well, is it true?” She hunkered down over the counter, inviting him to join her in whispering. “What they call a…one-night stand?”

Valen bought himself a moment to think by setting his glass down carefully. Then he rolled the dice by putting his hand atop her fetlock. “Do you want it to be true?” he whispered back.

She became even more furtive and hushed. “What’s it like?”

He looked into her eyes for a long moment, rubbing his thumb along the top edge of her hoof.

“Well, first you meet someone who looks nice. Just to be polite you get them something to eat—” He swallowed the rest of his orange. “—or something to drink. You spend a while talking and getting to know each other.”

“And what happens then?”

He smiled. “Ah...it depends. I’ll tell you how I like to do it. First I give the grand tour of the world. Show them a movie theater, a fast-food joint, whatever they want to see. I learn a little about where they come if I can, since it’s always so interesting, and sometimes ask to see a little magic. Pack a picnic with a whole bunch of iceberg lettuce and strawberries. Lie on a hillside for a while and watch the world go by, talking about nothing and about everything. Learn everything there is to know about them. After that go down to the river and walk side by side in the moonlight.”

He reached to take her fetlock in both hands, wrapping both sets of fingers gently around her hoof. “And once it gets nice and dark, spend the night…mm…doing whatever makes you happy.”

She was getting near to blushing again. “As close as you can get to a pony—without even falling in love!”

“Naw, naw. By then I’m in love. Head over. Well—I don't fall. That’s the trick, you know. You don’t have to wait to fall in love. You jump in all-fours first.”

She blew through her cheeks. “That…isn’t dangerous?”

A shrug. “Around here we believe in following your heart. If a little love is what your heart needs, who are you to refuse?”

She hesitated, furrowing her brow. He caught her eyes flick up and down his body.

Swiveling her seat, Zehabel rapped on the bar. A small pile of bits jangled onto the counter as Tom Silverstone came out from the back, polishing a glass.

Valen bridge-shuffled a few dollar bills down, winked at Tom, and then helped the lady down from the barstool. As they walked out he had his hand on her withers, allowing his fingers to brush against the stiff hair in her mane.

Marigold stirred in the sheets, twitching her legs and letting out little happy sounds as if there was no one around to judge her. She had just come to. But she was in no hurry to wake up. Valen’s hand was pressed against her belly and she didn’t really want it to move.

Then something tickled her back—it proved to be the corner of a pillow, but at first she thought it might be Valen trying to wake her up. The unladylike snort she let out jolted her the rest of the way to consciousness.

The womb-like warmth drained away so fast when she rolled across the bed to find it empty. It was sudden. Like falling off a cloud. Marigold scattered the sheets in a panic, coming upright with a gasp. But he was nowhere to be found. The feeling of his hand was only the leftover of a dream.

She gave a tiny whimper and pulled in her wings. They had been spread messily across the bed, so relaxed that the pinions were spread apart—revealing the most sensitive spots on her wing. Now they hugged her sides. She kicked the sheets a little further so that she could examine the whole bed, as if she thought he might be hiding under the little clump at the end.

But the bed was empty. She was right back where she’d started yesterday morning.

Why did she feel like crying? Why was she so determined not to cry? She walked as if on rice-paper ice, rolling off the bed without using wings to steady her fall.

It wasn’t exactly a mystery where he’d gone. There was even a note on the desk for her: Out early. Help yourself to any of the salad in the fridge. I keep it stocked with good pony food. Don’t open the freezer, though. There’s chicken nuggets in there. The morning bus runs back to the Gate terminal. #17. If you want to go to the bar instead, you could get on bus #18, but it’s within walking distance. Just head west down the road and you’ll sniff it out in a few blocks.
Hope your morning is as sunny as you;) ~Valen

“A smiley face,” she whispered. “How thoughtful.”

Marigold went to the refrigerator, digging her hoof under the rubber seal to pry it open. Inside were stacks of boxed salads: sixteen identical containers marked with tiny icons of a pony in a circle.

She removed one and sniffed at the plastic package. It had radishes inside, iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, with some daisy petals and garlic croutons. Marigold tore it open so that she could bring the vegetables close to her face and breathe in the smell.

Then she walked to the waste bin and methodically emptied it.

She’d thought this was what she wanted. Last night had felt so good—not in the way she was expecting, but even better. So where had it all gone? She felt…forgotten. Like one of those dresses only meant to be worn once. Valen had made her feel so special last night. But if she was special, why hadn’t he stayed?

She’d have to sneak out of this dormitory on tippy-hooves. Marigold couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing her like this, with red-rimmed eyes. And she couldn’t break down for a good cry so long as she was here in this room. That was just as unbearable. Her only choice was to gallop for the elevator and hope she could hold out long enough to flee.

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[Dawn Stripes]

The author disclaims all liability resulting from attempts made to use the techniques described above to pick up human girls