Sensation (SFW Version)

by Vivid Syntax

Prologue

"No! No no no no no!" I dive, scratching desperately at the air. The quill's red feather brushes tenderly on my hoof, teasing me as a cold gust pushes it just out of my reach. As I stretch out my foreleg, my quill gives in to gravity, hitting the soft cloud at the same time I do. It sticks straight up in lewd defiance as it begins sinking below the cottony surface. "Oh, c'mon!" The last red fiber disappears, and I wonder if somepony far below is about to get a jab to the head.

I grumble, burying my face in the cool, pillowy fluff beneath me. My frustration is suddenly winning out over my fear of falling half a mile to my death. "Damn it." I run a tan hoof through my spikey, brown-gold mane, and a few hairs get caught in my horseshoe. I look up and bring my hoof to my face to examine the new addition: a silvery piece of metal that glows with a faint white light. I tap it against the cloud, which seems solid, and hope the magic holds long enough for me to get everything I need. Cities high in the air made out of condensed vapor… Cloudsdale really isn't my kind of town.

They've got to have quills up here, though, right? Quills that don't fall through the clouds? Or do pegasi just pluck a feather out of their wings when they need one?

"Hey, good morning. Are you alright, sir?" I turn my head and see a dark purple pegasus mare land nearby. She's curvy but none too graceful as she trots up to me. Pretty face, but that mane looks like it could use a good brushing. Eh, a six. "You look like you could use a hoof. Are you lost?" Seven for friendliness.

"Nah, I'm okay," I reply, lowering my voice a bit. I stand and shake little wisps of cloud out of my mane and tail. They curl around themselves before disappearing into the ether. "I'm on my way to an interview, and I just lost my quill. Didn't bother getting everything enchanted." I lift up my hoof to show her the horseshoe. "Just the basics."

She nods and smiles. "I was wondering about that. We don't get many earth ponies up here, but if you need a quill…" She trails off, turning her head and bringing the tip of her wing to her muzzle. She bites down and winces as she pulls out a feather. Huh. So they really do just yank one out.

Her eyes find mine, and she mumbles a bit through her gritted teeth, holding the new pen, "…here yuh go! It even matches yuhr shirt!" I take it from her, tucking it deep into my breast pocket. The deep purple hue matches exactly, and it even has some of the same black highlights. "Anything else you need?"

My shoulders relax, and the rest of my frustration melts away at her soft voice. "Actually, yeah, if you wouldn't mind." She leans in slightly. I give her a warm smile and bright eyes. "I've never been to Cloudsdale before, and I'm looking for Soarin' Windsong's place."

Her expression immediately collapses and twists around, like I'd vomited right in front of her. "Oh. Should have guessed." All the cheeriness has drained from her voice. She speaks flatly. "I might need that quill back." Touchy, touchy. Five. "I mean, haven't all you stupid reporters gotten enough? It's been months!"

I'm prepared for this kind of treatment, though. "No, no, it's alright." I fumble around in my pocket again, careful not to knock the quill out this time. I take out the lanyard with the laminated card and slip it over my head. "See? I've got a day pass to the Estates."

She scans my credentials, probably looking for the word "Press" somewhere. She's not going to find it. "Okay, fine." She points to her left. "Follow this road for two more blocks, then take a left onto Firefly Lane." Her voice is squeaky and annoyed, but at least she's helping me. "You'll see a big sign after about a half mile. If you start getting to downtown, you've gone too far."

Best behavior. I need to be the nicest pony she's ever met. The cognitive dissonance will drive her nuts. "Thank you so, so much! I really appreciate your help." I reach out a hoof for her to shake, a wide smile dominating my face. "If there's anything I can do to return the favor, please don't hesitate to ask."

She looks at my hoof like it's dirty and pauses before giving it a quick shake. "Yeah, whatever. Just don't be an asshole." She doesn't wait for a reply. Instead, she leaps into the air and dashes away.

The sun's barely up. I'm a bit early, and getting to Soarin's place sounds pretty easy, so I can take my time. The chilly clouds crunch under my hooves as I trot along. I take a deep breath of the crisp air, appreciating the clean scent until I start coughing wildly. Guess my lungs don't like the cold air as much as I thought. It's not as bad as the Whinnyapolis winters I'm used to, but the temperature is still just shy of comfortable. At least the slowly rising sun is warming my flank as I move through the rich district.

Sure, the houses all look spacious with nice, big yards, but I don't think I could stand almost every building and lawn shining a blinding white. My eyes lock onto a red building a few blocks down. It's clearly still made of clouds. Some kind of magic to keep it colorful, maybe? It must be expensive, whatever it is.

Nodding at a road sign, I turn down Firefly Lane. A black pegasus with an orange mane and tail gives me a funny look from the sky, floating through the air near me. He doesn't think I see him. It should probably bother me, but right now I'm more distracted by the fear of falling through these clouds again. I cast a glance his way, and the pegasus rapidly focuses his attention elsewhere before turning back to me again. He speaks up with a gruff but muted voice. "Uh, oh, hello!" He waves. "Welcome to Cloudsdale, City of… Clouds!" He's cute. "You, uh, you moving in?"

"Nope, just visiting," I shout, trying to be clear over the gusts of wind. "Lovely place, though. And lovely ponies, too. I could see staying for a while."

"Yeah, it's a good town. It helps to have the right equipment, though." He jerks his head back towards his wings.

I make no effort to hide the fact that I'm checking him out. He doesn't seem to notice yet. I like big dumb guys. An eight. "You've certainly got some nice equipment on you."

"Thanks, I–" He stops moving forward and hovers in place. He's grinning, but it's plastic, artificial. I swear I can hear something snap in his brain. "...Thanks." He looks around, seemingly lost in his own town, before he blurts out, "Uh, have a great stay!" and darts off in a completely different direction. Poor guy. I shouldn't have needled him.

That's what I do, though – dig deep and get at the details other ponies can't or won't discuss. No point in denying who I am or what I've got plastered on my flank.

Interviewing Soarin', though… My heart aches a bit as I saunter along, eyes cast downward. This is going to be a tough one. I'm excited to meet him, sure, but I've read the story over and over again from the tabloids and newspapers, and it's never easy to process. Hearing it directly from the source might be too much.

Still, it's a story to tell, and if I can convince him to jump on a book deal, everypony will be better off. I did a lot of interviews back when my work was… less savory, but plenty of the interviewees said it helped to get everything off their chests. I can only hope Soarin' will be the same way, and Celestia knows I need a big break if I want to try to this whole independent writer thing. I'm already halfway there, right? As far as I know, he hasn't accepted interviews in months.

Nopony can blame him for turning recluse. Hell, I'd probably do the same, at least to get the tabloids off my case. For this long, though?

My badge dangles from my neck, dancing around with every step I take. I stop and recoil at it, thinking about what I could have become. I shake the thoughts out of my head and pick up my pace.

There's the sign. "Sunrise Estates," it reads in curvy, orange letters, and as I get closer, the finer details come into view. How'd they install a wooden sign up here? Never doubt the ingenuity of ponykind when there's a bit to be made, I guess.

For a moment, I wonder why there isn't a gate – isn't this supposed to be some kind of fancy community for the stars? "Wait… Duh." I slap myself on the forehead as a white pegasus zooms over my head and into the compound. "Three dimensions up here. I gotta get used to that."

Failing to see a road, I shrug to myself and walk over a small hill (is it still called a hill?) and towards the houses. A voice booms at me from above. "You! Earth pony!" Looking up, I see a grey pegasus in a blue shirt and hat coming in for a landing. He drops himself onto the cloud just in front of me, blocking my path. I see my reflection as I read his jet-black nametag: Officer Safe Haven. "You lost?" Not a fan of that push broom mustache.

My heart skips a beat, and I curse myself for being so nervous. "No sir, officer." I take the lanyard off my neck and pass him my badge. "I'm here to see Mr. Windsong."

Safe Haven raises an eyebrow at me before examining my badge. "Huh." He turns it over, studying the signature on the back. He nods. "He ain't much for having visitors lately." I catch the badge after he tosses it back. He takes out a small notepad, flipping to a page in the middle. "How'd you get his permission?"

Big smile now. "I sent him a letter and asked nicely. It's amazing what a little courtesy can get you." It also helps when your cousin's a trainer for the Wonderbolts, but it just sounds better this way.

"Yeah. Okay." For a moment, he stares at me with a protruding lower lip. He rolls his tongue around his cheek and finally points to a nearby building, a medium-sized condo that's, of course, made of clouds. "First building on the right. You have a fine day." He takes off.

I look over at the Windsong residence, and my stomach drops. I make my way towards the modest home, trying to set my head straight. "Ok, no big deal. It's just the make-or-break interview of your career. He's just a pegasus, just a regular pony like everyone else… except he's a Wonderbolt. And he's been hounded by every other interviewer this side of Manehattan. And he's not in the best shape. Just don't stare at his legs." I raise an eyebrow. "And stop talking to yourself before he thinks you're a lunatic. Stop talking, and don't stare at his legs."

I'm there. After a quick tap of the doorknocker, I hear an energetic, singsong voice answer. "Coming! Ow!" I hear some hoofsteps accompanied by a soft squeaking that sounds like the wheels of a neglected tractor. The hoofsteps are arrhythmic, unnatural. Don't stare at his legs.

The door opens, and I'm greeted by the smiling face of Soarin' Windsong, stunt flier extraordinaire. Morning light shines through the door onto his buff, toned body, showing off the physique of somepony that's no stranger to athletics. His soft, light blue coat hugs him tightly, unlike the wild, electric blue mane that even now looks to be blowing in an unseen breeze. He looks so solid, except for his two front legs, which shake in the metal braces that struggle to hold him up. The cold steel wraps around each of his joints and fits snugly on his hooves. "Oh, hey! You must be that reporter guy." Buck, I'm staring at his legs.

My head snaps up. "Uh, yes! Well, not reporter, really. M-more like a pony that wants to hear the real story." Am I stammering? C'mon! Deep breath. "You can call me Syn." Without thinking, I offer a hoof for him to shake.

…Shit.

He just chuckles. "Heh heh. Syn, huh?" He raises an eyebrow at me, then coolly gives me a bro-hoof. Phew. "Well, if you've got sins, then why don't you come in for a confession?" His voice has a playful, sexy tone to it. Huh. He's living up to his reputation, at least.

It's probably best to play along for now. I can't be too off-putting if I want him to open up. I lower my voice and give him a sly wink. "Business before pleasure, slick. I'm not the only one with secrets."

Stepping inside, I scope out as much as I can. His entryway is decorated like a jock's dorm room – Spartan except for a few awards and some Wonderbolts paraphernalia with his face on it. I wonder if he used to have more.

Soarin' leads me to the parlor, where something is off. It takes me a moment, but I notice a pattern: almost everything in the room looks like it's been broken and reassembled. The couch has a foreleg rest that looks off-kilter, an ornate lamp shows several large cracks, and one of the sides of the bookcase is a slightly different color than the rest. On one wall, there's a fixture for a large picture, but nothing hangs from it. Actually, the only picture in this room is on a small table by the couch, showing Soarin' being hugged by an older, cerulean pegasus that I don't recognize.

The furnishing might be weathered, but it's a nice space. I take a seat and set up my interview materials, noting that my chair has a loose leg. "Nice place you've got here." I'm, at most, thirty percent sarcastic.

Soarin' lies down on the couch opposite me, rolling his eyes. "Psh, hardly. I'm selling it as soon as I can." His voice is a soothing baritone, but it has nasally, slightly whiny quality to it, like a child's. "You interested?" He shifts uncomfortably, obviously trying to position his metal braces.

"Heh, no way." I hold up a hoof, showing off the glowing horseshoe. "Don't think I could ever get used to wearing these all the time."

"Eh, it's not as hard as you might think." The braces creak into place, and he exhales. "So, Mister 'Business Before Pleasure,' I don't like waiting. What do you want to know?"

I take out my notepad and new quill and give him my full attention. "Well, everything."

He smirks, and his voice becomes mockingly enthusiastic. "My name is Soarin' Windsong. I'm a pegasus pony, which means I have these things on my back called wiiiiings." He nods back to them. "They help me fly."

I chuckle. "Smart ass."

"Well, when you ask a stupid question..." He gestures with a hoof and rolls his eyes again.

I refocus and ignore the fact that I didn't actually ask a question. He's putting up walls. It's not surprising, I guess. He's been through a lot, but I don't want to beat around the bush and get some watered-down version of events that I could read in any of the papers. I lean forward a bit, maintain eye contact, and adopt a soft but serious tone. "Soarin', what happened these past several months?"

He points at me, smiling. "Bro, you've got a lot to learn about interviews. I'd think an author would know how to at least read a paper once in a while." I wonder if he's deflecting the question on purpose. It's probably just the way he deals with discomfort. No matter.

I continue to look at him, my expression blank, quill and ink ready to take notes. Few ponies open up right away, especially to a stranger. It's important to know what to say to get them to talk, but it's even more important to know when to remain silent and let them open up on their own.

Soarin' stares at me a moment, then shakes his head and blows air through his lips. "Dude, are we just going to have a staring contest?" I remain stoic. He raises his voice. "What, you wanna hear about the juicy details? The sex? Dirt on the team?"

I don't move.

His breathing gets heavy. "Ugh! Seriously? I've been through all of this! You think you're going to get something more scandalous than what's already out there? Good. Bucking. Luck! It's all out there already, and I don't need some asshole coming in here and judging me for it!"

I set my items on the wooden nightstand next to me, confident they won't fall through the floor. I look back at Soarin', maintaining my poker face.

His face has turned red. He takes a deep breath and looks down at the floor. "Sorry. It's… been tough lately. It never gets easier, and I'm still not really sure what's supposed to happen next."

I speak as gently as I can. "I imagine it's been very frustrating."

Soarin' nearly cuts me off and looks right at me. "It has! You have all these ponies watching you all the time, and they treat you like some kind of toy, and they don't care who they hurt as long as they get what they want." He trails off, casting his gaze downward again and repeating himself in a small, weak voice. "They don't care who gets hurt, as long as they get what they want." His eyes look sunken and tired. He rubs one front hoof with the other and speaks without looking back up at me. "So, what do you wanna know?"

I pick up my notepad and quill again, then calmly say, "Everything."

Soarin' takes a deep breath and a short pause. "It started in a hotel room."