Blueblood

A cloud was on all Ponies' minds, and wailing went the weather;

Yeah, a sick cloud upon Equestria's soul when we were foals together.

Magic had lost its wonder, and flight it's joy forgot,

The earth had grown brown and dull, but you and I had not.

Round us in antic order such crippled vices came-

Tricks devoid of laughter, betrayal without shame.

Like that white disk of midnight, which lit our aimless gloom,

They all brandished lies and avarice as proudly as a plume.

Kindness was called weakness, no friend's appeal was rung;

Oh, how old Equestria was when you and I were young!

Lonely souls had twisted into shapes not to be named,

And were ashamed even of Friendship! But we were not ashamed.

Weak ponies we were, though foolish, not thus we failed, not thus;

When Night and chaos blocked the heavens they had no hymns from us.

Foals as we were -- our forts of sand, though fragile as could be,

High as they went we piled them up to break that bitter sea.

Such fireworks as we could bring the wise all thought absurd;

But when the sun was hidden, our sparklers lit the world.

***~***

It has been over 900 years since the Nightmare Moon was banished, but it feels lately that the choking miasma of fear that pervades the darkest of our dreams hangs closer over Equestria than ever.

Princess Celestia has been seen less and less often these past 15 years or so, and when seen, is rarely cheerful. A real sense of despair, perhaps, of ever seeing her beloved sister again has begun to set in. The mood is infectious all throughout society; all actions seemed only governed by a routine determined from birth. A sense of destiny about one's special talent has been replaced by a kind of fatalism, the whole universe seeming like an enormous, unfeeling clockwork machine.

In truth, Equestria is under attack, but not by monsters of myth, but of mind. Pessimism, destructive anarchism, petty pride and avarice all seek to eat away at the Ancient Harmony.

And yet, through the cracks in the world, not all that is seen is darkness. Humor, Charity, Love, Steadfastness, Truth, these have a power altogether separate from any artifact. And maybe there might just be a little Magic left in Friendships we once knew...

***~***

Bit of a teaser for an RP Crossover that had been brewing in my head for quite some time, now. Specifically, I'm crossing it over with the Turn-of-the-century novels by G.K. Chesterton: Manalive, The Man Who Was Thursday, The Flying Inn. The main idea behind it is that some element of what seems fantastic or absurd breaks into a mundane world to turn it upside down, only for the characters to realize that it actually turned the world the right way up.

That's basically the idea here, of making the background of Equestria almost as mundane, and allowing to become almost as dark as the real world, but having something strange (i.e. something not out of place in MLP:FiM) shake things up, so to speak.

Anypony interested?

Like a sudden firework, all the remains of nervous tension in Earth Writer's brain exploded into joy when Sugar Apple squealed her affirmation and hugged him. The stallion was quick to return the embrace with enthusiasm. Earth probably wasn't any more sure than Sugar Apple what it actually meant, all things considered, to be somepony's special somepony, but he also was as equally certain of who he would trust to lead him to an honest answer.

After all, as the stallion had said by the story display, every couple had to work out their own story. For the two ponies on the grass, their story was already rather unique in its plot and pacing, as Sugar couldn't help but comment on. Earth laughed, not minding the joke or thinking it out of place. As far as he was concerned, a sense of humor was a very healthy thing to have in a relationship. "[colour=#8b4513]Hm, you're right. You'll have to remind me after dinner, so we have a second take at it. I certainly won't mind.[/colour]" He said with a wink. The unicorn didn't bother to deny that he was being silly today, everything just seemed to suit this mood.

"[colour=#8b4513]Speaking of dinner[/colour]," He said, starting to get to his feet, "[colour=#8b4513]Your cousin's restaurant should be somewhere near. I seem to recall that we planned to drop by at some point. I owe him a debt of gratitude for suggesting this date, at the very least.[/colour]"

Having by this point cottoned on to the fact that his pain-easing prattling was beginning to annoy his guide, and therefore drawing the not-unreasonable conclusion that attempting to not aggravate her further would do more to lessen pain in the long run, Psmith resolved to tone down just a bit.

He remained quiet as he readjusted his hoof more comfortably, and the now-trio set off in the direction of the hospital. The journey was, as Babs had predicted, not all that long, but it was enough that little jolts of pain were beginning to shoot up the unicorn's foreleg again. This was getting quite unbearable, so he piped up again, in an effort to make his mind focus on something else. "[colour=#996699]Comrade Long Drive, I don't suppose you would very much mind giving us the story of your life? How is it that a sensible looking colt as you came to be lugging a golf bag far from its native land?"[/colour]

As kisses went, it was good. Residual sugar rush notwithstanding, Earth Writer was able to remain as gentle as his date; he noticed that she hadn't quite cleared all of the frosting from her lips. Or maybe that was him. In any case, a sweet taste over and above the delight of the kiss itself was present.

"[colour=#8b4513]Mmmm...[/colour]" It was with reluctance that the stallion broke off, but everypony has to breathe sometime. A smile played across his lips as he opened his eyes. By now, he was well and truly besotted with the pegasus besides him, and if the wings were any indication, there must have been some return of the sentiment. "[colour=#8b4513]I somehow feel that I should have asked this before, since I have to confess I've already been thinking of you as such... but, would you be my special somepony?[/colour]"

There was still a trace of nerves about the unicorn as he asked that question. On the one hand, halfway through a first date seemed like an early time to ask. But on the other hand, he had been unconsciously thinking of Sugar Apple like that since they'd set the date. Maybe it was the dramatic way in which they had meet; that sort of thing tends to forge strong connections in shorter time that usual. In any case, Earth Writer was a mentally honest sort, and didn't want to fall into a habit of thought that had only an ambiguous connection with reality.

The exhilaration of the race and sugar coursing through Earth Writer's veins was giving way to a deep calm, resting upon the conviction that there was no place he would rather be right now that here on the grass in a Canterlot Park, with Sugar Apple right beside him. There came with that calm a kind of excitement, not the kind of excitement from running or rushing, but from staying absolutely still, perhaps in anticipation of something wonderful.

Right now, though, the stallion wasn't spending any mental effort analyzing his feelings; he had a pretty mare to focus on! He smiled as she booped him on the nose, chuckling softly as he looked on on the grass stains he'd picked up. "[colour=#8b4513]Well, I certainly know now.[/colour]"

And then she scooted closer to him, brushing his cutie mark and looking at him through lidded eyes, and he felt that still excitement swell like a cresting wave and take his breath away with it.

All the times he'd gone to kiss her before had been more or less surprises, but now that Sugar Apple was expecting it, the act seemed somehow more... significant? Daunting? Earth Writer mayn't have been sure of the words, but of the deed, he was. "[colour=#8b4513]Alright then...[/colour]" Reaching out a hoof to her mane, the stallion leaned in to kiss her, this time full on the lips.

Psmith put on a pained expression when Babs told him to shut up. He had been, at that point, only been trying to help, after all. However, he took the hint, and managed to stay quiet for a full 20 seconds. That alone was a heroic effort for the colt, as Babs' quick march up to Long Drive had jostled Psmith's sprained hoof quite alarmingly, sending jolts of pain up and down his foreleg. The unicorn only managed to maintain his facial composure by surreptitiously biting down on his lower lip, and sucking hard. This produced a sound that managed to be even more annoying than his prattling.

At the end of those 20 seconds, however, he could take no more. "[colour=#996699]Quite right, quite right! We applaud your wisdom and perspicaciousness, comrade. The cry goes 'round the city streets, 'Babs is stuffed with common sense! She gets to the center of any problem you present.' As a friend, I must agree; the best way to cease being lost is to ask for directions to the desired destination. For example, I am injured, and rather than walk about on a sprained hoof, I rely on Comrade Babs to guide me to the palace of hospice and healing, where it may be properly cared for. If you ask politely, there is little doubt you shall find a similarly reliable friend.[/colour]" The words all came out in a rush, leaving Psmith breathing deeply, and feeling little better from the recent jostling.

It was probably an unusual sight for onlookers, but then again, many such scenes must have been played out all over Equestria that day. After all, if a pony wasn't willing to make a foal of himself for love, he probably wasn't serious about the whole thing.

Well, in that case, no one could accuse either Earth Writer or Sugar Apple of insincerity. He was laughing right along with her, all his nervousness from waiting at the train station dissipating into the afternoon air. He shook his mane after the mare had ruffled it, a few grass blades dislodging themselves from the black locks as he did so. "[colour=#8b4513]Oh, you were always sweet enough to live up to yours, Sugar.[/colour]"

That was possibly the sappiest thing the stallion could have said under the circumstances, and he regretted nothing. He gave a deep happy sigh as he flopped down on the turf. "[colour=#8b4513]I can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much. I walk these streets practically every day, and it never occurs to me to run. Perhaps I should train more, I certainly couldn't catch you.[/colour]" The unicorn laughed again.

"[colour=#8b4513]Now, now, there must in everything be a proper division of labor![/colour]" Earth Writer would have needed little to be egged on in any case, but when you added in his sugar-induced playfulness, he went full on into playacting the role of a certain economics professor he had in college. "[colour=#8b4513]Some derive more enjoyment from hiding secrets, others from finding them out. I, along with all journalists, academics, and explorers, am in the latter class. There has never been a shortage of the former, you know.[/colour]" The joke was, perhaps, not one which his date would get, but at this point the stallion's actions were racing ahead of his thoughts.

Speaking of which...

For about a second, Sugar Apple's act caught the unicorn off-guard, and then she was off, flying backward! It reminded Earth, somehow, of the end of the Running of the Leaves race, where he'd been running backward and shouting encouragement to Sugar and Greenshot. Whether or no it was a specific reference, it had a similar result: the stallion took to his hooves and galloped after the pegasus.

She may have had an early lead, but he was quick to match her pace, drawing closer to her all the while. However, his eyes were on her the whole time, not on the ground in front of him. The result was, when he reached the curb that marked the entrance to the park, he tripped and was sent airborne in wingless flight, before landing ungracefully in the grass and skidding to a halt. He wasn't seriously hurt, though, as he demonstrated by springing right back up and spitting out bits of soil. "[colour=#8b4513]Bleah! That's sure a contrast to your sugar-apples![/colour]" Bits of grass were still stuck in his mane, and the front of his hide was stained green, but he didn't care.

Hm, do you feel up to doing a picture of [colour=#0000ff]Flying Brick[/colour], my OC? I don't have a visual reference, so you'd have to work off the description, but I hope I made it vivid enough.

Babs had only known Psmith for one day, which wasn't long enough to realize just how much of what he said were words as empty as the speech balloon on his flank. He was mature enough to understand his talent, but not quite enough not to use it frivolously. If anyone called him out on his piffling, that only encouraged him to pile it on thicker. "[colour=#996699]Ah, do not let your guard down on that account, comrade. He may not carry them, but it is not without precedent to stow bagpipes around a city for bagpipe emergencies. I have done the same, only with clothes, in my own native city. But, now, the question is, have anything to fear? I put on my Sherlock Hooves cap and examine him-[/colour]"

The goldenrod filly had, by now, stopped paying attention to Psmith, and had turned her head to shout back at Long Drive. This had jostled the lavender unicorn's sprained forehoof, cutting him off mid-babble and jostling the monocle from his eye. Taking a few deep breaths, he levitated the eyeglass back in place and examined the interloper through it. "[colour=#996699]He holds a map, and from that alone we deduce he is not a native. He is young, and unaccompanied; by permission or not we cannot say. Therefore, he is probably lost, and seeking for a guide. Well comrade, we are in the same boat, only we are in need of a hospital, which you, fortunately, seem not to require.[/colour]" The pain-suppressant of piffle worked its magic again on the speaker, and he was able to resume walking.

The unicorn hadn't started out with the intention of consuming the entire box of candied fruit. Perhaps it was nerves that led him to do so, much like how Sugar Apple had consumed the other half on the way to Canterlot. In any case Earth Writer stopped to stare into the empty box for a couple of seconds, as if the candy had suddenly disappeared by itself, before stowing it back away.

[colour=#8b4513]"Ah, a secret, is it?[/colour]" Earth Writer responded to her teasing with a grin. [colour=#8b4513]"That's something you should never tell to a journalist; we can't keep a secret and we don't see why anypony else should!"[/colour] He laughed, the sugar beginning to mount an assault upon his reserves of... reserve. His walk began to be infused with a quick, irregular skip as all the energy suddenly rushed to his limbs.

The street took a slight bend, curving in from the stone shelf upon which much of the city rested, leading to the solid surface of the mountain itself, upon which there was a park. It was still a good hundred yards away, though. The tan stallion shot a look at his companion, a playful smile dancing on his muzzle. "[colour=#8b4513]Race you to the park?[/colour]"

Wow, you've done really well. Do you mind if I use your pic of Psmith as a new avatar?

Hm, got in a bit late to this. You're quite good, I must say!

Anyhow, I'd like a picture of my schoolcolt OC, Wordsworth Psmith, as an Adult.

Here's a picture of his current self:

After he grows up, he'd keep the monocle, but lose the fez, and his vest would be changed for a pinstripe suit. His mane would also be more neatly combed, looking a bit like this hairstyle:

Thanks!

To keep his mind off the pain, Psmith continued to chatter on. Of course, he would have talked anyway, but there was less artifice in his voice now. He wasn't trying very hard to sound sophisticated, clever, or disinterested. His mouth simply spouted out whatever was on top his head. "[colour=#996699]You do very well as an assistant, though I detect some manner of resentment that you work alone. Comrade Batsman, unfortunately, suffers from chronic heroism; leaping in at the first call, without a thought to consequences. I do believe he'd throw over the game for me; a good friend will make such sacrifices, but a best friend should not accept. Imagine me, Psmith, staunch supporter of the team, sabotaging it and the ambitions of it's captain! No, no, it will never do.[/colour]"

It seemed to help. With Babs able to hold his wrist steady, the pain subsided enough for the lavender colt to take an interest in his surroundings, and in particular the many eyes staring at the spectacle he presented. Never a stage-shy sort, he would have waved to them if he had a free hoof.

The unicorn wasn't slow in noticing the trailing golfer, either, and he leaned over as the goldenrod filly asked how he was, [colour=#996699]"Don't look now, Comrade Babs, but I suspect we are being tailed by a Scoltish Nationalist. Any second now, we may be ambushed by the sound of bagpipes; but be of good courage! Such shall not deter us from reaching the goal of our quest for hospice.[/colour]" He was doing alright enough to indulge in nonsense, apparently.

Earth Writer blushed, again. Perhaps it would have been more convenient to paint his face red beforehand. It was probably a good sign, though; any stallion who wasn't embarrassed at such flattering attention probably had way too high an opinion of himself. And he did have to admit, on reflection, that to parallel one's Hearts and Hooves date to a great traditional pillar of Equestrian Civilization was at least a little pretentious. [colour=#8B4513]*I guess I'm just weird that way.* [/colour]This date was turning out to be surprisingly self revelatory.

Introspection, however, was apparently not going to play any great role today. Sugar Apple's perkiness had re-asserted itself, focusing now on getting the stallion to try her namesake. She didn't have to try very hard. [colour=#8b4513]"Sure, why not?"[/colour] The unicorn was quick to reply, deftly fetching one out of the box that still hovered at his side. The frosted treat would have tempted any sweet tooth, and Earth Writer's was quick to take a bite.

Instantly, his eyes went wide as the taste hit his tongue. "[colour=#8b4513]Mmph! Th't ish r'ly g'd![/colour]" The rest of the candied fruit was quickly consumed, leaving a happy pony licking his lips. "[colour=#8b4513]Really can't blame you for sampling them on the way. How do you make these things?[/colour]"

I'll be in North Carolina, judging at a Speech and Debate Tournament until Sunday. Won't be too long!

"[colour=#996699]I suspect the journey may prove dicey, but we Psmiths are troopers. Oh, thank you, Comrade.[/colour]" It was with evident relief that the colt was able to rest his sprained hoof across Babs' back. He was in pain, though you wouldn't know it from his impassive expression. You could, however, tell it from his pattern of speech, which had changed from it's customary languor to a rapid, breathy delivery.

Might certainly knew his friend well enough to see that. "[colour=#0000cd]Look, are you sure you'll be able?" [/colour]The earth pony asked, concern radiating from his features.[colour=#0000cd] "I mean, I could-"[/colour]

[colour=#996699]"No, no." [/colour]Psmith waved his good hoof dismissively, impressively managing to keep his balance.[colour=#996699] "Worry not; comrade Batsman, you have assembled a great team, and they are certain to carry on without my support. They know my heart is with them. 'Be not discouraged!' they say to each other, 'Psmith is not here to cheer us on, but we know that his thoughts are upon us. Play up, play up, and play the game!' It does my heart good to think of it."[/colour]

Might only snorted in a kind of relieved derision. If the lavender unicorn could be this much of a silly pony, he thought, there mustn't be anything seriously wrong. "[colour=#0000cd]Well, alright, if you're sure. I'll drop by after the match, then. Do be jolly careful.[/colour]" And with that, he went back to retrieve his bat.

Psmith set his face towards the bridge. "[colour=#996699]Very well, is all secured, Comrade Babs? Then let us set off upon this quest![/colour]" And so they started off, an odd-looking pair if ever there was one.

(We may be getting a new player on this thread soon)

This was encouraging! A synergy in music tastes certainly boded well. "[colour=#8b4513]I can't say I think much of country and western myself; it was never played much in my house, mostly because my mum had grown up in that part of the world, and well, probably got as bored with it as you. Can't say I've heard much of Germane folk music, except for what's played on the Canterlot oompah circuit- and yes, it does exist.[/colour]" A certain amount of incredulity was probably to expected, though it made sense if you were familiar with migration patterns of Germane ponies. The Prench, as well, tended to have a large presence in the city, hence all the high-end boutiques.

The department store had more of a mass-market appeal, but the displays it made did tend not to capture a lot of the nuances in some of the watchers relationships. [colour=#8b4513] *Or in our case,* [/colour]Earth Writer thought as he felt Sugar Apple's hoof around his, [colour=#8b4513]*The huge fact of how it began.*[/colour]

The stallion smiled as he leaned in closer. "[colour=#8b4513]Hm, but that's the fun of it, isn't it? Everypony writes their own story.[/colour]" The pair had started walking again towards the park side of the district, and the journalist could see that they were one of several couples out today. It inspired a certain familiar feeling in him, which he tried to express to his date. "[colour=#8b4513]You know, I kind of have that same feeling I had back when I was in the running of the leaves, the one I wrote in the beginning of my article. The fact that I'm taking part in a great tradition, something larger than myself. And like before,[/colour]" He leaned in to whisper, "[colour=#8b4513]You're here too, just to make my part in it just that much more special. Heh.[/colour]" Now he found himself blushing; perhaps that was too sappy? *[colour=#8b4513]Never mind; it's the truth, and every reporter has a duty to tell that.[/colour]*

Psmith nodded, "[colour=#996699]Indeed, comrade Valen and I got on like a house on fire, which is a phrase that has always rather confused me, but there you are. We can at least be grateful that it is not a literal description of the events, but at times we were worried. That little town can be a surprisingly lively place.[/colour]"

It seemed that Babs was indeed sympathetic to the plight of having one's name mispronounced, and so was redoubling her efforts to accurately replicate 'Psmith.' The colt himself looked on encouragingly, only taking out his handkerchief to clean up the spit off his jacket after the filly had mostly gotten it. "[colour=#996699]Well done, comrade, you see that it is not difficult. A little more practice, and it shall require no trouble at all. The cry goes 'round the castle walls, 'Babs has done it! What cause have we to bar the gates against one possessed of so natural an etiquette?' And I do think, as far as natural politeness goes, there's no family to beat yours.[/colour]"

Neither of them were paying attention to the game at this point, which was a pity, considering what was about to happen. The fielding team had sent out their fast bowler, who fired the ball towards the wicket at a speed illegal on all major roads. Might, however, wasn't about to let that phase him, and had landed a solid hit on the juggernaut with his bat.

This had, unfortunately, sent the ball careening towards Psmith and Babs. There was barely time for Might to call, "[colour=#0000cd]Look out![/colour]" before it arrived.

Psmith, who'd used his forehoof to gesture while he talked, was holding it out when he looked over. The good news was, he was able to block it before it hit his companion. The bad news was, the impact was enough to bend it in a way that it was never intended to bend.

"[colour=#996699]Ah-ah-ah![/colour]" The closest Psmith came to yelling was a kind of modulated, emphasized breathing, but it was clear that he was in pain. Might was already galloping over to his friend, having abandoned his bat as soon as he saw the injury. "[colour=#0000cd]I say, did that crock your wrist?[/colour]" The Earth pony asked, in a clear Trottingham accent.

"[colour=#996699]I should say -AH!- the comrade will no longer bear his weight.[/colour]" Psmith put a brave face on, keeping his hoof suspended as he turned to Babs. "[colour=#996699]Comrade Babs, would you happen to know a good fellow for setting sprains? I am new to this city, and have not fully acquainted myself with the resident specialists.[/colour]"

"[colour=#8b4513]Favorite type of music?[/colour]" Earth Writer had to think about that for a little bit; he'd been exposed to a lot of new music during his university years, which had added considerably to his preferences. Still, if one judged by the albums he'd actually gone out and purchased... "[colour=#8b4513]Well, I wouldn't call myself a rocking gal, but that's my favorite genre all told.[/colour]" He replied with a chuckle. "[colour=#8b4513]There's a lot of variation within it, of course, both by genre and by region, I'm pretty across-the-board in what I like. Also, I do have a soft spot for the softer electronica and acoustic. I like it when a singer can show range and versatility, you know?"[/colour]

The walk seemed to be calming down Sugar Apple a bit from the rush she'd acquired, though her quick steps still set the pace at a staccato trot. Truth be told, there wasn't too much worth seeing at this point, unless one came here specifically to shop for souvenirs or postcards. The next plaza over, however, a small crowd had gathered around one of the shop windows. Earth couldn't tell from here what had attracted their attention, though. "[colour=#8b4513]Wonder what that's all about- oh.[/colour]"

Their pace brought the display into view. The department store had gone all out with their Hearts and Hooves day display; not only were the mannequins modeling the latest fashions, but they were set to clockwork motion. Upon taking a closer look, the stallion could see that it was set up as a kind of narrative tableau, showing a couple going from their shy first meeting through the beginning of a relationship. It wasn't anything complex, but most of the mares in the audience were "awww-ing." Earth Writer smiled himself. "[colour=#8b4513]That is pretty neat. I like it when shopkeepers go the extra mile like this.[/colour]"

[colour=#8b4513]*Off on the right foot at last!*[/colour] Earth Writer was happily trotting alongside his date, and could feel some of her excitement infecting him. Already, his steps were infused with a kind of skip to them, unconsciously conforming to the rhythm of the fiddler to their left. Most of the street musicians tended to be folk, playing the old songs of the mountains. Quite a few were transients, taking their instruments in and out of various cities, keeping ahead of the seasonal cold fronts like migrating birds.

He mentioned this to Sugar Apple as he got into a discussion about the music, and the particular absence of the rock genre. "[colour=#8b4513]Most street music has to be acoustic, but yeah, Canterlot tends to be musically conservative compared to the Heartland or the Southern Coast. I'll keep that in mind, next time I'm in that neighborhood; there's a couple of bands I'd like to see live myself, and we can go together for our next date?" [/colour][colour=#000000]He laughed at himself for that. Not half-an-hour in to his first date, and already planning his second? [/colour][colour=#8b4513]*Still, I do hate to disappoint her.*[/colour]

The sights, sounds, and smells of the pavilion seemed to be acting as a stimulant for Sugar Apple, as she excitedly turned this way and that, trying to take in everything. *Hopefully that will burn off a little energy before we arrive at the restaurant. However, when she blitzed him with excited questions about the city streets at night, the stallion got a little embarrassed. "[colour=#8b4513]Er, well, I just thought they looked prettier, that's all.[/colour]"

It was a testament to his current state that it had momentarily slipped Earth Writer's mind just how familiar a traveler like Sugar Apple was likely to be with the city. Still, he reasoned that his planned route would have at least one or two pleasant surprises for her. [colour=#8b4513]*It's not like I planned to be a tour guide, after all. Just wanted to show her some of my favorite spots.*[/colour]

[colour=#8b4513]"Alright then!" [/colour][colour=#000000]He called out happily as the pair began trotting away from the station. "[/colour][colour=#8b4513]It's a bit of a walk to what's called the Pedestrian District, but it's definitely worth seeing.[/colour][colour=#000000]" It was over a hill and two blocks to the right, far enough away to be out of the sight and smell of the train station. It was here that the cobblestone street ended in a roundabout around a statue of some famous Canterlotian (the first mayor of the city, as he pointed out), beyond which was an open plaza that continued on like a street, with shops to either side. Carts were not allowed through here, as the district name might imply. Besides the shopfronts, a few carts were scattered about, selling various merchandise and foodstuffs.[/colour]

[colour=#000000]But the most attractive part about it was the music. At regular intervals, street musicians had set up their instruments, and were busking for coins from the passerby. Each was so spaced that as one walked down the street, each tune faded into the other, but none were so close together that they clashed. At the end near the plaza, a saxaphonist was warming up.[/colour]

[colour=#000000]"[/colour][colour=#8b4513]What do you think?[/colour][colour=#000000]" The stallion asked, grinning. "[/colour][colour=#8b4513]There's a whole network of these streets, going right up to the large park right by the palace; it was the oldest section of the city, built on the first shelf expanded from the old fortress. This is the main avenue of the pedestrian district, the branch roads will take you into some rather cozy streets, but I think those are best seen at night, myself.[/colour][colour=#000000]"[/colour]

Ooh, looks like fun! I play board games a lot with my family, but since I've been away from home, there's not been many I can play with.

Saw a lot of cool games when I visited Germany last month, but most of them weren't translated.

(I'm Rackenhammer there if you want to add me)

Well, it seemed the bouquet was hit with Sugar Apple! For Earth Writer, that made it worth every bit the florist charged, though he'd have to take her word for it about the taste.

Any self-congratulation he might have heaped on himself, however, was cut off short along with his attempted kiss. It would have been too much to ask for the mare not to have commented upon it. And really, given how nervous he'd been, the unicorn might have missed even if she had been still. "[colour=#8b4513]Truth be told, I probably couldn-rrk![/colour]"

Pegasus Sugar Apple may have been, but the creaking of his ribcage told Earth Writer that there was Earth Pony somewhere in her family (although the fact that she was part of the Apple family had told him that already). Even so, there was something charming in her excitability, not the least because it was him she'd been so excited to see. He returned a smile as best he could, breathing a few times before replying. "[colour=#8b4513]Certainly, have you spent much time in Canterlot before? There's a lot worth seeing between here and there if you don't mind taking the scenic route." [/colour]He had rather been looking forward to showing off his home city to his marefriend.

If Earth Writer had to sum up his expectations for what his reunion with Sugar Apple would be like, it would be extremely unlikely that it would have involved the word 'hyperactive.' Once he saw her barrel out of the train doors at the head of the crowd, he felt as if he were about to be bowled over in her excitement. She stopped just short of tackling him, but it did catch him off-guard, to say the least.

"[colour=#996600]Oh, ah, right! Thank you![/colour]" The stallion bobbled a bit as he tried to get a hold of the proffered candy without losing control of the bouquet. "[colour=#8b4513]I, uh brought you these.[/colour]" He held out the roses to her, hoping he didn't sound too foolish, and intensely aware of the eyes of the crowd now gathering on the platform. He could have sworn that he heard a few "awwws" from the impromptu audience.

[colour=#8b4513]*Well, might as well give them a show.* [/colour]As before, he went in to plant a kiss on the pegasus mare's face, only a sudden movement caused him to miss. He stumbled forward a bit, an embarrassed grin plastered on his face with a blush. "[colour=#8b4513]Happy hearts and Hooves day.[/colour]"