Cherry Berry sighs contentedly.
It is a truly beautiful day in Ponyville. Not a cloud in the sky, yet balmy with the faintest of breezes. Ponies are out in droves today, hustling and bustling through the markets and cobblestone streets, doing errands or simply chatting up passerby. Cherry leans back into the cheap fold-up lawn chair behind the small stand she runs in the Ponyville Park. When she thinks nopony's looking, she filches a small sip from a flask she keeps in her tail.
She feels her eyelids begin to droop, a wide toothless smile across her face. All is right in her world. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and an ominous shadow is looming above her. She allows the beginnings of a powerful afternoon siesta overtake her.
This is living.
Wait, what?
"Hey-hey! What's good to-day?"
Just like that, the vibe is gone.
She flicks an ear. Opens her eyes. There's a human standing in front of her stand, wearing a large backpack and a smile on his scruffy face. "Nice ride," he says. "You the owner?" He is, of course, referring to the large hot air balloon tied down behind her. Cherry hazards a guess that the fellow is in need of her services.
"Might be," she replies, not entirely willing to give up the fight for a catnap. "You are?"
It's not like she doesn't entirely know who he is. Out of the population of several thousand ponies, only about a dozen or so humans live in town. She's seen a couple of them around every so often. Most of the others of his kind live out on the other side of Everfree country, near Manehatten, where the work is better. But, out of the few humans she has encountered, she can only claim to know one; George, whom she sees in the Shady Trough every night. This is not George. George wouldn't bother her in the middle of a perfect day with an idiot smile and obvious questions*.
But he's probably a customer, so Cherry attempts to grin and bear it.
"Harry. Harry Zardoski." He chuckles, but it comes out more as a masculine giggle. A hand is held out towards her.
"Cute." Cherry lets the outstretched hand dangle there until he awkwardly drops it. "I'm Cherry Berry, and this is my balloon. I'm going to guess that you need a lift somewhere? Wind isn't blowing towards Cloudsdale today, just a warning."
He waves her off. "That's chill, dude! I'd just like to take a ride. You charge by the hour or by the trip?"
Dude...?
"Hourly. Ten bits." A bit pricey, but fuel is expensive, and a mare has to eat. And drink. Cherry stretches on her lawn chair, popping her joints, before sitting up to lean on the stand's counter. "Double rates for groups of four or more."
"Naaaah, it'll just be me. Can I hire you for the rest of the day? Like, until you close?"
He places a large bag upon the counter. Cherry hears the sound of clinking gold coins between her ears, and her smile is now genuine. Maybe this perfect day could be salvaged after all. "Yes, I believe you can, Mister... Zarbard, was it?"
"Most 'a you dudes call me Hazard, little pink."
"Whatever." She reaches under the stand and pulls out her pilot's cap, complete with a set of flight goggles for high winds. She's never needed them for that reason -- Celestia forbid she's in the air in a balloon when that happens -- but damn, does she look cool in them. Her customer sees her suiting up and immediately brightens.
"We goin' right now?" he chirps.
Cherry picks up the bag in hoof, appraising its heft with a practiced touch. "You've got the funds, you tell me."
"Oh, hells yeah!"
"Then climb in." Cherry sets the cap over her mane, flicking her ears until they fit through the slots. By the time she's done, the human is already perched inside the balloon basket, trying very hard not to bounce in anticipation. "Been on one of these before?"
"Totes magotes, artichokes." He fiddles with one of many straps on his large backpack.
Cherry clambers in after him and begins untying the mooring line. "Fantastic, then I'll keep this short and sweet." She pauses her ropecraft and drones into the wind; "Welcome, valued customer, to Cherry's Discount Balloon Rides. Please keep your arms and legs inside the craft at all times, injury or death on this voyage is an accepted risk you take on by agreeing to hire our services. Photography of everything but the pilot is encouraged, and yadda yadda yadda you know the drill." She slips the final knot. "Zoop."
The balloon lurches upwards, enough to send the human staggering. The entire basket wobbles a little, he's so heavy. But soon enough he settles down on his rear in the opposite corner as her. Cherry lounges against the railing, one hoof on the fire-crystal's control lever, the other idly tracing the wicker.
It takes less than a minute for them to break the clouds. Cherry says nothing the whole time, and neither does the human, who instead rummages around in the many pockets he has on the garment hanging from his waist. What did they call those again? Pants or some horseapples. How did they go to the bathroom with those things on?
Cherry frowns, and turns her attention into the wind, watching the land slowly fall away beneath them. Each second they rise, she feels a bit more of her usual crabbiness fall away.
"Hey, Miss Berry."
Aaaaaaaand its back.
The human -- Harry, or Hazard, or whatever -- is dangling a small, uncorked metal bottle in one paw. "Want some? Last time I checked, there aren't any laws here about drinking and ballooning, and I saw that dope flask you had back below."
Smart cookie, this one. Smarter than she usually deals with. "Don't call me Miss, makes me feel old. Is that what I think it is?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't know what you think, Cher-ber." He smiles.
"..."
"Too much?"
"Just give it here." She catches the toss with her free hoof and knocks back a sip a second later. Her eyes go wide at the familiar burn. "C-crimson Vintage?" she nearly spits it out, but manages without choking. "This stuff is expensive as sin!"
And really, really good.
"Special occasion." He shrugs. "Also, kudos t' you, first little dude that knew what it was by taste."
"You've obviously never met my sister**." Cherry eyes the bottle warily, careful not to spill. "What occasion?"
"Anniversary! I've been here five years now."
"At least our taste in booze rubbed off on you."
"Right?" he snorts. "Never thought cider would sell it for me."
They chuckle together for a while, then settle back into silence. This silence isn't nearly as grating, though. Cherry takes another swig of the Vintage, then hoofs it back. He smiles at her and she smirks in return. "Never thought I'd meet a two-legger with an ounce of taste."
"Whoa, that's funny! I never thought I'd be sharing hard alchohol with a pony in a hot air balloon five thousand feet up." She honestly can't tell if that was sarcasm or not. Everything he says is mellowed out by the same surfer twang.
Shaking her head, she settles on the altimeter. "Actually, we're at eight thousand."
The human starts. "Really? Nutso. Missed my stop!" He lifts himself up onto a sitting position on the balloon's railing, feet dangling against the wicker sides.
Cherry quirks an eyebrow. "Missed your...? What are you --- NO!"
In all her years as an air balloon pilot, Cherry Berry had seem some weird shit. Changelings, chaos storms, even a shotgun wedding in the clouds, to name a few. Some idiot purposefully rolling backwards out of the basket more than a mile up... now that was a new one. She only had enough time to leap across the tight quarters and vainly try and snag for a leg as he simply leaned over.
She was too slow.
To her supreme horror, Cherry witnesses the human tumble gently away, rapidly shrinking in size. Her heart hammers in her chest as she fights back a surprised tear. Feeling sick to her stomach, she simply turns away from the edge. Cherry isn't even aware when she bats the abort button on the control lever, only of the sensation of trying not to puke as the fire-crystal deactivated and the balloon began too fall at a rate somewhere between 'sickening' and 'hair-raising.'
Mere moments later, the shell-shocked pony lurches over the side and onto the grass in the middle of the park. The colors around her seem muted to her widened eyes.
A tap on the shoulder. "Heyo! We goin' up?"
Cherry whips around.
There he is, kneeling next to her with his backpack on the ground, something colorful and thick in the process of being stuffed inside. Seemingly as fit as a fiddle, happy as a clam, smug as a bug in a rug. And grinning. Grinning like a complete ---
" --- LUNATIC DIRTBAG SON OF A MONKEY-HUMPING WHACKJOB!"
Cherry tackles the human at full stride, trying to smoosh his head beneath her hoof.
He simply giggles at her brazen attempts of homicide. "Whooo-hohohoo! Stop that, you're ticklin' me! I'm gonna-hahahah- piss myself!"
"What is wrong with you!?" she screams, punctuating her words with thrown hooves.
His arms came up to cover himself. "Oh tits, this is like being assaulted by a panda," he manages to wheeze. "Jeez, ain't you ever seen skydiving before?"
She paused.
"Sky-what?" Cherry rolled off him, though her death-glare was still ratched up to eleven.
"Skydiving," he repeats, eventually pushing himself upright. "Y'know, fly way up to the wild blue yonder in a perfectly good aircraft 'n jump right out?" He rolls onto his knees, resuming to stuff the cloth thing into his pack.
"...No," she eventually said. "We like living here."
The human holds up a finger. "Ah! But that's where you're wrong, little pink. What I do is living! Adrenaline; the ultimate drug."
Cherry stared at him for a long time.
"You're completely insane."
"And wealthy." He's finished with his backpack, and now simply leans back onto his palms. "And already paid for another several go-arounds, love."
She snarls, "If you think I'm about to climb all the way up to eight thousand feet just so you can hurl yourself out of my balloon..."
"I gotta entire bottle of Crimson Vintage on reserve at a bar in town." The human winks at her. "Naw' mean?"
"...I guess we can go again." Cherry tries her damnedest not to sound the least bit excited.
It doesn't really work.
With a cheer, the human leaps to his feet and does a little dance, at the same time re-mounting the large backpack to it's proper place astride his shoulders. Sighing, Cherry clambers back into the basket, her jubilant cargo soon following. She pulls the lever, and they jerk back into the air.
"Just... don't do that without warning me next time." She eventually grumbles after moments of starting into his shit-eating grin.
"You got it, boss."
"Don't call me that."
"Head honcho."
"Or that."
"Big cheese."
"Or that."
"...Cap'n?"
Cherry buries a hoof to her face. "Yes. That one will be fine." Something swishes near her face. She looks up to find him offering the flask to her again. "Really?"
He has the grace to actually seem a bit put off. "Look, ah, sorry about givin' you a scare. I didn't know you little dudes didn't know, honest. If I had known, I woulda made sure you'da known... ya know?"
Cherry blinks.
Just take the hooch.
She does, and it's delicious. A peace eventually settles on the pair again as the balloon once more rises through the clouds. And by peace, that entails a certain human nattering on about this or that the entire way. The pleasant burn in her gut is enough for Cherry to tune him out, though. They reach the designated jump height, and this time the human straddles the edge of the basket first.
"So, Mister Zardoski, how does this work for you, anyway?" Cherry asks, clutching the side just a little tightly at the thought of the plunge.
"Hazard, Cap!" He points to the pack across his shoulders. "Gotta parachute in here on a ripcord. Just pull it an' the thing deploys! Then it's just a matter of steering myself into something that isn't hard or spiky."
"Right," Cherry mutters. "So, you're sure it's safe?"
"Ninety-nine-point-nine!" he chirps. "'Course, there's always the risk of danger, but that'd be kinda silly if it wasn't dangerous. I mean, what's the point of doin' dangerous crap like this if it's sure thing you'll get outta it in once piece? Heh. Hey, If ya think about it---"
Cherry doesn't answer. Instead, she pivots on her front hooves and gives him a solid kick in the chest. With a solid whumph of air leaving lungs, Hazard sails out into the wild blue yonder and vanishes through a cloud, limbs flailing wildly.
For a while, the mare simply sits there, just her and the sky. She breathes slowly, in, then out. All is quiet and peaceful, and not talking incessantly.
Y'know, she thinks to herself as she hits the lever to descend, This could be fun after all.
Author's Note
* George would probably just say something like "Hmm," or "Nnngh." And then continue to sip his drink. Elegant bastard that one, really has a way with words, he does.
** Berry Punch, part time spirits critic, full time alcoholic. Occasionally freelances as Mare-Do-Well's sidekick, The Grapist.
Second time doing a drunkfic. Through the 3h19min of writing this, the Authour consumed:
-three Sam Adams
-two Yeunglings
-one silver bullet
-one rum (unknown quantity, always gone)
-one jaegerbomb
hhhhhweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeheeeheeeheeheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!1
