Windy Skies

Perched upon a stool in front of the island counter, you watch Windy work with hawk-like intensity. Your nose twitches as a sweet, mouthwatering aroma slowly fills the room. The scent causes your stomach to growl loudly.

“Alright! Alright,” Windy laughs. “I’m going as fast as I can!” Hovering in the air, her wings twitch as she holds herself steady. She carefully pours a thin stream of batter from a blender jar. It trickles down onto a heated skillet with a hiss, and a moment later, the delicious smell of vanilla fills your nostrils.

Your stomach growls again.

Windy stops swirling the batter around the skillet and gives you an incredulous look. “Goodness! Somepony really is hungry this morning!”

A blush touches your face, and you give her a sheepish smile. After what happened last night, you woke up starving. The second half of the concert was just as amazing as the first, and while you and Windy didn’t partake in any more… relieving activities, you did have to take care of yourself in the shower before bed.

Although, thanks to all the excitement, you were out like a light the minute your head hit the pillow, and you didn’t wake up until Windy came banging on the door, asking you if you wanted breakfast.

You don’t know what it is about Cloudsdale that is throwing off your sleeping habits, but you could get used to sleeping in.

“I know a good case of Diver’s Spire can really get the appetite going later,” Windy is saying, “but now you’re just showing off! Must be because you’re an Earth pony.” She gives you a wink. “All that energy and stamina. I guess it’s time to refuel.”

Deftly grabbing a rubber spatula with her wing, she uses it to carefully flip the contents of the skillet over. The batter has solidified into a thin cake and has taken on a golden-brown color. She lets it cook for another minute before carefully sliding the crepe out of the skillet and onto a waiting plate, where it joins several more she has cooked previously.

As she starts cooking another one, a small frown crosses your face, and your brow furrows. Licking your lips, you glance up at her— “So, um…” —only to trail off as you realize you aren’t sure how to word your question.

At your voice, Windy looks up from the skillet.

“What’s up, champ?” she asks, flipping a crepe without even looking at it.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before trying again.

“Could… could you explain the whole Diver’s Spire thing again?” you ask, your ears splaying back against your head.

Windy stares blankly at you before her expression softens. A small smile touches the corners of her mouth.

“Still a little confused about it?” she asks. “Feeling a little overwhelmed?”

You hesitate before nodding.

Windy chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “Diver’s Spire… is a natural response that affects mainly Cloudsdalian pegasi. It’s a blood trait, so even though you aren’t a pegasus, you inherited it from your mother’s blood.” She gives the skillet a shake before depositing another crepe on the pile. “It tends to manifest itself around the same time as the pony is going through puberty. While not exactly a common trait, enough pegasi have it that it’s fairly well known. At least, within pegasi communities.”

“Is… are most ponies okay with it up here?” you ask tentatively.

She pauses in pouring more batter into the skillet and gives you a confused look. “Of course they are. Why would somepony get mad at you from something out of your control? Getting upset at somepony for having Diver’s Spire would be like getting mad at somepony who was gay.”

Spluttering, you feel your face heat up. “W-well, it’s just… I… you see…”

A look of dawning realization slowly works its way across Windy’s face. “You’re… you’re still uncomfortable about all this, aren’t you?”

“Well, y-yes…” you stammer. “I mean, I have no problem with what happened. It felt amazing! It’s just…” Unable to put it to words, you just wave your hooves about before flopping down on the countertop.

This causes Windy to giggle. “It’s fine, champ. I understand what you’re trying to say.” She rolls her eyes and thunks the back of her head with a hoof. “I keep forgetting you don’t know a lot about life in Cloudsdale. You grew up in Canterlot instead, which explains your unease.”

“It does?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Mmm-hmm,” Windy hums as she flips another crepe. “Let me take a flight in the dark here and say that all your teachers have told you the same thing. That sex is sacred and you should wait until you’re older or have gotten married, blah blah blah.” She raises an eyebrow. “Does that sound about right?”

You blink in surprise. “Uh… yes, actually.”

“I figured as much,” Windy says as she slides the last crepe off the skillet. Turning off the stove, she places the skillet on a cool burner before turning her attention to the pile of crepes. With nimble hooves, she begins folding the thin cakes into quarters, being mindful of how hot they are.

“You see,” she says as she continues to work, “don’t tell your mother I said this, but Canterlot is full of fuddy duddies. They’re all stuck up and stuffy and need somepony to pull the stick out of their plot. Up here in Cloudsdale, we’re a lot more relaxed about such things. In fact, it’s not uncommon for classmates or friends to help each other out with their Diver’s Spire, or even if one of them has a particularly bad itch that needs scratching.”

She pauses in her task and points a hoof at you. “My little Dashie gets really bad estruses, what with her being out in the sky beneath the sun so often. It got to the point where she couldn’t take it anymore and asked her friend Fluttershy for help. And let me tell you, I know for a fact that little Miss ‘I’m-so-timid-and-scared-of-my-own-shadow’ Fluttershy knows how to use her tongue. Dashie’s screams and a strong, musky liquid dripping through the ceiling can attest to that!”

The mental image is enough to bring a dark blush to your face, and you lean forward against the counter as you feel yourself twitch in your sheath.

“Oh sure,” Windy says as she begins spreading a dusting of powdered sugar over the folded crepes. “There are many in Canterlot who would claim that such a thing would lead to more teen pregnancies here in Cloudsdale. However, that’s never been the case. Due to our relaxed nature when it comes to such things, we are more open to talking to our foals about it early one.

“As such, they are more likely to use contraceptives during estrus, and even ask us for them if they don’t have any. They don’t slink off into alleyways to rut each other without proper protection because they don’t want their parents finding out, like those foals over in Canterlot or Manehattan are prone to do.”

“I haven’t really noticed that before,” you say thoughtfully. Granted, you aren’t the most observant when it comes to such things, seeing as you usually have your nose pressed in a drawing book. You’ll have to keep an eye out for that when you get back home.

“There’s no shaming up here,” Windy says as she proceeds to drizzle melted chocolate over the crepes next. “More often than not you’ll see a mare pulling a stallion into the bathroom for a quick buck, or a stallion mounting a mare in a relatively secluded place. We’re not perverts though, despite what the rest of the world might think. We Cloudsdalians don’t just rut out in the open for all to see, but we don’t hide it either. Other ponies will know what you’re up to, but they tend to leave you alone.”

“Really?” you ask, ears perking.

Windy just shrugs. “When you’ve gotta eat, you get something to eat. When you’ve gotta go to the bathroom, you go to the bathroom. When you gotta have your fields plowed, you get them plowed. Sure you might get some stares, but most pegasi just give you winks and nudges as you hurry off.”

“Oh… so, like… last night at the concert?” you ask.

“The other mares in the bathroom were more flustered than upset,” Windy says. She pauses, and a smirk touches her muzzle. “And maybe a little jealous too.”

You cock your head to the side. “Jealous?”

“We pegasi are prideful creatures, champ,” she says. “We’re a proud race. That’s why we put so much time and effort into pomp and circumstance. That’s why we put so much work into our wings and manes. We’re proud of our speed, our agility, our appearance, our loyalty.” A blush slowly spreads across Windy’s face, and she almost looks shy for a moment. “Even our abilities to please a partner.”

Silence falls over the kitchen, both of you staring at each other with blushes on your faces. Then, after a moment, you smile. “I… I had fun.”

Windy’s face lights up with a smile and she puffs up, her chest fluff and feathers fluffing out. She stays this way, even as she starts cutting up banana slices and dropping them on top of the chocolate-drizzled crepes.

“Granted, now that I think about it, that might be part of the reason your mother doesn’t talk about Cloudsdale much,” she says after she’s settled down slightly. Popping one of the slices into her mouth, she continues. “Most ponies outside of the city tend to frown upon how we handle sex. She probably wanted to avoid weirding you out too much.”

“I wouldn’t have found it weird,” you mumble.

“Maybe…” Windy says slowly, “but still… she was probably trying to protect you from the rumors and stereotypes that revolved around the ponies that come from Cloudsdale.”

You blink. “Stereotypes? What stereotypes?”

Windy rolls her eyes before starting to list them off, counting on her feathers as she does so. “Oh, silly things. Like how Cloudsdalian pegasi are perverts that will lift their tails for anypony that happens by. Or that the rainbows made in the Weather Factory are made from ground up pegasi. Or that our mares are size queens that are only satisfied by members as big and thick as our own forelegs. Or that batponies are incestual and lewd in nature, although…” she hums thoughtfully, “that one might actually have a grain of truth to it… but that’s besides the point.”

You double take at the last one, but push it aside. “Well, I still wouldn’t think she’s weird.”

“Well, you’re a good son, then,” Windy says with a smile. “Anyways, did this discussion help you feel a little better?”

“Yes!” you say, nodding happily.

“Excellent!” Windy chirps. “Now that that’s out of the way... how about some breakfast?”

You open your mouth to reply, but your stomach beats you to it. A loud growl fills the room, and both you and Windy glance down at your barrel.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Windy laughs as she pushes a plate over to you. “Here! Eat before you wither away!”

Mouthwatering, you stare down at the plate of heavenly goodness. The chocolate drizzle has mixed with the powdered sugar, and is now cooling, which in turn causes the banana slices to stick to the still-warm crepes. The scent of banana, chocolate, and vanilla floods your nose as you inhale deeply.

Oh sweet Celestia, this is going to be delicious.

You grab your fork and begin digging into your crepes, moaning happily as the taste of paradise fills your mouth. The only thing sweeter would be breast milk straight from the teat of Celestia herself.

Laughing softly at your expression, Windy starts to tuck into her own plate. However, before she can, there’s a flurry of knocks at the door. Both of you glance up in surprise, giving each other wide-eyed looks.

Mouth full of food, you can only incline your head towards the door and give her an inquisitive look.

“I… wasn’t expecting anypony today,” she says slowly. Humming softly, she gets up and makes her way out of the kitchen and towards the front door. “You can keep eating without me,” she calls back over her shoulder. “This hopefully won’t take long.”

Nodding slightly, you stuff another forkful of crepes into your already-packed cheeks. The chocolate is amazing, but it’s the bananas that make the dish; they’re particularly flavorful this morning.

As you chew, you crane your head around, trying to peer around kitchen cabinets which are blocking your view.

Windy straightens her hair in a mirror in the hallway before opening the door. She starts to greet the pony, only to suddenly be pulled into a bone-crushing hug by the large stallion on the other side of the door. At first you’re a little concerned, but then you notice that it’s the same stallion that’s in all the pictures around the house—a light grayish-blue pegasus with short-cropped rainbow mane and tail.

He swings her around for a few more seconds before dropping her back on the ground. Windy staggers slightly, her eyes swirling in her head. She asks the stallion something, but you can’t hear the words over your own chewing.

The stallion practically shouts something before pulling a newspaper out from under his wing and excitedly pointing at the front page picture. Whatever it depicts seems to shock Windy, as she stares wide-eyed at the picture with her mouth agape a moment before…

“H’ohmygosh! H’ohmygosh! H’ohmygosh!” Squealing loudly, she grabs the newspaper and proceeds to flutter back and forth around the hall. She holds the paper to her chest, grinning widely as she continues to babble nonstop.

The stallion soon joins her, and the pair bounce about like foals, all while jabbering on over each other. You catch some words, like “rainbow” and “proud” and “best” and “pineapple”; all in all, it makes little sense to you.

This continues for several minutes until they both begin to calm down. At least, Windy starts to calm down; the stallion still appears to be hyped up. He flutters to the door, waving his hooves about energetically. “I’ve got to go!” he says. “I’ve got to get the new wing of the trophy room set up! This is going to be the main centerpiece for a while!”

Windy waves to the stallion as he leaves, closing the door behind her. She’s silent for a moment, staring down at the newspaper with a smile on her face. Then, she quickly flutters off down the hallway and out of sight.

Confused, you swallow before stuffing more food in your mouth.

Before long, Windy returns with a picture frame in one hoof, and a cut up newspaper in the other. She places the newspaper down on the counter before moving to hang up the picture frame above the fireplace.

Spinning about on the stool, you watch as she fiddles with the frame for a second before stepping back. It’s only then that you see that she’s cut out the main picture, which depicts six mares huddled together with large smiles on their faces. Another picture, smaller than the first, shows a rainbow-maned mare smirking at the camera while puffing out her chest, a golden medallion hanging about her neck.

Windy’s also managed to include the story’s headline above the picture and, squinting, you can just barely make out the words: ‘Local Mare, Hero of the Changeling Invasion’.

“Is… is that your daughter?” you ask after swallowing the food in your mouth.

“Yes,” Windy says, and you can practically hear her words dripping with pride. “Apparently she and her friends not only helped with the Royal Wedding, but they also staved off the Changeling Invasion until Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Prince Consort Shining Armor could take care of them.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” you say, taking another bite of food. “Her and that orange Earth pony. Came right through the middle district. They were throwing changelings left and right.” You pause a moment before adding. “According to dad, if the reports are right, they both fought off at least one hundred changelings a piece before the end. Some of the guards said it was the most impressive thing they’d ever seen from a civilian.”

Windy’s smile is bright enough to blind even the sun.