Al Jutail, Saddle Arabia | A Quiet Gazebo Across From The Public Speaking House

Quinton sits comfortably reclined on the wicker bench that supports him, the sounds of leaves rustling the only thing that accompanies the quiet scrawling of his pen on the stack of parchment held on his lap, braced by a thick wooden cover. The closest he could get to a sketchbook, a half-complete trace of his view from the little wooden structure sits on the page, fresh ink still drying. Part of the fence, with an ornate stone-carved pot that hosts a vibrantly colored assortment of flowers, though he could hardly impress upon it's colors with just his pen. Perhaps he'd try to match them properly when he got home.

He sighs, letting his gaze wander past the bounds of the little gazebo, to the Ponies that were strutting past on this mlwarm midday. Saddle Arabia certainly differed from the Equestria that he had first entered, as did it's denizens. Their effortless use of the clay and sand that formed their lands was incredibly reminiscent of the constructive talents of the middle-eastern nations of Earth, if dated some centuries before modern times. Compared to Equestria's heavily mixed technologies that seemed to jump around, living in Saddle Arabia almost felt like a jump back in time rather than a step into an alternate, shifted timeline.

Colored sheets of cloth, often decorated, hung from the roof of most buildings, stretching across the walkways and alleys that cut between them to provide shade. Elaborate and decorative designs were carved into almost every surface and every object in sight, as a testament to the skill of the craftsponies who poured their efforts into them. And vases. Lot's of vases.

Of course, the major and bluntly obvious difference was the denizens that called this breadth of land their home. Ponies, unlike the waist-height Equestrian who had to look up at the average human, that were the Saddle Arabians. And they were tall. Face to face with the average human, offering a far more horse-like anatomy compared to the rather descriptive titling of Pony. Still, not quite as large as the horses of Earth, it was quite the experience actually speaking to most things face to face.

Or, it would be, if Quinton wasn't rather short for his build. In a rather amusing realization, most Saddle Arabians had to look down to converse with him. That included the one hosting him during his time in this foreign nation, and the one he was most looking forward to seeing, pleasantly surprised when her voice rings out from the steps of the gazebo, hooves softly tapping on the stone floor of this tucked-away little patio.

"There you are, my sun-kissed radiance." Her tone is warm, always peppered by the compliments she adored to pepper him with. Her approach is slow but purposeful, almost deceiving in how quickly she manages to close the distance, her barrel pressing to his torso, head tilted as it ever so slightly hangs over him. It's a familiar position she enjoys, the pleasure of proximity with the cheek of being able to kiss his forehead.

His darling lover, Alessia, and one of the many Saddle Arabians who stood over him. With shortly-kept fur that matched her preference for shorter mane styles, a mixture of fanciful purple-tinted blue cloth and a saddlebag strapped to her back decorated her body with it's elaborate designs, like much of the styling of this land. A gold band sits at the base of her contrastingly long tail, yet isn't the only golden decoration that fit her, with such being a very popular metal for accessories among the locals, visible on the band that holds the front of her dress together, and the mixture of embroidery and jewelry that add well-crafted details. With her fur and mane being the surprisingly simple, muted colors of a brunette with orange fur, she didnt quite stand in comparison to the multitude of brighter tones that one might see -- though Saddle Arabians were hardly as colorful as the Equestrians, offering a much smaller, more recognizable collection of coat colorings.

Or so Quinton had heard. Quinton had never actually been to Equestria, nor had he ever seen the portal that had apparently connected their worlds. On the same day that this rift between planets, dimensions or who knows what formed, Quinton found himself sprawled across the sand of an endless dune, in the middle of the desert. Saved by some passing merchants who explained the luck of his position, being close to one of the trade routes and not deeper into the wild barren lands, Quinton had to try and recover his life while questions hung on his lips, and curious stares followed him.

Until he met Alessia, who had just returned from an extended trip to Equestria, and just so happened to be the only horse that could explain to him what might have happened. Apparently, his account wasn't the only one, and whatever event that created the portal could hardly be considered calm or contained. In the coming months, they would hear stories of Humans who had been dumped all across Equus, and Ponies dumped all across Earth. These stranded individuals and what might occur to them as they remained lost in an alien world seem to be what really motivated the leaders of each side, making a heavy and rushed push for negotiations and basic rights for their protection. It was kind of funny, when Alessia opened her door to find an oit of breath Equestrian representative, worried about Quinton's state after hearing about a Human in the region. Thankfully, by that point, Quinton and Alessia had taken to enjoying each-others company.

And yet, despite all he had heard and seen in his time here, Alessia was the most radiant thing on this side of the ocean. Sparkling under the beaming light of the sun as it glittered and danced across the jewelry she wore, her smile greeting him with more warmth than any sunny day. His fascination of her had been made quite clear, with Alessia often the subject of his drawings. She found it cute, though she was still a little bashful about being asked to pose for his paintings.

Quinton sets his parchment and pen aside himself, rising from the bench to greet her. His arms wrap around her sides, as one of her hooves rise up to do the same in turn, though his eyes wander to his forearms as he ponders her words. Was he really?
"Sun-kissed?"

"Was I not clear enough, my love? You are... significantly more tanned than when you first arrived scant few months ago." She carefully explains, planting a small, firm kiss behind his ear, a smile sat comfortably on her face. She is teasing, but not exactly wrong. He's gotten a lot more sun lately than he has in years.

"Would rather be you-kissed, but I suppose even love can hardly stop the sun in it's perpetual purpose." Quinton jokes, the pair settling on the bench together once they shuffle Quinton's supplies to the side, taking great care not to damage his work. She takes a moment to look over his most recent drawing, humming to herself in surprise before turning back to him, and continuing their conversation.

"Mm... there are a few ways, but beyond an invasion of Equestria, it's one of the things we must simply put up with. Perhaps stick to the shade? I know you don't tan quite well, though you seem to be doing a fair amount better than when you first arrived." She playfully offers. Quinton half expects her to lean against him, but finds a hoof pulling against his shoulder, instead pulling him to rest against her, enjoying the well-cared for softness of her fur. She was usually subtle about it, but he's fairly certain Alessia enjoys being the taller of the pair of them.

"Well, you know who I've to thank for that. Speaking of the Sun... any of those esteemed philosophy horses listening yet?" Quinton asks, glancing up at her.

"I'm afraid not. The concept of understanding the controversial idea that our neighbors across the water are responsible for the shifting of our night and day, and not our own dieties... are a little beyond their willingness at this time." Alessia sighs, planting a quiet kiss on the top of Quinton's head.

Alessia was one of the few traveled Saddle Arabian's who had learned, understood, and accepted the seemingly radical idea that the Equestrian royalty were responsible for such a vital factoid of their life, and not the local dieties that had long been described in Saddle Arabian histories. It wasn't an easy thing for most non-Equestrian nations nor individuals to understand, but Alessia claims that their very world being opened to another, that didn't operate by such rules and beheld itself to no magic, meant there was hardly time to remain divided and ignorant. A prolific public speaker, Saddle Arabia encourages the discussion of many topics in their public debate houses, which double as courthouses when dealing with law, and a platform for the citizenry to speak their minds when they were not.

Unfortunately, her idea was considered a touch radical despite the looming changes the Portal promised to bring, and was often met with vehement disagreement and accusations of trying to empower a foreign nation.

"Must be a pretty hard piece of information to come to terms with without seeing it for yourself, huh?" Quinton asks, feeling another quiet peck on his head.

"Indeed, though it is unfortunate. Are you aware of the general Saddle Arabian beliefs, my love?" She speaks into his hair, words muffled. To say Alessia was affectionate was a bit of an understatement.

"I think I've read some of the basics, but..." Quinton sheepishly admits, looking away and avoiding Alessia's expectant stare.

She chuckles to herself, leaning down to speak into his ear.
"You haven't gotten through all the books I got you, have you?"

"Not... quite yet."

"How come? They don't bore you, do they?" She leans back, concerned.

"No, no, it's not that. I just... haven't really been reading. I've been a little distracted." Quinton admits, rubbing his arm. And glancing repeatedly at his sketchbook as it lays beside them both on the bench.

Alessia raises a brow, curious. Without a word, she leans over to page through Quinton's self-made assortment of parchments with a hoof, finding exactly what she was expecting after a few page flips.

More drawings of herself, all lovingly scrawled by a lightly obsessed Quinton. In various poses, almost always smiling, as well as studies of the anatomical forms of the Saddle Arabian breed of pony.

And one pose she quickly covers with the previous page, finding it to be a touch suggestive for a look at in public.

"Well." She hums quietly, shifting back over to look at Quinton's guilty expression.
"I suppose I can forgive your... excitement being directed in other avenues of expression."

"Sorry. You're a... captivating muse." Quinton tries to hide behind a compliment, and to his luck, the coy smile that creeps across Alessia's ever-close face tells him it works.

"Apparently so." She turns away for but a moment, and flips back to that particular parchment, taking another glance.
"...Though you may be a touch generous when it comes to certain aspects of my form."

Quinton coughs, glancing away as his cheeks flush. Hooves slowly reach around him, pulling him against her chest and holding him tightly.
"Still. Flattering, if a touch exaggerated. Perhaps tonight you could use a reminder?"

Alessia had such a way with words that always left Quinton blushing. Like lightly-veiled implications towards things that would leave him sore in the morning. She slowly slips off the bench, nodding for him to follow.
"Still, today's debate left me feeling quite hungry. Shall we find something to eat?"

"Sure, just uh... no hay." Quinton scoops up his supplies, keeping them close to his chest as he joins her side. There was an odd comfort in the way she hovered close, yet seemed to protectively loom over him, never standing too far away.

"Yes, yes. No hay. I've been remembering that since the very first month of you living with me, love. Was your first time eating it truly that traumatic?" She asks, leaning down to press their noses together.

"Yes." Quinton quickly affirms.

"I see. Then yes, I will ensure that no hay touches your plate. More for me, anyhow." She laughs softly, planting yet another one many kisses atop his head to come.

Author's Note

This is gonna be the last one I do for the October challenge, I had my fun with it but i'm missing working on my larger stories and want to try and get the zebra story out by the end of the month

Thank for reading