/pj50kb/ Anon and vacation to Haywaii


                                            I. Set

                                            >You are Anon.

                                            >You are sitting at your large, heavy, victorian-looking custom made desk.

                                            >You're quite proud of it.

                                            >It nice to look at, it's comfortable and makes you look like someone important.

                                            >Also, it was the first truly expensive, and somewhat luxure, thing that you have brought with your own money.

                                            >Making it a manifestation of a certain milestone in both your life and career.

                                            >The locals use desks low to the ground, which allows them to work while lying on their belly.

                                            >You had to work like that as well, at the beginning.

                                            >Doing paperwork and conversing with clients, while lying on your side like some medieval Arabian scribe wasn't very comfortable to say at least.

                                            >And moreover, it was always making a mess out of your stylish black tuxedo, another thing you grew rather attached to.

                                            >You came into the Ponyworld scared and naked as you were at your birth day; something to be expected from an inter-dimensional travel, as only the living matter bound together by the soul can survive the Traverse intact, as you were told by a unicorn scholar Twilight Sparkle, the country's ruler personal protege.

                                            >After finding you in the center of a medium-sized crater, and determining that you are harmless; while a detachment of unicorn battle mages formed a perimeter around; she introduced you to her friend, an aspiring fashion designer Rarity, a beautiful white unicorn mare.

                                            >Rarity was ecstatic in the face of such a tough test of her dressmaking skills as were you.

                                            >Amazingly enough, she managed to design a complete set of clothes, using only measurements along with your awkward explanations and vague pointers.

                                            >She gave the clothes to you completely free of charge, 'because Twilight asked for you, although even if she didn't ask I couldn't possibly be so heartless to rip off someone in need, darling', as she did put it.

                                            >Nowadays you had quite a few spare sets of attire, both formal and casual, but THAT tuxedo was a gift. A gift that got you a very insightful glimpse at local mores.

                                            >And you would hate any damage going its way.

                                            >You smile at these thoughts, as you run a pencil over a sheet of paper, outlining a draft for a contract your employer tasked you with.

                                            >From time to time you reach for one or other of the number of hefty tomes lying to left from you on the table, to refresh in memory some particularity of the local law.

                                            >Having completed a few articles of the contract, you re-read it. Frown, get an eraser and wipe some of the lines, rewriting them and proceed to write the next part of the document.

                                            >After a while, you finish it.

                                            >It's a solid piece of work and it takes into account all the suggestions and requests of both parties.

                                            >You collect the sheets together and turn around, towards the pony you are sharing the room with.

                                            "Hey, Ardent, have you done that other thing already?"

                                            >A young unicorn stallion, your scribe-assistant, raises his head from his own collection of papers.

                                            >"Almost. Do you have something else for me?"

                                            "Yes."

                                            >You wave the stack of papers.

                                            "Please, write down two clean copies of this."

                                            >"Calligraphy and everything?"

                                            "Yep. It's a finalized version. Everything has been already talked over."

                                            >The papers slip away from your hand, snatched by the unicorn's aura and floats onto his table.

                                            >He levitates a stack of fresh paper along, dips his pen into an ink pot and begins to lay down rows after rows of elaborate symbols -- the hieroglyphs of Equestrian alphabet.

                                            >Compared to your amateurish scribbles his writing looks like a work of art.

                                            >Well, at least while it lacks form, your creations atone for it with substance.

                                            >The door to your work office opens, and a unicorn mare enters in.

                                            >She wears a huge expensive blanket and a scarf. Her mane style is stern and businesslike.

                                            >She levitates a folded brochure onto your desk.

                                            >"Anonymous, look at this. It's from the recent issue of a semiannual Catalog. You were saying you are looking for a nice way to spend your vacation."

                                            "Gee, thank you, Mrs. Afortiori. That's very nice of you!"

                                            >She smiles, which combined with her ears being forward and not sideways means it's genuine.

                                            >"You are welcome. I want to be sure one of my best employees gets a good rest to maintain his form."

                                            >With that she goes out of the room.

                                            >That's Mrs. Afortiori, your boss, the owner of the law firm you are working for.

                                            >A typical Canterlot well-born unicorn. But, her being a pony means she's still at least one and half times better than an average boss back home.

                                            >On a side note, the juridical field in Equestria is almost exclusively unicorn-dominated.

                                            >So her compliment really means something.

                                            >You unfold the brochure and look at it. It's a lot different than what you was accustomed to back home.

                                            >The paper is thick and isn't glossy. The colors are warm but calm. It doesn't try to, metaphorically, grasp your head while screaming 'Pay attention to meeee! Buy, buy, buy!'

                                            >There is a beach in the picture, a streak of golden sand between azure and green -- the ocean and thick greenery.

                                            >Palm trees, exactly like home. A hulking mountain on the background.

                                            >And two cheerful mares on the foreground, one of them holding maracas in her mouth, other, a unicorn, is levitating some string instrument.

                                            "Welcome to Haywaii!"

                                            >You read aloud, chuckle and turn the paper around to see what's on the other side.

                                            >There are a couple of those strange arcane photos, featuring the actual landmarks and some more text:

                                            >"A Sun-blessed island corner of the South Lunar Ocean, where playing, prancing, swimming and having fun have reached unrivaled heights, where the weather teams report "Fair, with light, flower-scented breeze prevailing"... that's Haywaii!"

                                            >Heh, typical.

                                            >"We offer a wide variety of individual as well as group tours, including premium options!"

                                            >"This advertisement is sponsored by Haywaii Tourist Bureau, Hornlulu, Haywaii, 125 Radiant Boulevard."

                                            >"For more information, please refer to your local Travel Agent's office..."

                                            >You scan the text further, and hum affirmatively finding the addresses of several Canterlot branches.

                                            >Well, that seems interesting enough.

                                            >To think of it you have never really been to any resorts, let alone high class tropical ones.

                                            >You flip the brochure again to marvel at the pleasant picture.

                                            >Back home you rarely allowed yourself to dream about nice things you knew you couldn't afford.

                                            >Now, however, as you are much more respectable than you have ever been, you cannot ignore a sense of yearning, filling you.

                                            >"Haywaii, huh?" says your scribe, "Sounds nice."

                                            "I suppose."

                                            >You shrug.

                                            "I wouldn't know, really."

                                            >"Yeah, me neither."

                                            >You look at him, wondering.

                                            >Sure, he's just a scribe, but the firm offers a fair pay for a fair work, so he surely can afford some travelling.

                                            "Not big on beaches?"

                                            >Ardent Scribblings scrunches his face.

                                            >"Nah, I prefer Canterlot Mountain ski resorts. Cheaper to travel to and rolling in fresh snow is a loads of fun," he answers in a markedly carefree way.

                                            >You nod, smiling knowingly.

                                            >It appears he doesn't know enough of bad, to think he's got it rough.

                                            >But that's a good thing, you suppose.

                                            >You open your notebook to mark the completed task in your checklist, then reach out for another piece of paper.

                                            >It's time for the next task.

                                            ***

                                            >Later that day.

                                            >The pub is cozy and peaceful.

                                            >Unlike at those left on your homeplanet, here air is always clean, as ponies either do not know or do not practice smoking.

                                            >You sit on a wide and low ponychair, a glass of apple whiskey in your hand.

                                            "What would you tell me about Haywaii, gentlecolts?"

                                            >Two unicorn stallions sitting onto the adjacent chairs, fellow lawyers you relatively good acquainted with, look at each other and then back at you.

                                            >"Haywaii? It's... nice. A bit unrefined though."

                                            >Answers one of them and sips from his glass of wine.

                                            >"Hornlulu is a relatively high class, being the main city. It has an opera house, a couple of decent clubs. But that's it.

                                            >"Honestly, it's a great destination either mainly for the married with foals, or for the bachelor bands; the former get the sea, the cuisine, the sightseeing -- the latter get alcohol and plenty of flank, as lonely mares also go there with an obvious goal in mind," says the other stallion.

                                            >You sip your absolutely delicious apple whiskey, with a half thawed cube of crystal-clear ice and a few leaves of mint and make a thoughtful face.

                                            >"Do you have somepony to go with?" asks the first stallion.

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            "No. Not at all."

                                            >"I think they offer individual guides. You can take that. They'll show you the islands, the places, the activities, fill you on the particularities and you'll be able to choose what do you like the most."

                                            ***

                                            >It's Friday.

                                            >You put an effort to finish your daily workload faster and asked your boss to leave an hour early, in order to have time to visit a travel agent.

                                            >Now you are riding a cab through the streets of the formidable capital city, fiddling with a travel brochure in your hands.

                                            >A cabpony trots in a steady pace, quietly singing some song.

                                            >A mix of clopping and singing somehow feels much better than a car radio ever would.

                                            >You admire elegant white buildings around.

                                            >The way sunlight reflects off their walls and gilded roofs, giving everything a faint aura of majesty; colorful shopfronts, signs of various enterprises, duded up stallions and dressy mares.

                                            >The capital megapolis, the splendor of which was built by the sheer talent and dedication and not by sweat, pain and blood, as far as you know the local history, unlike the most capital cities of your world.

                                            >The jewel of the Crown, the seat of power to not one but two living deities: one being an everlasting mother whose light shines upon their subjects by the day, the other is her stern and seclusive younger sister, who paints the sky with beutiful star patterns by the night.

                                            >A true marvel, the heart of the country one can honestly be proud to live and die for...

                                            >You wipe away a stray tear.

                                            >Must be a road dust or something. Probably.

                                            >Meanwhile the cab stops in front of the office building, with a large "Travel Agency" sign above the foremost door.

                                            >"We've arrived, sir. It will be 25 silver bits!" the cabpony announces.

                                            "Sure"

                                            >You answer and put the coins into the sturdy metal box on the cabpony's side.

                                            >While he makes a break to drink some water you stand up and go out of the cab, towards the agency.

                                            >The office is a comfy place, heavily decorated with wooden panels and full of potted plants.

                                            >A smiling earth pony mare, with a colorful kerchief around her neck, greets you from the counter when you enter.

                                            >Upon seeing who you are, her ears stand at attention and eyes become slightly wider.

                                            >You smile softly.

                                            >Of course, you've become a fairly usual occurence in juridical circles by now, but unrelated ponies can still get surprised by your sudden appearance in front of them.

                                            >"Greetings... um..." she sniffs air, "...sir! How can I help you?"

                                            >You put the brouchure onto the counter.

                                            "I would like to visit Haywaii."

                                            >She cocks her head, looking at the piece of paper.

                                            >"Very good, sir. Would you like to go alone or with a group? It can be friends, relati--" she abruptly stops, coughs and looks at you apologetically.

                                            >With a slight gesture you show her that everything is OK.

                                            "I would like to book an individual tour."

                                            >"Of course, sir. Please, fill those forms."

                                            >You take the offered papers, take a pen and begin to scribble.

                                            "I've read something about the premium options. Can you tell me more?"

                                            >You ask in the process.

                                            >"Most certainly! The premium options include a five-horseshoe-class hotel and/or a personal guide for the entire duration of the tour."

                                            >You drum your fingers on the counter.

                                            "A personal guide sounds promising."

                                            >"Indeed! It would be a brilliant opportunity to get acquainted with the beautiful islands in detail."

                                            "Then I would like that."

                                            >"Would you like to book a hotel as well?"

                                            >You think about it.

                                            >You're not as "refined" as a Canterlot unicorn and the the booklet attracted you with the promises of a beautiful beaches and forests in the first place, not marble halls.

                                            "Do I have an option of something like a beach bungalow? I would like to be closer to the nature."

                                            >"Of course, sir. Please, fill this field right here.

                                            >She extends her neck to pick up the papers you have filled up, but you hand them to her yourself.

                                            >"Thank you. It will be 850 golden bits."

                                            >Whoa, that's hefty! Not that you didn't expect it to be, of course...

                                            >But then again, a vacation is only once per year.

                                            "Will you take a check?"

                                            >"Of course."

                                            >You reach into your inner pocket and produce a checkbook of the Equestrian Royal Bank.

                                            >You fill the uppermost check, taking a certain pleasure in the fact you can actually sign an order to a bank to pay eight hundred pieces of a precious metal currency on your behalf, and hand it to the mare.

                                            II. Sun.

                                            >You are standing on the pier, in the port city of Hornlulu, Haywaii's administration seat.

                                            >Sun shines from the clear sky, as advertised.

                                            >The tallship you have just disembarked off towers behind you, its masts full of perched pegasi folding the sails.

                                            >You have changed in your cabin beforehand and now wearing a shirt and shorts with sandals, shocking surrounding ponies with your coatless legs and arms.

                                            >A group of port workers and sailors walks in the immediate vicinity from you and eye you with a pity.

                                            >You faintly hear 'scurvy' being said by somepony.

                                            >Taking watches out of your pocket you look at the time. Let's hope your guide, who should meet you at the port will be able to recognize you.

                                            >You hear rapid hoofsteps, standing out among the mostly hastless movement around...

                                            >"Hello! Mr. Anonymous?"

                                            >You look up from the watches.

                                            >Before you stands an earth pony mare.

                                            >Her elongated equine face is cheerful and pleasant. An exotic looking flower is braided into her mane.

                                            >She is stocky and muscular, her barrel is pleasantly round, while her rump is draped by some sturdy palm leaves stitched together.

                                            >Unlike what you've become used to, her coat is just of regular chestnut coloration.

                                            >To think about it, many ponies around bear the more conventional colors than pastel varieties of Canterlot.

                                            "Yes, it's me. Miss...?"

                                            >"Welcome to Haywaii! My name is Kuleana! I'm a representative of Haywaii Tourist Bureau. I'will be your guide!"

                                            "Glad to meet you!"

                                            >"Likewise! I hope I can help you to have a wonderful time here!"

                                            >Well, a female personal guide on a beautiful tropical resort. That sounds like a cliche movie plot.

                                            >Not that it necessarily a bad thing, though.

                                            >"So, mister Anonymous--"

                                            "Please, just Anon would suffice."

                                            >"Of course. So, Anon, let us get to your accommodation. Or do you have any specific requests?"

                                            "No, miss--"

                                            >"Just Kuleana is fine."

                                            >You look at her genuine, broad smile and it somehow feels you with warmth. It takes you a bit more time to answer than you thought it would.

                                            "Sure, Kuleana. Let's go to the... wherever we should."

                                            >She nods and trots away. You grab your wheeled travel case and follow.

                                            >At the gates to the port area she catches a cab.

                                            >With a smile, you gesture her to get in first. She looks at you slightly puzzled, but hops in.

                                            >You load your case and join her. Cabpony takes a few long steps forward, to gain inertia, then breaks into trot.

                                            >You take your time to look at the city, while riding through the streets.

                                            >The paved roads and broad walks are tidy and in excellent condition.

                                            >The settlement has a nice, resort-y look; white one- or two-store buildings with pillars and lots of decoration, drowning in greenery and palm trees.

                                            >Streets are busy with ponies and other hoofed people, like donkeys, goats and cows.

                                            >Some mules as well.

                                            >"This is Hornlulu!" announces Kuleana, noticing your interest in surroundings, "Founded in the year of our Lady eight hundred forty fifth, as a main port city and administrative center of the archipelago.

                                            >"We have a nice theater, many watering ho-- I mean pubs and restaurants, and an aerial stadium for pegasi to show off!"

                                            >You look at her with interest. The sudden break in a formal guide-talk is noteworthy.

                                            "Are you a local?"

                                            >"Yes, yes I am. Born and raised. Why?"

                                            "You seem different from the... well... other ponies I know."

                                            >"Well, not to offend you, but you seem different from anypony I know about yourself."

                                            >Her ears are forward, so it's just a statement of fact. A fair statement, for sure.

                                            >You got used to what's in and around the Canterlot, but it evidently does not encompass all the wonders of the land despite being a capital.

                                            "Heh, I suppose. Don't you read the newspapers?"

                                            >"Something about a barely magical creature the Princess's student found in the Forest?"

                                            >Her tone makes it evident the forest she's talking about is The Forest.

                                            >"Yeah, I remember an article kinda like that."

                                            >She suddenly extends her neck and brings her face closely to yours.

                                            >"I'll tell you everything you would like to know about our islands, would you tell me about yourself?"

                                            >You would've been taken aback, if not for the fact that ponies, earth kind being the most notorious, are tend to touch, hug, cuddle, nuzzle and talk about personal matters much more than humans.

                                            >In Canterlot, it being the huge city, it was to a lesser extent, though.

                                            >But here, in a relatively small resort town...

                                            "Uh... OK, anything I'll be comfortable with telling."

                                            >Satisfied with the answer she returns to her initial position.

                                            >"Nice! Well, ask away."

                                            "Why are local ponies colored differently?"

                                            >Her ears make a half-circle.

                                            >"We have been living under the Princess' wing only for a little more than a hundred and a half years," she says as if it explains everything.

                                            >"Our foals started getting cutie marks only since the midway of that. Given a few generations, we will probably look like everypony else."

                                            >Um, OK. You decide not to ask further yet to not out yourself out as a completely clueless loony.

                                            >Meanwhile, your cab leaves the town. The road becomes more bumpy, looking like some old Roman road.

                                            >From the both sides it's surrounded by a literal walls of green. Colorful birds sing their melodies, sitting in the trees and huge bushes.

                                            >It seems that here amount of land management doesn't quite reach the heights of the Capital and it's outskirts.

                                            >After going like that for a while the road takes a sharp turn and exits the tropical forest.

                                            >Before you lays an enormous beach, like in a booklet, outlined with forest, with a distant mountain.

                                            >On the beach, here and there  bungalows and some other wooden structures with leafy roofs stand in abundance.

                                            >Kuleana guides the cabpony to the one of the larger buildings, where the road ends.

                                            >"Come on, we're going on hoofs from now on. The sand is a pain to traverse with a cart."

                                            >You get out without a protest and pull your travel case.

                                            >The weather is fairly hot, the sun shines relentlessly.

                                            >The cabpony's coat is visibly covered in sweat. He huffs, catching his breath.

                                            "Maybe we can get you something?"

                                            >You ask while handing out the money for the ride, feeling bad for sturdy earth colt.

                                            >"Oh, no, don't worry. I'll just go take a break at the station," he gestures to the building, "then take a passenger and go back."

                                            >You notice other carts, standing nearby.

                                            "OK, thank you very much!"

                                            >"You're welcome." He walks inside.

                                            >Kuleana beckons you to follow her, you take your luggage and step off the road onto the sand.

                                            >It immediately gets into sandals.

                                            >Superior equine hoofs do not have that problem, obviously.

                                            >Kuleana trots through the beach with a relative ease, while you travel behind in short hops, trying to get rid of the sand and simultaneously getting more of it.

                                            >You approach one particular bungalow. It's a large circular hut, standing on poles.

                                            >"That's ours." She climbs the stairs and swishes her long tail, purging the sand which got on the stairs off her hooves.

                                            >You finally decide to take off the sandals, shake them, clap together and follow your guide.

                                            >The interior of the hut is a bit spartan, but the wood and bamboo make everything look cozy.

                                            >There is a round ponytable, pillows for sitting, low and wide bed.

                                            >While it's nice and all, you still have questions...

                                            "Um... Is there a water supply?"

                                            >"Sure! Open air communal showers are not far from here."

                                            >You raise your eyebrow.

                                            "Ooookaaay... What about if I'll get thirsty?"

                                            >"The beach bar, we can always get drinks there. By the way, you ordered a premium package, so the food and boo-- err... drinks are free of charge!"

                                            >Yay! But still...

                                            "Is there, um, a water closet?"

                                            >"Outhouses are out there," she vaguely points with her nose, "slightly to the west."

                                            >Oh.

                                            >Well, living in Canterlot you got used to a peculiar mix of vaguely Victorian era technology with several magic tricks that make some things almost modern in functionality.

                                            >But, you brought this upon yourself by mentioning you want to be closer to the nature at the Travel Agent's office.

                                            >You place your travel case near the bed.

                                            "So, what will we do now?"

                                            >"Whatever you want! I have some things in mind, of course. The usual tourist routine, y'know. But it's ultimately your vacation, sir. I mean, Anon."

                                            >You scratch your chin and decide you want to eat something. The breakfast on board remained a bit too far in the past.

                                            "Ok. Let's hit the bar, I'm feeling snacky."

                                            >"As you wish!"

                                            >You two exit the bungalow and traverse the beach once again. This time you are barefoot, which proves to be much more comfortable.

                                            >Around you there are loads of other vacationers.

                                            >Ponies playing beach ball, ponies building sandcastles, swimming ponies, running foals, foals splashing in the shallow water, banging it with their front hooves, whinnying happily.

                                            >While the equivalent of the whole scene but with humans would fill you with a mild annoyance at best, the same but with ponies actually brings a faint smile to your face.

                                            >The beach bar is a VERY large hut, bamboo walls covered with leafs on a stick carcass.

                                            >You approach the counter and plop onto the barstool. Kuleana sits nearby, leaning onto the counter with her front hooves.

                                            >"Hello there!" the barmare, a unicron looking somewhat similar to Kuleana, except for the horn and being older, greets you both.

                                            >As many ponies outside the capital, she looks at you with a keen interest.

                                            >"That's Anon! He's a premium customer." Kuleana announces.

                                            >"Oh, I see. Welcome to the bar, ehm... sir!" She sniffs the air, in a way you witnessed enough to get used to. "Please, choose whatever you like!"

                                            >You look at the bar, getting lost in the shelves of bottles, pineapples, cocktail glasses, decorative umbrellas and straws.

                                            "Where's the menu, though?"

                                            >"Here." The barmare smiles at you and points to the hanging blackboard, stock and prices written with chalk.

                                            >You smile sheepishly.

                                            >"Heh, I guess that would be a normal reaction. Premiums stay in Hornlulu hotels most of the time. The more fancy establishments than ours here."

                                            "I wanted a somewhat different experience than a big city, for a change."

                                            >You answer and look at unfamiliar product names. Most of which don't ring any bells.

                                            "Um, Kuleana, I have to rely on your judgement, I'm afraid."

                                            >"Sure thing, Anon!"

                                            >She quickly orders something and non-hard cider, twofold.

                                            >A few minutes later you receive two large baked rapefruits, each split in halves, with cinnamon and berries, and two glasses of cold cider.

                                            >Kuleana sticks her muzzle into the dish, the earth-pony way.

                                            >The barmare giggles and offers you a spoon, the sophisticated unicorn tool.

                                            >You dig in. The food is delicious. Cider isn't half-bad either.

                                            >"So, what's next?" Kuleana asks after you finished your meal.

                                            >You ponder for a moment. Even though it was only a day long, the sea voyage was a bit exhausting given your unfamiliarity with ships and the lack of heave compensator.

                                            >You just want to relax for a bit, before any island exploration endeavours.

                                            "I'd like to just sunbathe for a bit."

                                            >"Cool! Let's go then!"

                                            >You stand, nod to the barmare and walk away. Kuleana takes your side immediately.

                                            >You notice she didn't pay anything as well. Maybe it's because she's an employee and that goes as a bonus?

                                            >Two of you walk by the beach for some time, till you find the spot you like the most.

                                            >There are several sunlongers under a big spotted umbrella, with a nice view on the bay.

                                            >You take one of them and stretch yourself with a gusto.

                                            "Will you join me?"

                                            >"If you wish." Kuleana plops on the lounger next to you.

                                            >You relax, looking around, marveling at the azure ocean, light blues skies and ponies having all sorts of fun.

                                            >Her Majesty's Sun shines bright from above, but the slight breeze along with the shade from umbrella make sure the heat isn't unpleasant.

                                            >You cast a glance to the right, at Kuleana.

                                            >She's dozing off, eyes half-closed, lower lip relaxed, swishing her tail from time to time, to get rid of a stray insect which landed onto her coat.

                                            >Her leafy skirt hiked up a bit, giving a look at her rump...

                                            >Your face reddens and you turn away.

                                            >Looking back at the ocean, you wonder, why is it so mares look lewder when they have something to cover themselves as opposed to when they just prance around with their tails being their only clothes?

                                            ***

                                            >It's evening.

                                            >After almost a whole afternoon of sunbathing you two went back to the bar to have a meal.

                                            >This time it was a big-ass rice pudding with plenty of fruits and a herbal tea spiked with rum.

                                            >The pudding is surprisingly filling and fruits are delicious, like everything that is grown with earth pony care.

                                            >When you exit the bar, sun sets. It dives beyond the horizon, in the usual tangible manner, leaving almost no room for the twilight, obeying the will of one of the Canterlot sovereigns.

                                            >A fem minutes after, the moon raises up; the Little Sister has opened her Night Court.

                                            >The water and the sand become silvery. You admire the sparkling path on the surface of the ocean, which leads to the Jewel of the Night above.

                                            >As you walk through the beach, you notice groups of ponies gathering here and there, around big fires.

                                            >They are dancing and singing something.

                                            >"Wanna join?" Kuleana asks, tracing your gaze.

                                            >It would be completely normal of course, knowing how communal ponies are. Even the Canterlot nobles with a stick up their asses are, they just a very caste-conscious.

                                            >But you, as a human with a lifetime of habit, do not feel comfortable with intruding into someone else's party without knowing anyone.

                                            "No, let's go to the bungalow. I want to get up early to watch the sunrise."

                                            >Kuleana nods and smiles knowingly.

                                            >"Yeah, sunrises are my favorite as well... But the moon is pretty too, of course!" she quickly adds.

                                            >You giggle.

                                            "We should alternate between the two, I think. Next time let's praise the Moon."

                                            >She nods.

                                            >"Yeah, I know a good spot, but we'll have to walk for a bit."

                                            >Four legs are faster than two. So you'll probably need to spend the good portion of the day at that.

                                            "Let's try it sometime."

                                            >Reaching your bungalow you climb the stairs and enter.

                                            >Kuleana wobbles first, to get rid of stray sand, then follows.

                                            >Without saying anything, she reaches back with her head and unstraps something, causing her skirt to fall down onto the floor.

                                            >She then proceeds to the bed and lies on it.

                                            >You look at that for a while, in a silent astonishment.

                                            "Are we gonna sleep together?"

                                            >She raises her head, ears to the side.

                                            >"Yep, I'm your personal guide so I must stay with you. Sure, in the hotel there is a second room usually, but you decided to make it rough, didn't you?"

                                            >Your jaw unhinges slightly. Deceptive likeness of some of the local things to what you had at home sometimes plays a rough joke on you.

                                            >"What, you do not want me around?" the mare asks, a bit disheartened, "Well, you could've said it before, I would've taken a cab to the city and returned in the morning."

                                            >You feel ashamed even more than when you stared at her half-clothed butt.

                                            "I'm sorry. I didn't want to offend you. I simply came from a different culture and sometimes I'm just get surprised by the things new to me. Of course you can stay."

                                            >She looks at you intently, then relaxes and lowers her head back onto the pillow.

                                            >"Is that so? Then I'm sorry as well."

                                            "Do not be."

                                            >You answer, while taking off your shirt and shorts.

                                            >"Afraid of the sand, eh?" she nods at your trunks, "It's OK, the bed is clean."

                                            "Um... No, it's... It's a human thing."

                                            >"Oh. Will you tell me? I want to make a client comfortable, after all. I need to know."

                                            "Well... Sometime."

                                            >"OK."

                                            >You crawl under the thin bedsheet. Ponies have coat, so they wouldn't need a cover in the warm climate, but for you the night air is a bit too fresh.

                                            >"Must be hard without any fur." Kuleana comments. Her huge equine field of vision allows her to see what you're doing without moving her head.

                                            "Sometimes."

                                            >"Well, the cuddles are OK and free of charge, if you'll get chilly. Although, just to clarify, we aren't in the Port District."

                                            >You look at her. In spite of her words, her face gleams with a subtile mischief.

                                            >The vacation promises to be remarkable.