The Outer wall is a barrier against the dangers from outside the city. In its shadows is another barrier, one from hope, comfort, and warmth.
Sky street (and the blocks around it) are odd. The shadows are darker. The air is damper. The mood is bleak and errie. The street is silent, all the noise muted somehow. However, you can always seem to hear someone crying.
Everyone has to live and work somewhere.
The street is wide, and smoothly paved, with trees planted along the sides. The houses are mansions and palaces, each surrounded by stone and ironwork walls that are as much decorative as they are protective. These are the summer homes of the Princesses, and ladies of privelage.
A rare branch of the arcane masters, encountered only among the deepest hill folk or ramshackle cabins, the Saucerer takes his power directly from the consumption of cheap liquor. Only the strongest, rankest, most nauseating of homebrewed alcohol will do, where it is instantly converted into mana available to the caster. Without a minimum level of inebriation, the Saucerer will be unable to cast any spells, as focus inhibits his spellcasting abilities.