Confectionaries//Sketches 1 (Moth Pony-Butterscotch x Anon)

>Another day, another drawing.
>Err… lots of drawings.
>That’s your motto.

>You’re Anonymous, an experienced artist.
>After lots of travelling and exploring, you’ve stopped right on the edge of a realm called Equestria.
>They call this place the Village, right on the eastern coast of Dust Valley.
>You’ve seen many unique creatures in your travels, but the moth ponies have been the most pleasant to be around.
>That, and, unexpectedly, they have been the most positive about your presence.

>You spend your nights creating illustrations and caricatures for any passerby moth pony in the somewhat busy town square.
>It’s a fun way to spend your evenings making a bit of money.
>Being able to practice your craft AND make the moth ponies happy?
>Delightful.
>Them being happy may be an understatement.
>These moth ponies become absolutely ecstatic when you draw things for them.

>Your biggest fans are a group of young ones from the local elementary.
>They happily visit your booth nearly every night during their “lunchtime”; it’s on the way to the town schoolhouse.
>You were still confused on the relativity of the terms for these nocturnal creatures.
>They always clamor for new pictures and sketches.
>Simple stuff usually, but enough to make them laugh, buzz, and squeak happily all the way to school and back home again.

>You used to draw for them at a reduced rate.
>A considerably reduced rate, at that.
>Now, you do it for free.
>And with demand being so high, you’ve had to open up your booth during and after school.
>This made the fillies and colts far happier, especially since most of them used their lunch money for your works.
>It’s far more enjoyable to see them both content and interested in your art.

>As nice as it is to make see them elated, there is a… small problem.

>Their “foalsitter.”
>That may be the wrong word….
>Caretaker?
>Teacher?
>You aren’t entirely sure.
>The mare in charge.
>Matriarch?
>That’s it.
>The matriarch is your “small problem.”

>Butterscotch.
>She always escorts them from elementary to the town square.
>A friendly and compassionate mare who is apparently terrified of you, an outsider.
>Perhaps she was only frightened of you because the two of you never became acquainted.
>Every other moth pony you’ve met enjoyed your company and presence.
>To your knowledge, they never once felt intimated or frightened by it.
>Why did Butterscotch have to be act so apprehensive of you?
>You’re positive she would like you if given the chance to get to know you.
>And vice versa, of course.
>No matter, you’ll just continue to bear with it.

>As it stands, Butterscotch remains in the background, keeping a careful watch on the children as they surround your booth, demanding drawings.
>You glance over at her occasionally, trying to make eye contact and give a friendly smile.
>As friendly as you are, she only gives you short replies, causing conversations to be shorter than you’d like.

>Even with her timidity, there was something oddly distinctive about Butterscotch.
>Something that other moth ponies around here lacked.
>Something about her appearance?
>You can’t quite put your finger on it.
>Is it her lime green eyes?
>Her exquisitely fluffy white coat, gently-speckled with black spots?
>Or maybe it’s her buttery mane?
>Maybe it’s all of these things.
>Perhaps it’s the way she acted around you that made you feel this way.
>Whatever it is, it’s enough to make you spend a lot of your free time drawing simple sketches of her.

>At the end of your shifts, once everything has died down, you open up your private sketchbook and just let your mind wander.
>They were crudely drawn scribbles at best.
>You never could look at Butterscotch long enough to truly capture her appearance in your mind, not with the younger moth ponies distracting you.
>Or with her hiding and giving you quick glances.

>Even though you consider them doodles, every line, stroke, and nuance you put on paper is employed more delicately when sketching Butterscotch.
>Before long you had a few too many pages of scribbles.
>Of course, no one knew of these doodles except for you.
>You intend to keep it this way.

>In a normal world, you would make an effort to try and get to know her better.
>Converse, have lunch, spend time together.
>Then again, this is far from a normal world.
>With regards to Butterscotch, her timidity seems to make even the simplest of things, like lunch or extended conversation, seem impossible.

>You check your watch; it’s past the typical time that you keep your booth open.
>But a few more minutes will be okay.
>You continue to work on your last drawing.
>You glance over and see Butterscotch begin trot over you and the foals.
“I think it’s about time to call it a evening, young ones.”
>Multiple sounds of disappointment ring in your eardrums.
>The group of little moth foals give you puppy dog eyes.
>It breaks your heart every time.
“Well… I guess I could-“
>”Now, children. Mr. Anon has worked hard tonight. We should let him rest.”
>The kids give you bigger puppy dog eyes, as if begging you to convince Butterscotch to change her mind.
>Must… look… away….

>You glance at Butterscotch.
>Her eyes avoid yours, instead scanning over the group of dissatisfied foals.
>You kneel down to the small moth ponies.
“She’s right, everyone. Besides, don’t you guys have homework to do?”
>You look up at Butterscotch, who has her muzzle righteously in the air.
>A few of the foals shake their head.
“But hey, no worries, huh? You know I’ll be here tomorrow!”
>The group collectively sighs in response.
>Butterscotch rounds the children up, trying to quell everyone’s sadness.
>”Come on, it’s time to head home. Everypony be sure to thank Mr. Anon once more before we all leave!”

>The kids take a deep breathe….
>”THANK YOU, MR. ANOOOONNN!!”

>You smile and wave to the kids as they follow closely behind Butterscotch, some happily waving back, some saying:
>“See ya, tomorrow, Mr. Anon.”
>“Thanks again, Mr. Anon.”
>”Have a good night, Mr. Anon!”

>Butterscotch turns and glances at you for a moment.
>You give her a friendly wave goodbye.

>You swear you see her smile and blush.
>There is a possibility that you may be a bit crazy.
>Maybe the dim light has betrayed your eyes.
>You might even be going blind, which wouldn’t be good for you as an artist.
>Unfortunately, there is truly no telling what she did, as she faces forwards as quickly as she had turned back.
>You sigh as the group disappears out of view of the town square.

>It’s been another fun-filled and eventful evening, but now it’s time to go home.
>Besides, you’re starving.
>You quickly pack up your drawings and all of your drawing supplies.
>You fold up your booth and chair, and throw them on your back.
>Portfolio in one hand, briefcase in the other, you are ready to head home.
>Luckily, home isn’t too far of a walk.
>This stuff is quite heavy.

~

>Another day, another….
>Well, you know.

>You were, however, hoping tonight would be different.
>Tonight you were going to offer to do a sketch for Butterscotch.
>The idea has been on your mind all night, and it was making you feel quite nervous.
>Your goal is to get close enough to her to be able to hold a conversation that lasts more than a few seconds.
>Assuming you are successful in doing that, you will then try to hold a conversation and bring up the idea of a sketch during that time.
>This entire scenario was going to be a definite challenge, not that you mind that.
>You’re more worried that this plan is going to backfire.
>But that shouldn’t happen, right?


>You sit and sketch the image of a nightshade, one of your favorite flowers.
>You check your watch.
>It was about “lunchtime”, close to midnight, and you expected Butterscotch to enter the town center at any moment.
>She usually stops by this friendly little smoothie shop across from your drawing booth if she doesn’t have any foals with her.
>Afterwards, she typically eyes you nervously, avoids eye contact entirely, or waits until you are turned around to head back to her business and continue her evening.
>Her routine was going to be slightly altered tonight, as you have been kind enough to buy her favorite smoothie.
>With help of the owner of the smoothie shop, of course.
>A nice blend of oats, blueberries, mint, and apple cider.
>Or a “Sidewinder,” as it was named.
>You decide to get one as well, hoping it would be an effective way to break the ice.

>Not a moment too soon, you see Butterscotch happily trot towards the smoothie shop.
>You return to your sketching, acting as if you hadn’t noticed her.
>As you peek over your easel, you see Butterscotch enter the shop.
>So far, so good.
>Hopefully the moth pony inside would follow your instructions.
>You asked him to tell Butterscotch that her smoothie was already made and purchased for her, and that she would find it across the road.
>This plan was foolproof.
>You peek over your easel once more.
>Right on time, Butterscotch is trotting over to you.
>She looks… peeved.
>Uh oh.

>You snap your head back and continue to sketch.
>Abort mission.
>Pretend nothing happened.
>The moth pony in the shop is delusional; you got two smoothies for yourself, that’s all.
>You begin to nervously whistle a tune.
>The sound of trotting stops from behind your easel.
>You hear a very irked mare clear her throat:

>”Mr. Anon.”
“…”
>”It’s me.”
>Butterscotch mildly taps the back of your easel.
>Just like her to not show herself.
“Is that you Butterscotch?”
>”Yes.”
“I can’t… I can’t see you.”
>”I’m behind your easel, Mr. Anon.”
“How do I know it’s really you?”
>Butterscotch squeaks in annoyance, peeking her head from behind your easel, her eyes nervously avoiding your own.

“Oh, Butterscotch! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
>Her face is scrunched, her antennae are sticking straight up, and her cheeks are a reddish color.
>Keep playing it cool, Mr. Anon.
>You got this handled.
>This already the longest conversation you’ve had with the mare.
>Things can only go up from here.

>”I have been told that you have a smoothie for me.”
“That… may be true.”
>”Why is that true?”
“Err….”
>You put your pencils down.
>”W-why did you buy me a smoothie?”
“Uh… you see….”
>Butterscotch scrunches her face again.
>This would be really cute if you didn’t feel like you were about to get verbally reamed.
“I just always see you head in there. I figured I’d surprise you with-“
>”Are y-you spying on me!?”
“N-no! That’s not it at all!”
>”Then w-what is it, M-Mr. Anon?”
“I don’t know! I just wanted to be friendly and buy you a smoothie!”
>She huffs and puffs, squeaking in irritation.
>She shakes her head at you; her stout cheeks still a deep shade of red.

>”Well… m-may I have it?”
“Err….”
>”The s-smoothie.”
“Of course you can have it. I mean… I bought it for you.”
>She squeaks loudly.
>”That may be true… b-but next time just leave it in the shop for me!”
“Uh…”
>”That way it’ll stay c-cold!”
“…so there will be a next time?”
>Butterscotch lets out more dissatisfied squeaks, hiding her face behind your easel once more.
>”M-Mr. Anon, please!”
>You shrug, reaching down and picking up the tray of smoothies.

“Here you are. One freshly made Sidewinder.”
>”…p-pass it here.”
“I’m sorry?”
>”Behind the easel.”
“You want me to hand you the smoothie...”
>”Yes.”
“…behind my easel?”
>She squeaks softly.
>”Y-yes.”
“…”
>”Please.”

>You sigh and take a smoothie, offering it to Butterscotch behind your easel.
>She quickly takes it.
>Silence.
>Silence….
>Butterscotch clears her throat.
>”I need a straw, t-too.”
“A what?”
>”A s-straw.”
“A straw?”
>”To d-drink this with.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry.”
>You reach back down and grab a straw for her.
>You carefully offer it behind your easel, and she takes it immediately.
>”T-thank you.”
“Of course.”

>”…”
“…”
>Butterscotch gives out a nervous squeak.
“Is… everything okay?”
>”This smoothie is good….”
>You quickly peek over your easel.
>Butterscotch was sitting on the ground, drinking her smoothie.

>It looks like she was sticking around for a bit.
>Although this whole situation played out a bit differently than previously expected, most of your goal had been achieved.
>With the safety of the easel in between the two of you, Butterscotch was essentially spending time with you.
>It seems like this was the only way she would be able to do it, as she clearly was still uncomfortable around you.
>For the time being, you will postpone asking to do a sketch for her.
>You put a straw in your Sidewinder and join her.
>You drink a little bit of the smoothie.
“Wow. This is quite tasty, huh?”
>”…”
“…”
>”I l-love the berries they use in this….”

>As odd as it may seem, you ARE enjoying drinking a smoothie with Butterscotch in near silence.
>However, you begin to wonder if she had chosen to stay because she felt obligated to.
>That thought doesn’t make you feel too good.
“Hey, Butterscotch?”
>She gives a soft squeak in response.
“You don’t have to drink this with me if you don’t want to.”
>”…
“Like, you can go on with your evening.”
>”I-I…”
>You take another sip of your smoothie.
“Rather, I don’t want you to feel indebted to me or something. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”
>”W-why?”
“Why what?”
>She huffs and puffs.
>”Why did you w-want to do something nice for me?”
“Uh….”
>”Y-you don’t even know me.”

>Bingo.
“That’s why I did it. Because I don’t know you.”
>Butterscotch doesn’t respond.
>You hear a bit of tapping.
>You peek over the easel.
>She is looking at the ground, tapping her forehooves together softly.
>You return to your smoothie.
>Butterscotch sighs quietly.
>”Mr. Anon, that s-seems a bit….”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to offend you or anything, Butterscotch.”
>”…”
“I just wanted an opportunity to get to know you.”

>The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes.
>You put your smoothie down and pick up your pencils.
>Might as well return to sketching.
>You hear Butterscotch finish up her smoothie.
>She clears her throat.
>”Thank you f-for the smoothie, Mr. Anon.”
“Anytime.”
>She peeks her head from behind the easel.
>Her face is flushed, and her eyes are darting around nervously.
>”I-I should get going now.”
>You opt to only give her a quick glance and smile, and return your focus on your drawing.
>You got more than what you bargained for today.
>Minus the drawing part.
 “Alrighty then. I hope you enjoyed your smoothie.”
>Butterscotch squeaks quietly.
>”B-bye, Mr. Anon.”
“Take care.”

>She gets up and slowly trots away.
>After a few minutes you put your pencil down.
>You sit back and sigh, looking intently at your work.
>Next to your simple nightshade was a small little doodle of Butterscotch drinking a smoothie.
>You carefully remove the sketch from your easel and pack it neatly into your private portfolio.
>Tonight went well.

>Tomorrow will have to be handled a bit differently.

~

End of Part 1