(Moth) A Moth's Song - 4

>"I cannot do this."
>The little moth pony buzzes in frustration as you stop the record player.
"Yes you can. You can't just give up, Actias."
>She stomps past you as she leaves the room.
"Actias, come on!"
>"August, please! Let me take a break. We have been at this for the past six hours!"
>Her voice starts to squeak the louder she yells.
>"I am sorry I yelled."
"It's alright. We should take a break for a little bit."
>"Thank you."
>The frustrated mare trots off, into the kitchen.
>You sigh and shake your head.
>It might be a good time to get some piano practice in.
>Crossing the hall and unlocking the door to the room opposite the Light Room, you smile to yourself.
>Ordinarily, the room wouldn't be locked, but since you have what may be a permanent guest living with you, it was better to play things safe.
>As you turn the light on and shut the door behind you, a beautiful grand piano enters your field of vision.
>The rest of the room is almost completely barren, save for a small table with a little picture in a wooden frame sitting on it.
>Pictured are you, a mare, and a filly sitting under a large oak tree, smiling in pure bliss.
>You smile at the picture before sitting down at the piano.
"You two have a song in mind?"
>Complete silence meets your ears.
"Nocturne Op. 72 No. 1 by Chopin? Again?"
>As you shake your head and chuckle a little bit, you start to play.
"I don't mind playing it, but you could request something different once in a while."
>Your cheeks burn and your throat tightens as you play.
>A tear rolls from your eye as you finish the piece.
"I shouldn't be dwelling on this."
>"August?"
>Startled, you stand and run to the door.
>Actias slips inside before you can close it.
>"I heard you playing, so I came to watch."
"I don't want you in here. You can't be in here."
>"Why not?"
>She sits down on the piano bench and looks up at you.
"It's a long story."
>You make the mistake of glancing over at the picture.

>Actias follows your gaze, her eyes locking to the frame.
>Everything slows down as she reaches over to it.
>You rush over and take it out of her hooves.
>"What is that?"
"It's a picture."
>"Who are the ponies in it?"
"It's a long story."
>"We have time."
"No we don't. We have to practice for those auditions."
>"Oh, come on! We have been practicing all day!"
>Two hooves press against your chest as she stands up and stares into your eyes.
>"Please? If you tell me, I promise I will not ask for a break tomorrow."
"It isn't important, but since you're going to promise that, I'll give you the short answer."
>You set the picture back down on the table and pick the moth pony up.
>As you walk out of the room, you begin to speak.
"They were friends of mine, a long time ago."
>"How long ago?"
"I don't remember."
>"Oh. What happened to them?"
"Shenanigans."
>"You won't tell me?"
"No, because it isn't important."
>"It is important."
>You sigh and walk toward the kitchen.
"Actias, please. Just drop it."
>She nuzzles your neck and buzzes.
>"Sorry."
>A jar of nectar sits on the counter, unopened.
"Couldn't get this open?"
>"No. I came to ask you for help, but I got distracted by you playing."
"Oh. Well, then. Let's get this open so you can eat."
>Actias hops down and sits on a stool beside the counter.
>You open the jar and pass it to her before turning to prepare your own lunch.
>Bread, veggies, meat.
>Meat.
>You look down at your meatless sandwich.
"Don't cry, August."
>Even though you've gone a very long time without meat, its delicious flavor still haunts your memories.
>"August, are you okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just missing something that use to be in my life."
>"Those ponies?"
"No! For the love of all that's good, no! It isn't them, it will never be them, they are gone, I've moved on."
>Shaking your head, you turn to her and walk over to the counter.
"Please don't bring them up anymore."

>She nods and goes back to drinking the nectar.
>That long tongue of hers dips into the jar as she holds it up to her mouth.
>It's a horrific sight.
>You cringe and stare at your sandwich.
"I don't want this anymore."
>"I will eat it!"
>The moth mare slurps her tongue out of the jar and then flutters over to you.
>Almost as soon as you hand her the sandwich, her tongue wraps all around it before pulling it into her mouth.
>She keeps eye contact with you the entire time she chews.
>It is one of the most disturbing displays you have ever seen.
>Unblinking, ever-staring, rhythmic chewing.
"Please stop."
>"Stop what?"
>Bits of sandwich fall from her mouth.
"One, talking when you have food in your mouth, and two, staring at me while you eat."
>"But I like how you look."
>More food falls out of her mouth.
"What'd I just say?"
>She swallows the sandwich and takes a sip of nectar.
>"Sorry."
"Are you done? We need to practice."
>"Actually, I want to listen to you play the piano some more."
"You aren't allowed in there."
>"Oh come on! You cannot be serious!"
"I'm very serious."
>"I won't ask about the picture, I won't say anything, I will sit perfectly still and listen to you play!"
"No."
>"Please!"
>You brush your hand over your face and look into her eyes.
"Fine."
>"Really?!"
"Yes, but you're going to do exactly what you said you would."
>"I will!"
>Actias latches onto you with a big grin slapped onto her face.
>The rest of the day was going to be absolutely wonderful.

>"What do you want me to play?"
>You look around the room and smile softly before tilting your head.
"I don't know, what can you play?"
>August slowly turns his head to glare at you.
>"Wasn't talking to you."
>Hooves over your mouth in embarrassment, you squeak softly.
"Sorry."
>August shakes his head and ignores you as he nods softly.
>"Ah, some Rimsky-Korsakov. You challenge me."
>He is not right in the head.
>Talking to himself?
>Answering himself?
>He is definitely a strange one, but he is kind when he wants to be.
>Plus he has nice lights and music.
>He starts to play an incredibly fast piece, his fingers flying over the keys faster than you can keep up with.
>A feeling of awe comes over you as you approach him and sit beside the piano bench.
>The rapidity of the notes makes the piece feel like it passes quickly.
>Maybe a minute, two tops, pass before August finishes playing.
"What was that one called?"
>"Flight of the Bumblebee."
"Is that supposed to be an insult?!"
>"No? That's the name of the piece. Flight of the Bumblebee, by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov."
"It sounds like an insult. Can we call it Flight of the Mothpony from now on?"
>"No. I don't see how it's insulting."
"I do not like bees."
>"What does that even have to do with the piece?"
"The piece itself? Nothing. I just do not like the name."
>August sneers at you and rolls his eyes.
>"I won't tolerate such Philestinian thoughts in my house. It's Flight of the Bumblebee."
"Fine! I just won't practice for the rest of the day."
>He waves his hand and stares down at the keys.
>His cheeks turn red as he swallows.
>You climb into his lap and hug him around the neck.
"I am sorry, August."
>August wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your neck fluff.
>"You didn't do anything, Actias."
"Are we still going to practice?"
>"No, no. I think we're done for the day."
>You pat his back with a hoof.
"I will practice all day tomorrow. No complaints."

>He smiles against your fluff.
>"We'll decide on an audition song and practice that, alright?"
"Alright."
>"In the meantime, you've been up all day and need to sleep."
>His fingers brush over your feelers as he strokes your mane.
"I will sleep through the night, with you. Then we can practice together for a longer amount of time."
>August laughs softly as he hugs you tighter.
>"Well, you can have the bed you and your friends decided to tear up. I'll take the couch."
"Hey! Do not blame that on me, I tried to fix it!"
>You squeak angrily and buzz your wings a little bit.
>"Calm down. You can have the couch if you want."
"But you will be cold if you are alone."
>"I can cover up with blankets."
"We can cover up with blankets."
>You put a little bit of emphasis on the "we."
>"I guess I can get behind that idea."
>He pinches your nose gently as he stands with you in his arms.
>"We can listen to more music and play with whatever lights you haven't turned into a drumset. Alright?"
"Sounds good to me!"
>August carries you out of the piano room.
>You smile softly at the picture frame.
"I will take care of him for you."