Anon - Like Bread and Butterscotch

"Do you think Sepia will like it?"

"Wha?"

"Do you think Sepia will like it?"

>You look over at him. He stares back.

>A part of you is relived; if Moon Dust doesn't see you as a longterm partner because of what happened before, you might have a chance with one of the moth mares before it's concluded you're gay completely.

>You had expected just to be boyfriends or something after that. Apparently not.

>This also means Moony's not gay. And Sepia, of all moths?

/I guess he's full of surprises. Not sure he knows what he's getting himself into, but by definition that is puppylove for ya./

/Well, it could be worse; at least she won't break his heart over her knee to get him to leave her alone or something./

>You imagine trying to convince him that going after Sepia is not a good idea.

>No run of the mental simulation goes over all that well. This in addition to the fact you aren't in a hurry to see Moon Dust become stony and jaded and down-with-love causes you to lean towards letting things run their course, at least for the moment.

"It looks fine, Moony."

>You work on getting the food packed the rest of the way as Moon Dust fiddles with his attire for the party.

>He just has a few more finishing touches, you gather.

>Pepper Dust is hosting. You expect an interesting evening.

>The sun has just gone down.

>------------------------------------------------------------------------------

>The night is coming to a close.

>It *had* been interesting.

>You remember even Shimmer Light had come by.

>Well, not really *come by*, but she had *walked* by.

>You aren't sure whether that was her regular route home or not.

>It probably *was*, given all you'd been told about her.

>You had been standing outside for a sec and had given a wave.

>She did that thing that cats do where they look your direction and stop long enough for you to know that they've seen you.

 

>Practically the whole town had been there, including ponies who were quite often scarce at big parties.

>For example Dawn Gleam had showed, though left hours ago after having arrived politely on time, staying long enough to get some food and chat for a bit.

>You'd expected her to be more awkward, given the attention to timeliness stacked with the fact that she rarely sees half the town because of her day-ly schedule (which is actually during the day, unlike the other moths, especially those you'd hung out with).

>She is probably awake again presently; the sun is now out.

>Sequin and Cinnamon left as it was starting to become light, both tipsy and giggling.

/Should've guessed they were sisters, really. Now seems so obvious./

>Whelp, at least you have it straight now. You didn't stick your foot in it as a result of not knowing, either, which is good.

>There are just a few mothponies left -- Butterscotch, Moon Dust, Pepper Dust, and Meisa.

>You -- obviously -- are also there, although not yourself a mothpony.

>The food you helped assemble is heartily eaten, you are now just waiting for Pepper to wash the platter you brought it on, and then you're along your way. The sun is now fully up.

>You're on the couch across of Butterscotch.

>She got really hammered. Not throw-up drunk, but just- well?

>You aren't sure if moths can even throw up.

>She seems happy, though, mumbling things to herself unintelligibly.

>Meisa is on the seat next to you, looking a bit tired, but relaxed.

 

>A clatter comes from the kitchen, along with a yelp. It doesn't sound serious.

Meisa turns and calls over the seatback toward the kitchen: "Everything alright in there?"

Moondust calls back right away through the door, "Yeah, everything's fine."

>The big door between the kitchen and living room area is the only weird thing about the place.

>Well, other than that moss that Amata and Pepper fostered to help Pep with his allergies.

>Other than those two things it's a model home, pretty much.

>You go back to lounging.

>You'll probably be up for a few more hours.

>As a daytime creature by nature, seeing the sun always gives you a bit more umph.

>Sunrise always makes the moths tired, most of them.

>When keeping the usual night-time schedule so you're in synch with pretty much everyone, you generally try to get to bed while it's still dark out so you don't get reminded biologically of the normal time you're *supposed* to be up and about.

>There's some shuffling from the kitchen. Probably cleaning up of whatever was dropped.

>You hear Moon Dust's voice. There's some tension in it.

>Tentatively, you start to stand up.

>You're now hearing Pepper as well.

>They'd been talking on-and-off the whole time and the door had blocked much sound coming through, but they've grown loud enough to hear.

>Meisa has gotten up as well.

>You look back at her with a look of concern, which she simply mirrors on her face without a gesture.

From behind the door: "Hey! Don't-"

>More shuffling.

/Okay, that's it./

>You pull the door open.

>Moon is standing in the near corner across from the door, teary-eyed, with one forehoof raised protectively, as if a physical confrontation had just been interrupted.

>Pepper Dust is a few paces away from him.

/This can't be what it looks like.../

 

>A mop stands propped against a wall in the opposite corner.

>Pepper gives you a smouldering look and goes back to doing dishes.

>No one says anything.

>Meisa has poked her head in. Her expression is not legible.

>You glance at Pepper. His eyes are down, on the sink and dishes.

>Still not sure what happened, you hold a hand out to Moon Dust.

>He runs over to you faster than expected and rears up into your arms, colliding with enough force to make you grunt.

>Regardless, you put your arms around him and return his hug. Your hands are greeted by his ruff in back, which is amazingly soft, as always.

/Well, at least he's not limping./

>His breaths are shallow and his heart is going kinna fast. You hold him.

>There's one little jerking start in his breathing that happens, which you take to be a little sob that he's choked back.

>You don't feel another one. Had he just been startled by mistake?

/No, there is a bit more to it than that./

>Your mind is rolling like a cloudfront, trying to calculate what might have just happened. You can't.

>The clink of dishes rings occasionally as Pepper Dust washes.

>You push you anger back for now and focus on Moon Dust.

>Though his heartrate stays up from it's usual, his breathing slows down before long.

>You withdraw from the hug but still have your hands on his shoulders. You look at him, trying to get a read.

>With a forehoof, he pushes your arm down and wipes and an eye. You drop your other hand; he doesn't to be touched right now.

A sniff. "Everything is fine, Anon."

>With wet eyes, he looks at you. Without warning, he forces a smile, and holds it, with you in his gaze.

>It's the saddest damn thing you've seen since you came to Equestria.

>You're trying your hardest to just keep yourself from tearing up.

>An unexpected tap at your shoulder from behind you.

>You're startled, but don't jump. It's Meisa.

 

In a quiet tone: "I was gonna take Butterscotch home, but I can take Moon Dust. Do you wanna trade me?"

>She gestures.

>You glance at the sink. You'd much rather walk Moon Dust back yourself but sure enough, your dish isn't clean yet.

>It looks like it's going to be the last one out of the sink, here.

>You *would* just leave it, but Pepper Dust has an appointment here at the house and he might not have room enough for the huge thing to get it away neatly. He is kindof particular.

>For Moony's sake, it's probably better he get home swiftly. He won't be alone. You trust Meisa.

Softly: "Uhmh. Yeah. I can take Butters instead."

>You knew where she lived. Er, wait- that /had/ been her house you were at the other day and not Birc-

>Meisa leaves with Moon Dust before you can ask to confirm.

>You think to go after them but are interrupted.

From the couch, loudly: "Why am I alooooone allofasudden?"

"Anon." Pepper Dust shoots you a glance. That was your cue apparently.

>You go over to Butterscotch.

>You aren't sure if she can walk at this point, muchless fly. This is going to be an endeavor.

>Again because of the appointment here first thing "tomorrow," she can't just sleep on Pepper's sofa.

>You plop down next to her so she'll notice she's now in company.

"Oh, hello Mr. Anon."

>Partly laying back, she yawns and stretches casually.

"Just 'Anon.'" You correct.

Silence, then: "MISTERRRRRR ANOOONNNNN!" She gestures emphatically, as if welcoming you onto some stage as a known celebrity. Think Steven Universe -level hammy-ness here.

>It gives you a chance to laugh off some tension, at least.

"Meisa tells me you can just sleep in tomorrow."

>She grabs onto your hand unexpectedly in a hoof.

"You know? That's so wwwwonderful! I llllluv sleeping in!"

>She releases it as big gestures go right along with the overemphasis on words.

>It seems like she's still on stage, in her head.

>You'd been that drunk before. Good times.

 

>You try to make conversation for a minute;

"You drank everyone under the table, Butterscotch."

"It kinna just- *happens*... you know? When yo're meeeeee- it happins. See because me?" She's paused.

>You look back over. She is pointing and trying to look very serious.

>She looks ridiculous trying to appear stern at a time like this but you manage to just grin instead of breaking into a laugh.

She continues, "Me-I take 'em for the team, you know? Everypony had a good time, right?"

You nod reassuringly. Truthfully: "It was a pretty good party."

>Heck, it would've been a *great* party if not for that little scuffle or whatever it was between Pepper and Moon Dust.

>You still have to talk that out with Meisa and figure out what happened.

>She'll probably have more subtlety talking to Moony about it than you anyways, so it's good that she took him home.

>She really is sharp as a tack, not unlike another pony you'd known who also dabbled in fashion, only Meisa knew when she could drop the pretentious act that her profession sometimes carried.

>You were lost on that train of thought for a second but Butters brings you back, tapping on your arm rapidly as she talks, drawing your attention.

"See, 'cuz I'm like that Bolt guy, you know?"

>You process, then guess:

"The runner, Usain Bolt?"

"Yeah, that's him! The *fastest* anon!"

>She meant 'human,' but you didn't correct her. She already wins points for remembering the conversation you'd had about him earlier that night.

"See? I'm always gunna haf the high score, rite? And I can't help that." She then paused for effect. "But I encourage everyone. They know to try hardest because of me that believes in them!"

 

>You aren't quite sure you'd followed but you make sure:

"Soo everyone gets drunk, is what you're saying."

"That's RIGHT!" She gestures towards you with both hooves. "Everyone gets *DRUNK!*" She tosses her hooves up and flops back onto her back as she says this, a blissful expression on her.

/This is going swimmingly./

>Although a great warmth and presence is about Butterscotch most of the time, it was lessened when you were there; she'd seemed to be a little spooked still when around you.

/Apparently that goes away when she's had quite this much booze. So noted./

>You nodded to yourself. Glancing through the doorway, Pepper finally had your big platter in hoof.

>You sighed, and surveyed your upcoming trial.

/Hell, she's almost as big as I am./

>While not quite the same minimum orthographic measure as Pepper Dust, she more than made up for it in girth.

>You have never asked, but either of them probably weighs about as much as you do, if not a little bit more.

>Pepper Dust walks from the kitchen with your dish, drying it off.

>You tried to be smooth about your next request, here, and accept the dish back.

"You don't happen to have a wheelbarrow, do ya, Pepper Dust?"

>He responded flatly,

"You're kidding, right?"

>You rubbed the back of your neck and motioned.

"Unless you need it for your showing, then-"

>He cut you off,

"I'll go get it."

 

>Pepper is getting more on-edge as that appointment gets closer, here.

>Another date for the whole gettogether would have been optimal, but this had been the last night a few of the ponies there would all be around for a while, meaning the two times ended up one right after the other. So it was.

>He's wheeled it around through the front door now, from back in the herb garden.

>The wheel is clean, so he rolls it right up next to the couch. He gives you a wry look as if to imply "Take it away, ringleader."

>He heads back and starts mopping, looking increasingly tired.

"Uh- i-is that it, Pepper, anything I can stay to help you with?"

>He shakes his head.

"No. Thanks though. I'm mopping myself right to my bedroom from here."

>He sneezes several times, each one slightly more distant down the hallway leading off from the kitchen.

>He made an effort just there, to be nice to you.

/Hmmmm.../

"I'm sure I've been there once, but again what direction is Butterscotch's house?"

"East, I think, but don't quote me on that. Here and some parts of the hospital are the only places I can be for too long without my nose going c-c-c-cra- so-" he sneezes and then doesn't finish the last syllable. He'd had a long night.

/Right, because of his condition, usually ponies are the ones to visit /him,/ not the other way around, so it makes sense he isn't sure./

>Alas, but you should get going.

"Butterscotch?"

>She is dozing but wakes up enough to mumble.

"Huh- wha?"

>She blinks sleepily.

"We're still at Pepper Dust's but we need to go, alright?"

"Oh, okay yeah. Alright."

>She immediately starts nodding off again.

"Butterscotch. I need you to roll over, okay?"

>You prod her. Swiftly, you take off your jacket to pad the inside of the barrow's tub a little.

>There's already a sandbag or two which Pepper Dust might have added out of consideration. You cover them.

 

>You start to pry at the whitish, somewhat-adipose ellipsoid on the couch by the wheelbarrow.

>Luckily, the two heights aren't all that different.

>You pull from her shoulder. The tissue squishes in your grip, but you hold onto it and patiently pull.

>The skin there isn't weak so this will either feel a bit good to her or only hurt just a little.

>Mostly likely neither if she just stays unconscious.

>You pull at the big, semi-fluid dollop of mothpon before getting her close to the edge and finding a spot for a fulcrum to help you splat her into the tub you had readied.

>You look behind you and consider the situation.

>Thinking smart, you slide the other couch a bit closer.

>It will give you a better backstop if the wheelbarrow starts to tip over right away once Butters is totally in it.

>Of course, having thought that far ahead, you don't end up needing it.

>You successfully have the breathing, whitish-winged sack into the single-wheeled cart, and now are ready to depart with her.

/East... *seems* right?/

>Anyway you head east.

>Toward the end of the boardwalk you start to see a cluster of houses that look familiar, although you're not sure which one is Butters' place.

>You consider waking up your passenger at this point...

>...However, you'd gone down several stairs as a result of not knowing where all the ramps were, and Butters had yet to stir, you doubted she would now.

>You try the front door which is nearest to the south.

>The village hospital is visible overhead some distance away, the southernmost building inside the village.

>The house door is locked.

"Damnit. I thought everyone here kept their doors unlocked. Well..." You turn to Butterscotch. "Either we're at the wrong house or you've locked yourself out. I'm not going to just grope you until I locate your keys as I don't even know this is the right house. So... I guess we're not far from my place, but as for getting you up the stairs..."

 

>You hear the lock moving.

"Oh, uhm. Hello there."

>You turn back. An off-white mothmare with a green mane is at the door. You speak first,

"Hi. Uhm. I'm in a bit of a bind, uh. This- doesn't happen to be where Ms. Butterscotch lives, does it?"

>You pointed at the sleeping pony in the cart as a visual aid.

>The mare answers,

"I- well. I don't know. I mean, no it isn't, because I live here."

>She looks pretty crummy. You hope you didn't wake her up.

"Could you tell me where she lives then? I'm just trying to get her home so I can get some rest myself."

"I- I'm new to the village. I don't even know everypony's names yet, so I-"

"Aha. Really sorry to bother you then." Your mind is racing as to how you'd get this white speckled lummox up a whole flight of stairs back at your place. You sigh and then think out loud. "Okay, well. It's about time to give up and go home then. Most moths will be soundly asleep by now so I shouldn't keep knocking on doors."

>You try to think of where Dawn Gleam lives -- as she'd be awake -- but can't quite remember. You haven't really made it in with her circle of friends yet so you'd never been sent there, only perhaps lead once or twice, no doubts via confusing shortcuts through the village.

"Y-y-you know- I'm about to leave town for the day, and I still have a few liters of j-juice left, a-and I've g--got a spare bed you could-"

>You bless your luck.

"Main floor?"

>She looks down.

"Well, m-my bed's on the m-m-main floor, and the g-guest bedroom is up a flight. W-we c--could trade and then-"

>You love small towns because of this. Folks were *actually* nice.

>The level of distrust back home had made the odd day obscenely difficult.

>Hell, you can only imagine what it would be like for a pony stuck back where YOU were from.

>They'd be left to die, no doubt! Nobody wanted another mouth to feed there.

"SOLD."

 

"You already know Butterscotch's name and I'm-"

"Anon, right?"

>You step over to the wheelbarrow and grab the handles.

"You've heard of me!"

"My name's Reverie."

>You lift up so the single wheel can turn and waddle toward the door.

"Well, Reverie, listen. Not six months ago I was just like you," six months wasn't quite right but it sounded great, "and I didn't know a soul in town, and now I'm a designated, erh- well- wheelbarrow operator!"

>If your attempt to look or sound cool were a front-flip your neck would be bent and your face would be bloody.

>She giggles, apparently taking it to be a good joke.

"Well c-come on in, then. The tea's on. You like ginger?"