"Swan Song - Octavia x Anon - Part 5"
By MLP-CYOA-Writer-Dude (https://pastebin.com/u/MLP-CYOA-Writer-Dude)

URL: https://pastebin.com/gjcFLjxQ
Created on: Sunday 1st of June 2014 12:49:28 AM CDT
Retrieved on: Sunday 25 of October 2020 10:53:23 AM UTC


>You slowly open your eyes, letting the world around you to come into view.
>An open window lets in a cool breeze and a calm sunlight.
>With much effort, you manage to sit up.
>You are in Octavia’s bedroom.
>But she isn’t anywhere in sight.
>You faintly remember the night before….
>A thief came in to Octavia’s apartment to rob her once more.
>And you stopped her.

>You look at your arm.
>It was wrapped in a bunch of bandages.
>A little it of blood had soaked through.
>No matter.
>You could hardly even feel your arm as it is.
>You try and move your fingers, only to have them slowly and weakly move.

>Your chase of the thief was only worth it if you still had your money.
>You remember blacking out with the money in hand….
>You scan the room for your bag of bits.
>After a brief search, you spot the bag on the ground across the room, dirty from last night.
“Whew.”
>You force yourself out of the bed and walk over to the bag.
>With a bit of effort, you use your good arm to lift the bag up and throw it on the bed.
>You sit back on the bed, feeling a bit of strain.

>”You need to take it easy, dear.”
>You turn and see Octavia.
>She gives you a weak smile as she approaches you with a tray of food on her back.
“I’m fine, I think. Just need to stretch it out, I think.”
>You try and stretch your bad arm, only for a pain to stop you almost instantly.
>You groan as Octavia places the tray on the bed.
>”Trust me, Anon. Just take it easy for me, okay?”
>You nod, sighing deeply.
“I got the money back. That’s all that matters.”
>Octavia frowns at you.
>”I could care less about the money, Anon! You’re seriously hurt!”
“I care about the money! Considering how hard I worked for it?”
>”Then it’s my fault you are hurt!”
“It’s not your fault at all!”
>The pain in your arm causes you to wince a bit.
>You take a few deep breaths, holding onto your arm.
>”Anon….”
“Some lowlife thief tried to come in and rob us, and I did what I had to do to get back what was stolen!”
>Octavia’s eyes begin to well up.
>”I’m so sorry… I’m sorry that this is happening to you. I’m so sorry you’re in the middle of all of this!”

>She leaves the room before you can say anything.
>You sit quietly on the bed.
>The front door shuts loudly.
“….”
>You want to go after her.
>And you will.

>Just not yet.

~

>You are Octavia.

>Anon is badly hurt.
>And it’s entirely your fault.
>If you hadn’t made him work so hard… and try to do so much for you….
>He wouldn’t be in this mess.
>It would be just you.
>You prefer it that way.
>It’s not fair to Anon.
>He almost got himself killed last night.
>What would you have done if that happened?
>You don’t even want to think about that….

>His arm was brutally ravaged when you found him in that alleyway.
>A dark blue mare was by his side, attempting to bandage his arm.
>There was… so much blood everywhere.
>You thought he was….
>He was laying face down on the ground; his bag of bits clenched in his other hand.
>You tried to offer to help her, but she said she didn’t need help.
>She told you to just take care of him.
>The mare wasn’t apprehensive at the fact that he was a human.
>Though she was acting quite nervously.
>Perhaps she was scared for Anon’s life, as you were.
>Within a few minutes, she had managed to patch his arm with plenty of bandages.
>You wanted to thank her, but she simply ran off before you could say a single word.
>If she wasn’t there to help him, you don’t know what might have happened to….

>You take a seat in your usual bench in Central Park.
>This is the first time you’ve been here since Anon visited last time.
>The time when you still had your cello.
>It was different being here now.
>Uncomfortable, but familiar.
>It makes you wish that you still were playing….

>Soon you wouldn’t be able to even walk here.
>You’ll be too far away to be able to come here as often as you’d like.
>And with that, the memories will go, too.
>Maybe that’s for the best.
>Just forgetting your past.
>Starting over.

>You don’t particularly see another option.

>Two old mares approach you, with smiles on their faces.
>You wave happily at them as you recognize them.
>They use to come by everyday when you played, and they would always tip you.
>”Dearie! It’s been such a long time!”
>The other mare nods in agreement.
>”Too long, if you ask me.”
>You smile at the mares.
“It’s good to see the two of you.”
>”Well where is your cello?”
>”We are here for a performance! We’ve been coming every day, hoping you’d come back!”
>”And here you are! So how about it?”
“Well… I-I’ve taken a short break from playing.”

>One of the older mares gives you a confused look.
>The other gives out a loud guffaw.
>”Break? Musicians don’t take breaks!”
>”Not at all! Not at all!”
>”At least not musicians from our time!”
>”Absolutely right. Being a musician used to mean that all you did was music, all the time.”
>”All the time!”
>”No matter what. Music was your destiny. And it would show!”
>”Woo nelly, it would show. They were a different class, back then.”
>”But it’s not like you aren’t as good as them!”
>”Heck, I’d say that you have much more skill than they did!”

>You sigh and shake your head.
“It’s not that easy…. I-I don’t have-“

>”What you don’t have is an excuse!”
>They give you a friendly smile.
>”Now you listen here, dearie. Don’t you take any more breaks! That’s not what it means to be a musician!”
>”She’s right, you know. You are killing yourself without music. Do you know that?”
>”Yeah! Music is what you live for, isn’t it?”
>”Why would you try and stop doing what makes you feel alive?”
>”Even if it’s for a second, it’s not worth it.”
>”If you had any doubt that you couldn’t be a musician, then why did you pursue it as you did?”
>The two mares laugh in unison.
>”We’ll come back next week, dearie.”
>”And we better get some darn music!”
>”Because you’re good!”
>”Because you’re talented!”
>”And most importantly of all….”
>The clear their throats and shout together:
>”YOU ARE A MUSICIAN!”
>The laugh and trot away.

>You sit in silence.
>Those old mares sure are something else.
>But… they were right.

>You’re a musician….
>You’ve always been….
>You shut your eyes and relax.

>You have a lot to think about.

~

>You are Anon.
>And you’ve had quite the busy morning.
>Octavia’s absence gave you an opportunity to take care of some things.
>Things that you know would help her get her life back together.

>You managed to find Octavia a new apartment in the Art District, close to her favorite éclair shoppe.
>Even though she was planning to move with her friend’s relative, this was going to be better for her.
>And you know why.
>You weren’t trying to change her life or be controlling.
>But Octavia has forgotten what music means to her.
>You were going to remind her.
>That was your goal.

>You leave the leasing office with keys in hand.
>She would be able to move in today, and live there happily and rent-free for eight months.
>It was one of the safest apartment buildings around, you made sure of it.
>And, of course, it was in the Art District.
>What better environment to enrich her artistic spirit?

>Your bag of bits was a bit lighter than it was, but you were in no way short on money.
>The rest of your plan was going to fall into place perfectly.
>You just needed… a clue….
>Something to point you in the right direction….

>You needed to find a cello.
>But how?

>You decide to walk down the Art District, back towards Octavia’s old apartment.
>Keeping an eye out for any sign of a cello for sale.
>Suddenly, you notice two old mares heading into a small shop at the corner of a street.
>They looked oddly familiar.
>You head over to the shop.
>You have an odd feeling that they can help you.

>The windows of the shop were boarded up, though there was a pleasant welcome sign.
>You head inside, greeted by the chime of an arpeggiated piano.
>The shop is well-lit and absolutely full of various instruments, from wall to wall.
>Jackpot.
>You begin to look around, searching for any cellos that could be for sale.
>Many of the instruments were older models, and a handful of them came accompanied with a monochrome photograph of a musician whom you could only presume played on the same one.
>This shop was more of a museum if anything.
>A darn cool one at that.
>After scouring the entire shop, you finally encounter a cello.
>It was hidden in the corner of the store, in a large glass case.
>It too was an old instrument, with a photograph of a gruff looking stallion with a posture that would only come from years and years of practice.
>The photograph was even signed.
>The rosewood body of the cello was beautifully polished, with literally no signs of damage or wear.
>From scroll to endpin, this cello was a marvelous sight to behold.
>A true work of art.
>One perfectly befitting a cellist like Octavia. 

>You feel your bag of bits get light.
>This one was going to hurt your wallet.
>But you were ready for this.

>”She’s a beaut, ain’t she, Mara?”
>”That she is, Batta.”

>You turn around to the sight of the two old mares from earlier.
“Oh! Hello, there!”
>The mares smile at you and walk next to the cello case.
>”Yup, this same cello was played by Pablo Clopals.”
>”Mhmm, he used this instrument for most of his life.”
>”That he did.”
>”And what a looker!”

>You laugh as the one named Batta glares at Mara.
>You step backwards and examine the mares.
>You recognize them from your last visit to Manehattan!
“I remember seeing you two in a coffee shop many weeks ago.”
>Mara turns to you.
>“Is that right? You look familiar as well. Then again, we don’t get many of your kind around here.”
>You scratch your head.
“Y-yeah… I kind of overheard the two of you talking about a certain cellist who plays in Central Park.”

>Batta turns and stares at you.
>”A certain cellist? There’s only one cellist you must be talking about!”
>”Of course, Batta. He’s talking about that wonderfully talented dear we also listen to.”
>”Well, USED to listen to!”
>”A shame, really. She just up and stopped playing!”
>”Now, Mara, she is taking a break remember?”
>”Hmph, how could I forget? It’s no excuse for a musician of her level to be-“
>You get in between the two mares.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt, but do you… know her well?”

>They both nod in unison.
>”Of course. We know most of the talent around here.”
>”Batta’s right. But that dearie is SOMETHING ELSE!”
>”That’s the truth, Mara.”
>They cackle and laugh.
>You scratch your head.
>They knew about Octavia.
>You weren’t sure if they knew the real reason why she stopped playing, but this may be your chance to get her Clopals’ old cello.

>You shake your head and sigh.
“It’s unfortunate, but her cello was destroyed a few weeks ago.”
>The two mares stare quietly at you, their mouths ajar.
>”Are… are you serious?”
>”W-wow….”
>You nod solemnly and approach the cello.
“Octavia and I are close. I was with her the night it was destroyed. She hasn’t been the same since then.”
>”Well… how did it happen?”
“A thief came in and destroyed her things while we were out.”
>Mara gasps, her eyes wide as can be.
>”What a shame!”
>”How horrible!”
>You nod.
“And that brings me here. I’ve spent the better part of the last month working to make enough money to replace her cello.”
>The mares fan themselves, smiling.
>“What a gentlecolt!”
>”She is so lucky to have a coltfriend like you!”
>You laugh nervously and blush.
“Well… she doesn’t know that I’m doing this. Music is her life. I didn’t want to see her stop doing it. In fact… music is the whole reason why we met.”
>You put a hand on the glass case.
“I don’t know how the two of you feel about this, but I am really interested in buying this cello from you.”
>Their smiles slowly turn into frowns.

>”You want to… buy this cello?”
>”That’s what the dear said, Mara, you old coot.”
>”I know what he said! And that’s the problem.”
>You sigh and shake your head.
“Look, I can tell that this instrument is a big deal. It may even be priceless. But I beg you to consider my offer. I can’t pay anything that you may want, but I may have enough to cover it….”
>You pull your heavy bag of bits out and drop it on the floor.
>”I’m afraid it’s not that simple dear….”
>”Batta’s right, dear.”

>The both shake their heads and sigh.
>Mara looks up at you.
>”The instruments in here aren’t usually for sale.”
>Batta pushes Mara away.
>”What she means to say… is that these instruments were gifts from the musicians who played on them.”
>You nod.
>”As such, they have a high sentimental value, as well as monetary value.”
“As I expected. But-“
>”Pablo Clopals was our favorite cellist growing up. We went to almost every one of his concerts as we could afford them.”
>”Mhmm. We have never heard another musician play as beautifully as he.”
>”Mara is right. But… she is also wrong. After so many years, we’ve finally heard another as virtuosic as Pablo.”

>Mara nods, patting Batta’s back.
>”Maybe we can make an exception just this once?”
>”I think you may be right. The cello would be able to live on.”
>”Music would continue to touch the hearts of millions.”
>”To be heard and enjoyed by all.”

>They both scratch their chins and hum.
“Yeah, yeah! I’m liking the sound of this! So what do you say?”
>The mares look at each other and nod.
>They sing in unison:
>”Fifteen thousand bits!”~

>Your heart stops beating.
>At least it feels like it does.
>You begin to stutter and stammer.
“U-Uh… f-fifteen THOUSAND?”
>They nod.
>”Fifteen.”
>”Thousand.”
>”Bits.”
>Each word rings in your eardrums.
>You feel a headache coming on.
>You had enough bits.
>That wasn’t the problem.
>But… that was much more than you expected.

>”Well? Do we have a deal?”
>”That’s quite a steal, if I say so myself.”
>You snap back into focus.
“You’re already helping me out a lot by selling me this instrument. Really. But… I’m going to ask… is there anyway we can agree on a lower price?”
>”Lower?”
>”Price?”
>Batta and Mara hum and scratch their chins.
>Mara taps your thigh.
>”How low we talkin’?”
>You pick up the bag of bits.
“Would twelve be enough for you?”
>Batta nods, Mara shakes her head.
>They glare at each other.

>”Batta, this is Pablo’s cello! Can you imagine how mad he would be if-“
>”Mara! This fine fellow is trying to help out his marefriend!”
“Well, actually-“
>They both silence you with a hoof to the mouth.
>”I get that, Batta. But think of it’s true worth!”
>”You can’t put a price on love, Mara!”
>They knock heads, scowling at each other.
>You pull them apart before they hurt themselves.
>… or the cello.
“The both of you have a point, alright? How about thirteen? Is that better?”
>”Well, Mara? Is it?”
>Mara groans and scowls.
>”Fine. Deal. Only because he is clearly a gentlecolt of the highest standards.”
>”That he is. Deal.”
>They outstretch their hooves to you.
>You bump both of them.
“Deal!”

~

>With your bag of bits significantly lighter, you exit the shop, waving goodbye to the eccentric Mara and Batta.
>Octavia’s new cello is strapped to your back in a tough, hard-shell case.
>You smile as you walk back to her apartment.
>You’ve done it.
>Now all that’s left is to get it to her….
>You work your way up to a sprint.
>No point in wasting any more time.

~

>You arrive to her apartment before the nightfall.
>Hopefully she wouldn’t be too worried about your absence.
>You did leave her a note about looking for some entertainment for the night.
>That should be enough, no?

>You quietly knock on the apartment door.
>No answer.
>You turn the knob, expecting it to be locked.
>To your surprise, it isn’t.
“Hmm… alright.”
>You walk inside and put the cello behind a bunch of sealed boxes.
>You make your way to the bedroom.
>Octavia is asleep on her bed, snoring gently.
>You stifle a laugh as you approach her.
>Time to give her some good news.

>You sit next to her.
>She mumbles and turns over.
>You begin to playfully stroke her black mane.
“Octavia.”
>She groans and mumbles.
“Octavia.”
>She pats you firmly on the arm.
>”Five… fivemoreminush…”
>She begins to snore again.
>You roll your eyes.
>You lean over and kiss her on the neck.
>She grumbles once more.
>”Fine, I’m up, I’m up….”
>She yawns and sits up, pressing her head against you.
>”Sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to fall asleep for this long. I just had a really rough night.”
“It’s not a problem. Really.”
>”And… I’m sorry about earlier, too. I didn’t mean to make such a big fuss about-“
>Your lips stop her from saying another word.

>Octavia shuts her eyes and wraps her forehooves around your neck.
>You put an arm around her, kissing her for a bit longer.
>You pull away, unable to hold the surprise any more.

>Octavia looks into your eyes with much warmth and affection.
>She pulls you into a tight hug.
>”Anon, I missed you so much.”
>You return the hug as best you can.
>She kisses you on the cheek.
>You push her away and smile at her.

“I have something to tell you. Something important.”

>She gives you a look of concern.
>”Of course, Anon! What is it?”
>You can’t contain your excitement.
>You give out a hearty laugh.
>Octavia lets out her own nervous laugh.
>”Um… is everything alright, dear?”

“Everything is great! Well… at least it will be once I tell you this news.”
>She nods, still giving you a concerned look.
>You dig in your pockets and pull out two shiny new keys.
>You place them on Octavia’s lap.
>”Um… what are these for, Anon?”
>Your smile can’t get any bigger.
>But it’s going to have to.
“You don’t have to move to Northern Manehattan. You don’t have to worry about criminals or not paying rent. What you can worry about is not getting overly absorbed in the Art District!”
>”Anon, what is this about? Of course I’m moving to….”
>She stops speaking.
>Her eyes widen as she finally analyzes what you’re hinting at.
>”A-Anon… you… y-you didn’t, did you?”
>You nod.
>”No... no you didn’t!”
“I did.”
>”Really? REALLY?”
“REALLY REALLY!!”
>Octavia wraps you in a tight hug, squeezing all of the air out of your lungs.
>You cough loudly, tapping Octavia on the back.
>She pulls away, laughing and blushing.
>”I’m so sorry! I’m just so excited and happy! I can’t believe that you… you got me a new place to stay!”
“In the Art District!”
>She laughs and clops her hooves together.
>Her entire mood hasn’t been this bright since you first laid eyes on her.
>She was happy once more.
>And that made you feel good.
>Though… there is still the matter of the big surprise in the living room.

>You spend the next few minutes explaining all of the fine details to Octavia regarding her new apartment.
>She keeps sniffling, trying to fight back tears of joy.
>You rub her cheek and give her a big smile.
“And that’s that really. You can move in whenever. We could even go today if-“
>She pulls you into another tight hug.

>”Anon… I just… can’t believe that you did something like this for me.”
>She nuzzles your cheek lovingly.
>”You never cease to amaze me, Anon.”
“Oh, stop it. I just did it because you mean the world to me.”
>She plants a tender kiss on your cheek.
>”You mean everything to ME, Anon. Absolutely, everything.”
>You pull her into a hug.
>Octavia nuzzles your chest and sighs deeply.
>”Wow… my own place. In the Art District. I just….”
>She sniffles again.
>You stroke her mane lovingly.

“Why don’t we head over to your new place now, huh? We could get all of your stuff over there in a couple of trips and-.”
>”But you can’t use your arm, Anon!”
>You shrug.
“No, but we can get the stuff on a cab and….”
>Octavia shakes her head.
>”Anon….”
”We can do it. I don’t mind. I just want you out of this place as soon as possible.”
>She sighs deeply.
>”If you’re sure… then….”
>You plant a kiss on her cheek.
“I’m sure. I’m absolutely positive. We can get it all done before it gets too late.”
>She gives you a smile.
>Her eyes were a bit pink and puffy.
>”I love you.”
>She rests her head against your chest and sighs.
>”My gentleman….”

>It was time for the gentleman to give her the most important gift.
>You lean over and kiss the top of her head.
“Come into the living room with me for a second.”
>She nuzzles your chest.
>”Of course, love. What do you need?”
“I just need you to keep your eyes closed.”
>Octavia laughs.
>”Oh, Anon. Not another surprise. My heart couldn’t take it.”
>You get off the bed and smile at her.
“No surprise. Just trust me.”
>You extend a hand out.
>She grabs it and closes her eyes.

>”Lead the way, my love.”

~

>You are Octavia.

>And you don’t like surprises that much.
>Anon slowly leads you out of the room, hoof in hand.
>”Don’t open your eyes, alright?”
>You nod, keeping your eyes shut tight.

>What could this be about?
>Oh, you hope he didn’t do anything too crazy!
>You were just happy with the idea of a nice dinner.
>Dinner is always nice.
>Maybe some fried rice and eggrolls….
>A nice bottle of wine on the side….
>Candles lit….
>Maybe a few warm éclairs….
>And, of course, your gentleman.
>Your stomach begins to growl.

“Oh, Anon! Is it dinner? I’m starving.”
>Anon chuckles.
>”We can get dinner afterwards, Octavia. Anything you want.”
>Drat.
>So he didn’t bring dinner.
>But he brought something!
>What could it be?
>All you know….
>… is that you don’t like surprises.

>Anon is a surprising individual, though.
>Rather, an astonishing gentleman.
>It never surprises you how much he does to make you happy.

>He never explained how he got all of that money….
>You trust that he worked hard for it.
>In fact, you know that he worked hard for it.
>His body shows it.
>All of his scars, cuts, and scratches.
>He never once complained about them.
>He did it all for you.
>All of it… was for you.

>You sniffle again, fighting back the tears.
>You feel so happy again.
>You can’t ask for anything else.

>Except maybe a chance to start over….
>Swans always find their light, right?
>It was about time you had found yours.

>But never mind that, Octavia.

>There are more important matters at hand.
>What else could he have possibly done for you?
>You were about to find out.
>You stop in the living room.
>Well, what you imagine is the living room.

>”Okay. I’m going to grab something. I want you to just wait here with your eyes closed.”
>You nod.
“Alright, Anon. I really hope that it isn’t something that will attack me or something!”
>Anon lets out a friendly laugh.
>”Just don’t open your eyes until I say something, alright?”
“Alright, alright! I’m ready, love.”

>You kick eagerly at the floor.
>You hear Anon walk across the room and begin to move some things over.
>It sounds like he is moving your sealed boxes.
“Don’t strain yourself, Anon! Please!”
>”Don’t worry, I’m not!”
>After a few seconds of struggling, you hear Anon walk back over to you.
>You hear him place something gently on the ground in front of you.
>”Almost done!”
>You hear a latch open.
>And another.
>And one more.
>….

>And there is silence.

>Anon sighs deeply.
>”Wow, ok…. Are you ready, Octavia?”
>You nod slowly.
“Y-yes.”
>Anon walks over to you.
>He places a hand on your withers.

>“Alright. Open your eyes, Octavia.”

>And just like that, within seconds, your light returned.

>When you feel yourself trapped in darkness for so long, it makes you want to lose sight of yourself.
>It makes you want to lose sight of your own identity.
>You were at that point.
>You were so close to giving yourself up.
>But you didn’t.
>You didn’t because of Anon.

>You knew he was something special.
>You knew it from the moment you met him.

>His efforts kept you from the brink of helplessness.
>He made you a promise that he would help bring you back.
>You didn’t know how.
>You didn’t doubt him.
>But… you never once expected something like this to happen.

>You slowly walk over to the open cello case.
>The rosewood body gleams brilliantly at you.
>The strings shine brightly.
>Every inch of the instrument calls you in.
>You didn’t even know such a perfect instrument existed.
>And yet here it is.

>… here it is.

>You pick a shaky hoof up and strum the open strings.
>They resonate warmly in the air, like the beautiful song of a swan.
>It is nothing like you’ve heard.
>The sound of the strings is vibrant and full of purity.
>The room is filled with this sound, enveloping you in a feeling of pure joy.
>You are unable to hold back any more tears.
>You strum the open strings once more.
>They happily respond with the same warmth and verve as before.
>The tears continue to flow down your face as you run your hoof down the body of the instrument.

>With every inch you touch, you are reminded of your identity.
>You are reminded of your destiny.
>You are reminded of what you owe your life to.
>The longer you feel the instrument, the more real it becomes.
>You feel yourself remembering why you began music in the first place, and why it is something you would never stop pursuing.

>The tunnel is no longer dark.
>You have your light source.
>You have your life back.
>You have everything once more.

>You turn to Anon.
>Unable to speak, you give him a big smile.
>Your tears continue to flow down your cheeks.
>He returns the smile, full of kindheartedness and admiration.

>”Do you like it, Octavia?”

>The longer you look at him, the more love you feel building for him.
>How could you ever repay Anon?
>How?
>After everything hes’s done for you….

>You nod your head, fighting back more tears as best you can, to no avail.
>You run up to him and tackle him to the ground.
>Your press your head into his chest and begin to cry loudly.
>He holds you tight, stroking your mane.
>”Hey now… Octavia….”
>You shake your head, continuing to soak Anon’s shirt.
>You hold him tighter than you’ve ever had.
>You try to open your mouth to talk, but nothing comes out.
>Only more tears.

>Anon rubs your mane gently.
>”I love you….”
>You lift your head up and kiss him on the lips.
>You press hard into him, getting your tears all over his face.
>He doesn’t seem to mind, as he returns the kiss with his own loving force.
>You rub your hooves all over him.
>You feel his body, thankful that he is still there.
>You are thankful that he exists.
>You are thankful that he loves you the way he does.
>The longer you kiss, the more you realize that.

>You don’t ever want to break this loving embrace.
>For the sake of breathing, you do.
>You reluctantly pull away from his lips.
>Anon rubs the tears from your face.

>”I told you everything would be fine, didn’t I?”
>You nod, more tears falling from your eyes.
>”I told you we would get through this.”
>You rub your face against his cheek lovingly.
>”I love you, Octavia.”

>You kiss him once more on the lips.
>Slowly, you pull yourself away from his lips.
>You lie on his chest, sniffling.
>You nuzzle him and sigh.

“I love you, Anon. I love you. I love you….”

>No more pain.
>No more sadness.
>You forget everything bad that happened to you.
>You replace those evil memories with the contentment that Anon has given you.
>Without him, you would still be lost and helpless.
>Without your gentleman, you would have forgotten yourself.
>Without your gentleman, you would have given up and moved on.
>But you didn’t.
>And look where you are now.
>Everything will return to how it was.
>It will be better in fact.
>Because not only has your passion returned, but you have something you didn’t have before.
>A gentleman by your side.

>This piece of music is finished for now.
>Some may call it a swan song, but they would be mistaken.

>This is your maiden voyage.

~

END