Fluttershy among the Ropes and the Tide

At the top of a tower, wrapped in a cold and misty wind, a ragged-looking hooded figure watched the procession of lights advancing down the main street just below him.

"WOOUUUUUUUUUUUUU" he yawned in boredom from the stone window where he was sitting, tired of the voices and music coming from the monotonous celebration taking place that night.

"One more moon... another gala... another dance..." he sighed before letting out a loud burp and settling into his coarse brown blankets.

With careless gestures, he picked the remains of food from between his teeth with his filthy claws. Then, without a second thought, he spat into a nearby flowerpot.

How many galas had he witnessed before? How many more would he have to endure? How much longer would he have to take part in those pompous, elitist rituals? Would he spend the rest of his life like this... like a forgotten piece of furniture in the middle of parties full of supposedly wealthy yet knowledge-starved guests?

He possessed power and cunning, and yet... there he was, alone, being himself.

Bothered by his own thoughts, the stranger turned his gaze away from the dark abyss beneath his feet and looked up at the sky.

Then, as if the firmament had responded to his desire, the clouds tore apart in wisps, allowing the light of a vivid night sky to shine through.

Nine red moons, each in a different phase, shone in perfect alignment, forming a flawless straight line among the stars. For anyone who knew how perpetually dark and clouded that sky usually was, the sight was overwhelming—almost magical.

Surprised, the stranger felt a fleeting emotion. His normally gray eyes flickered with a crimson glow.

But it was a passing feeling. The sky soon closed again, swallowed by the clouds.

Was this a sign of good fortune? he wondered. He hadn’t expected something like this to happen. Perhaps it was just luck... but if it really meant something… maybe he should…

Doubting his own thoughts, he leapt from the window ledge with vigor and fixed his attention on the great object that dominated the dark room.

Then, after a long silence, he spoke:

"Perhaps, my old friend… the time has come to caress your curves once more. You long for it, don’t you? I do… It has been so long. Forgive me if I am not gentle with you, but this time, I want to do it my way. And I don’t care if everyone in Rou hears us. I want to hear your beautiful voice…"

A mischievous smile appeared on his face as his hands—thin and filthy yet adorned with gleaming rings—rested upon the pristine surface of the great golden bell standing before him.

[...]

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