The next day…

Knocking wrenches Cyrus into the realm of the living.

“Sir! Mister Cyrus!” A familiar voice calls. Cyrus’ memories of the previous evening rush past his mind. A sinking feeling of dread overcomes him as the details sharpen.

I’m dead as hell. Execution date: today. That’s Big Blue at the door with her guillotine. Cyrus’ animal brain proposes, logical side still booting up due to the cloud of fatigue clinging to his mind.

Although, that voice doesn’t sound like they’re trying to bust in here and chop my head off…

The knocking resumes, more frantic than before.

“Cyrus! Mister Cyrus!” The voice continues. It’s too familiar for Cyrus to ignore, his logical brain, having finally completed its boot sequence, needed answers. With great effort (not really), he pulls himself out of bed with a mighty huff.

Unrested and dehydrated, Cyrus shuffles to the door whilst tossing the duvet over his body to keep decent. He cracks the door open with his scabbed hand to greet the new arrival, squinting at the bright sunlight assaulting his eyes. A tired and haggard Cutlass stood in the doorway, a big smile plastered on her face. Cyrus’ trepidation melts upon seeing her.

“Oh, thank god it’s you… Give me a minute, my clothes are dry today. I’ll hop in them then you can put the chains on and we can…” Cyrus trails off. Slow and sleep-deprived, his brain makes a deduction.

“Hang on, it’s day. Like morning. Your boss is asleep.”

Cutlass’ grin gets wider.

“She’s decided to release you. You’re now free to go. I came to let you know.” She says, barely able to contain her growing excitement.

Huh? Wait what the… Cyrus’ brain does a backflip, face instantly switching to deep pensive thought. He stands in the doorway, his hand absentmindedly stroking the stubble he had accumulated in the past week.

“You okay?” Cutlass asks, concerned at Cyrus’ unresponsiveness. Cyrus, too engrossed in his thoughts to notice, stares onward. Cutlass’ smile wavers.

She… released me? But I could have sworn she… Nah this has to be some kind of trick or-

“Hey!” Cutlass shouts up at Cyrus, jerking him out of his deep funk.

“Sorry, just uhhh… not really sure what to think at the moment.” Cyrus mumbles, yanking his thousand yard stare down toward Cutlass. She looks back, concern endowing her muzzle.

“Well, she’s also appointed me as your escort. More like I volunteered. I was thinking you might need somepony to keep you company? Especially after… I don’t know. The princess had blood on her face? I thought you two fought.” Cutlass says, her tone tiphoofing around the elephant in the room. Cyrus lets out a grim chortle.

“Wasn’t really a fight.” He grumbles darkly.

“Either way, I thought you might want to talk about it?” Cutlass gently asks, projecting a gentle warmth on her features. Cyrus scoffs. She recoils.

“Nah. I really fucking don’t.” Cyrus mutters, his voice as prickly as a cactus.

“Oh.”

Cutlass looks genuinely hurt.

Shit, I’ve completely bottled that one, Cyrus mentally berates himself as embarrassment rushes to his face. Awkwardness fills the air as both parties remain in silence. Cutlass shuffles around a bit, eyes glued to her hooves.

They’re… kinda cute when they’re not trying to kill me… I really shouldn’t be so edgy. Cyrus muses. Feeling guilty at completely shooting down a well intentioned invitation, he breaks the silence with a dejected sigh.

“Sorry, emotions running high. Thanks. For coming. It’s good to know there’s someone- pony. Somepony out there. Fuckin’ ‘ell” Cyrus murmurs, frustration at his improper lexicon vented through cockney cussing and a slam of the door frame. Cutlass lets out an incredibly forced chuckle.

“It’s okay. I understand.”

The uncomfortable silence wraps Cutlass and Cyrus in its cold embrace. Neither party was willing to meet eyes or risk speaking, lest they say something wrong. Cyrus coughs, fidgeting with the door handle.

Yeah. I’ve fucked it. Stupid moron, your one chance… Cyrus broods, dejection invading his headspace. Clearing his throat, he prepares to salvage his embarrassment. Before he can, Cutlass cuts in: “Um… listen. I really don’t blame you if you don’t want to hang out with me. It’s not like we’ve done a good job earning your trust.”

Cutlass’ tone wavered with an antsy anxiousness. She wistfully turned her head toward the sky, her mind swimming with uncertainties. She draws out a forlorn sigh, despondently drooping her ears downward.

“I should have said something but I didn’t. This shame is mine to bear alone. I’ll leave you alone, sir. Please call on me if you need anything.” Cutlass finishes, professionalism regained in the last two sentences. Her face remains stony, but her golden eyes offer a portrait to her inner machinations.

She is genuinely sad. Cyrus’ heart could not bear to let her remain that way.

“Yeah. It’s okay. I get it, you were just doing your job,” Cyrus starts his ramble, Cutlass’ ears perk right back up in response, “it’s just… I really…”

“You don’t have to say anything if it’s too soon.” Cutlass cuts Cyrus off, gingerly stepping forward. She pauses for a moment to debate something. Mind set, she extends her hoof.

“Um… I really enjoyed talking with you last night. Will you… please give us another chance?” Her courage falters for a moment, “I’d like to be friends with you.” She finishes while hiding behind her indigo mane a tad.

Cyrus, for the first time in a while, lets out a genuine smile not brought on by coping mirth.

“You wanna be friends with the ugly gangly monster demon?” Cyrus jests in an attempt to lighten the mood. Cutlass flinches in response, but her worry is washed away by Cyrus’ growing grin.

“Yeah! Of course,” Cutlass volleys, returning Cyrus’ grin with an impish one of her own, “I mean, who wouldn’t? Once they see you with me, all the cute stallions will be lining up to talk to me. You carry some clout around here you know.” She finishes, throwing on a smug aura. Cyrus lets loose a genuine laugh at her antics.

“What about me?! Sure you get the stallions but where are my… uhhh mares? That feels really weird to say.” Cyrus quips back, injecting faux incredulity into his voice. Cutlass lets lose a hearty guffaw. Tension and trepidation melt away through traded wit.

“I’m sure they’ll be lining up for you too, ya freaky whorse.” Cutlass jibes back with the slyness of a politician, complete with all implied undertones. Cyrus breaks into a hearty chuckle.

“So you heard about that then?” Cyrus sheepishly rubs the back of his head.

“Half the guard has. Not often does somepony have the guile to call the princesses a ‘freaky fucking whorse’. You got teats, that's for sure.”

The pair laugh along, former awkwardness flowing away under the metaphorical bridge. Cyrus lets out a final chuckle, speaking up: “To answer your question. Yeah, friends.”

Cutlass looks like a kid at Christmas. Hoof bumps fist. The deal is sealed.

“Great! So, mister demon ape, what do you want to do?” Cutlass asks, golden eyes reflecting her golden smile. Cyrus tousles his hair in response, itching his scalp in an attempt to get some ideas generated. After a short (very) debate, he settled upon a tried and true British tradition, a tradition that has stood the test of time.

“Let’s go get drunk? Dunno about you but I could use a stiff one. If you’re lucky I’ll get drunk enough to sing. Are you alright with that?” Cyrus proposes. To his immediate relief, Cutlass gives him a nod and a smile.

“Absolutely! Although, we should go to the canteen first for some food. Then I can show you around? After that we can head to the officer’s club, cute stallions and- Don’t pout, you’ll get your mares. You get dressed, I’ll wait.” Cutlass answers, beaming a smile at Cyrus. WIth that, he shuts the door, excitedly leaping to his crumpled clothes that he had left in a ‘dignified’ pile on the floor. He practically flies into them. Whipping his face to his mirror, he starts to fix his hair.

He was beside himself! Finally, things were going to-

Silly, silly Cyrus. Too trusting. His Monster tuts as it materializes. Its black smoke creeps into the room, choking out light and joy. Cyrus grits his teeth in response, feet firmly frozen to the ground.

Fuck’s sake! Not now! Cyrus curses inwardly, caught completely off guard. His Monster, sensing his weakness, shatters into a thousand separate creatures, each one leaping through his mind as they gnash at his attention. They bite and scrape, tearing Cyrus’ joy and happiness into billions of tattered ribbons, never to be whole again.

You’re being played!

You can’t trust them!

YOU DON’T BELONG!

Alone… alone… alone…

She doesn’t care about you…

This is all fake…

They whisper over and over again, each repeating phrase a mouthful out of Cyrus’ calm. Like maggots they infest his mind and grow fat, cocooning into vapid and painful pellets. They torture his soul, metamorphosizing until they burst forth fully formed, ready to possess him.

All Cyrus could hear was the chorus of laughter as he slowly became consumed by His Monster. It growled in abject delight, eager to take control of Cyrus’ body.

I’m here to help… I’m trying to protect you… It whispers sweetly to Cyrus. He knows he needs to do something, he needs an edge, any edge. His Monster had ambushed him, he had no time to prepare an adequate defense nor would erecting one now make a difference.

Cyrus knew he had to counterattack.

Step 1: 分散敌功 [disperse the enemy’s progress].

Cyrus rubs the midpoint between his eyebrows with his thumb, the 印堂 [yintang: name of pressure point]. Placebo or not, it’s just about enough to shake a few of the thoughts off. A minuscule path forward is forged. His Monster rolls its hundred-thousand eyes.

Step 2: 知己知彼 [understand you and your enemy].

This is coming from the actions of another. Her actions are not equal to Cutlass’. Cyrus firmly reasons. The insects loosen their vice grip on his peace of mind as Cyrus slowly bats down each of his worries. His Monster snorts in annoyance.

Step 3: 攻击 [attack]!

I’m going to go out there and make something of this situation! Cyrus declares to himself, stomping his feet in tandem. The largest of his anxieties fade and flutter away, banished by his resolve. His Monster laughs in response.

You’ve already lost. Till next time… It whispers as It slinks into the floorboards and out of sight. Cyrus gently exhales. He lurches to the door and swings it open. The back of Cyrus’ mind flares, quiet infested whispers gently chastising him.

Be on guard!

You’re not like them…

This could be all a trick…

The terrible gnats gnaw at the back of Cyrus’ mind.

Upon seeing Cyrus, Cutlass perks up. This helps quiet Cyrus’ anxiety a little.

“Alright, let’s go!” Cutlass exclaims with a prance, jolting forward with uncontained excitement. Cyrus is glued for a moment, the debilitating whispers planted by His Monster singing its chorus in the back of his head. They scream at him not to leave, to stay safe in the confines of his room. Cutlass shoots back a comradely look, parting lips to say: “Hey! C’mon. You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Coming.” Cyrus replies, lie slipping through his teeth with such convincing ease. He jogs up to a beaming Cutlass. They walk along in lockstep to their destination.

The back of Cyrus’ mind quiets for a moment, but is ever present. There they remain, heavy, fat, and patient, ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

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Celestia sipped her iconic tea out of her iconic teacup, sitting upon her iconic chair with her iconic regalia weighing gently on her iconic frame. The tea was a not so iconic marejeerling this time. First harvest. Produced by a family she had been buying from for generations. The tea had a wonderful floral aroma, no doubt helped by the bits of dried rose included in the blend. Simply put, it was delectable and perfect for the pre dinner snack of her choice: triple chocolate cake.

Celestia’s self destructive habit was sugar. She could eat it in droves, pounds, any form, any place. When cigarettes became popular, she had considered trading in her penchant for sugar. The first puff was quite nice, it made the stress of that particular day ooze out of her mind in heaping globs. The second puff felt great too, making her giddy like a schoolfilly out of class.

It took just about all of her willpower not to get addicted. Celestia knew she had to put a ban on them. Sugar would have to do.

Although, at the current moment, Celestia could have really used a cigarette. Like really really used one. Her mind drifts to the secret strongbox hidden in her safe which sat behind a portrait of the castle.

Life had been incredibly taxing for her. It was just one thing after the other. Budget issues (due to the new tax loophole), political issues (that bastard from the Equestria First party), her sister’s return (for obvious reasons), logistics of Discord’s reformation (still working on that one), and the new arrival, Cyrus.

At first, Celestia was overjoyed. It had been almost impossible for her little sister to make any friends upon her return; she had a thousand years of minuet social cues and interactions to catch up on. Each attempt Celestia made to help her sister make a connection had failed, shattering her heart into fragments of past guilt and shame.

I am still to blame. How could I have been so cold all those years ago… Too pushy… To headstrong… Celestia brooded over her tea, shoveling another mouthful of cake in her mouth to mute the oncoming sadness. Still, Cyrus’ unique circumstances presented an opportunity for her. Here was a creature, new to this land and completely alone.

Sheesh, Luna. Sound familiar at all? Celestia grouses, shoveling yet another mouthful of delightful triple chocolate into her gob. At this rate she’d eat the whole cake before Luna would inevitably shamble her way down to the dining room for breakfast. Celestia’s thoughts turn to the reports about Cyrus.

It took just about every fiber of Celestia’s near infinite willpower to not (lovingly) smack the shit out of Luna for being so daft. Especially after the fountain escapade.

And the time Luna refused Celestia the pleasure of engorging upon the raspberry pie she ordered after Cyrus had stared at it for too long.

And the time Luna insisted Cyrus walk around naked to ‘eliminate the chance of him stealing a weapon to harm somepony with’. Turns out his dick hangs out! Like he said!

There is still hope, perhaps they’ll reconcile.

She had desperately wanted to intervene, to tell them to make nice and be friends. To sing of rainbows and comradery while prancing the meadows of the castle.

But she knew that wouldn’t work.

And she promised herself, never again. Not after……

Not that path, you silly old mare. Celestia gently nudges her mind away from the past. She had spent enough time strolling through those old memories, wishing and wailing for a different outcome.

She has to want it for herself. I’ll leave her alone. Celestia resolves inwardly as the last morsels of cake find their way into her waiting maw. She’d always be there for her little sister, but now she understood she could never force her to do anything. As much as it pained Celestia to see her darling Luna go down the path of alienating yet another potential friend, she had to let her little sister do her own thing.

Celestia, having finished her last bit of triple chocolate distraction, turned her attention to the latest spending report. What she reads makes her wish she had another slice of cake to ease her frustration.

Silver Coat complaining about how much we are spending on public healthcare, again…

As she ponders the incredible display of greed laid out before her, something begins to irk Celestia.

It wasn’t the incredibly obvious attempt at dodging tax the Conservative Party was proposing.

Nor was it the incredibly concerning attitude the latest cabinet had on privatizing the Equestrian Rail Service.

She tries to blink the growing pit of uncertainty away, but it remains. She draws her eyes back to the budget report, only able to read about another two paragraphs before she drops it in disgust.

And to think. These ponies grew up abusing the graciousness of our programs and now they want to slash it to the ground… Maybe I should be more like my sister and tell them I’ll piss-

It clicks in her head. Her sister. Luna was late. Celestia’s uncertainty develops into nervousness. Her sister was never late. She’d always be on time to raise the moon, even when she was off conquering distant lands. Luna would only be late unless something utterly disastrous had occurred and at most for around ten minutes. Celestia glanced at the clock.

Five minutes. Either the world is ending or she’s been hit by a-

On cue, Luna brazenly smashes into the room in a staggered scurry.

The first thing Celestia notices is her bloodshot eyes.

The second is the smell of gin. Strawberry and rhubarb. Luna would only drink it when she was depressed.

The third was the absolute state of Luna’s tail, mane, and worst of all, wings. Hair and feather alike stuck up and out in the most wild and jumbled manner. Luna wasn’t exactly a mare to doll herself up for impressing stallions, but she at least kept it tidy.

“Lu, what the buck.” Celestia flatly exclaims at the thoroughly disheveled Luna. Luna only grunts in response, plopping her backside in her seat.

“Lu, why are you day drinking?” Celestia more demands than asks, brow already knitting together, displaying her frustration. Luna completely ignores her as she peruses the menu. It’s literally the same menu as last month, the castle changes its menu bimonthly. Luna knows this. Celestia, knowing Luna knows, can feel a twitch coming.

“Lu, did something happen? What-“ Celestia’s sentence is stunted by a fat sigh from across the room. With a gentle prod of Luna’s mind, she flicks the menu onto the table as she crosses her forehooves, striking the infamous petulant teenager pose.

“Tis not day drinking if it is past five o’clock post meridiem. I know your rules.” Luna bluntly mutters as she drives her muzzle into her wing, nipping at the offending feathers. Celestia’s eye finally completes its twitch. She knows she can’t win this one, so she tactfully switches the subject.

“Okay, fine, you got me. But, pray tell, why are you late?” Celestia asks in as gentle a tone as she can muster. Luna scoffs flippantly as she rips a mouthful of feathers out of her wing. She then spits them out onto her bread plate, earning a very raised eyebrow from Celestia.

“I am not late. I am due to raise the moon in thirty five minutes.” Luna declares before diving back into her wing, straightening her primaries.

“Lu, that’s not what I mean. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh buck off, Tia!” Luna shouts, accidentally ripping a blood feather out. She lets out a cry of pain, her horn instantly flashing to contain the bleeding. Celestia, spurred by the violent language and actions, pushes her chair back with a loud screech. She stomps onto her four hooves, face flickering between hurt and upset.

“Luna, please tell-“ Celestia is cut off by the sound of Luna’s glass smashing against the wall. Celestia is shocked still, her eyes darting to the broken glass. Luna lets out a guttural scream.

“WHAT IS THE BUCKING POINT!” Luna screams, fresh tears budding in her eyes. Instantly, Celestia moves to comfort her sister but she is rebuked when a dinner set goes sailing past her head and into the wall behind her. Celestia’s irises shrink to pinpricks, painful memories rushing and gushing to haunt her once more.

“WHY AM I HERE?! JUST TO RAISE MY INFERNAL MOON? NAY! THOU ART MORE THAN CAPABLE!” Luna howls to the ceiling. Luna brings herself to look at Celestia. Luna’s heart stops.

Celestia was shaking, magenta eyes dim and not present. Luna’s self loathing is doubled, crushing her lungs, filling them and drowning her. She sobs into her hooves.

“I-I am j-just a-“

Luna’s stuttering ramble is cut short by Celestia ramming her with a hug. She wraps her little sister with her ethereal wings. Luna gently raises her gaze to meet Celestia’s.

“Tia… I…is there no redemption for me? Am I doomed to repeat myself? Over and over…” Luna whispers, voice giving way to her emotions. Celestia gives her sister a loving nuzzle as she strokes Luna’s back with her wing.

“Lulu, please. Tell me.” Celestia begs, wiping Luna’s tears away with her primaries. Luna’s eyes find every space in the room but her sisters as she shivers in shame. Celestia never relinquishes her hold, guiding her out of her breakdown as she had done so many times before. Luna’s sniffles subside, with shackling shame, she tells her sister what she did.

How she bullied and belittled him, just to get a rise.

How she tormented and tortured him, just to see how he’d react.

How she stalked him in his sleep, desperately trying to pry into his dreams, to invade his mind.

“I wished upon everything I held dear that he was evil. I wished that I would be the one to prove it. I…” Luna can’t finish, the words are like glass, ripping her throat as she tries to eject them. Celestia’s heart breaks into a million pieces again as she watches her little sister wallow.

Celestia did not need an explanation as to why Luna committed those acts.

She knew full well. And that was the most painful part.

Everyday, Celestia watched Luna torment herself, trying desperately to win the love of ponies who would shun her anyway.

“Why did you leave him in my charge?” Luna asks, voice barely audible to the room. Celestia drags out a forlorn and distraught sigh, looking her sister in the eye.

“I think you know why.” Celestia whispers, analyzing every facet of Luna’s features to discern her reaction. Luna remains still, deep in pensive thought. Slow realization dawns on Luna, flashing behind her eyes as she mulled it over. Regret takes firm root on her features. Celestia’s already broken heart shatters again. Luna lets out a cold, mirthless laugh.

“And I shunned him instead of helping. Like he needed….” Luna cannot finish.

Not because of her tears, they had already run out.

Her emptiness fills the room with its tar blackness as she fixes her gaze on the dinnerware she had destroyed. The two sisters remain there, an all too familiar scene. With trepidation, Luna dares to glance upward at her sister, posing a question.

The question Luna had kept to herself for the past three months.

“Tia, am I a mistake?” Luna asks, barely above the ambient night sounds.

Celestia had prepared an answer for her question. Ever since her dear sister’s return, she spent hours in front of the mirror, selecting words with her years of political practice. Toning her expressions as she had done when comforting grieving husbands during tragedies long past.

All that practice was for nothing. Celestia could not form the words as she looked back into Luna’s broken eyes.

“Tia, is it too late for me?”

The implication is painfully obvious. It shatters the dam.

“No! Luna no please don’t say that! I *sob* please. I can’t lose you… please don’t give up…” Celestia begs between her heaving sobs.

“Spare your tears, sister. I am not worthy.”

“LUNA NO!” Celestia screams, guttural and primal, causing the room to vibrate as she projects her voice through the castle. The magic sound barrier glows, struggling to contain the audio bombardment.

Celestia breaks down, thousands of years of composure shattered by the crushing weight of a thousand years of loneliness. Unbridled and uncontrolled, with no end in sight she sobs. Like she promised herself she wouldn’t.

Especially not in front of the one she desperately needed to be strong for.

Luna no this is my fault all my fault everything is because I ignored you and told you you weren’t good enough and forced you to change and-

Suddenly, Celestia’s inner breakdown is halted when she feels an intense pressure around her midriff. Her eyes snap open to find her sister crushing her with a hug of her own, muzzle tracing the length between her chest and neck in desperate fashion. They lock eyes.

In unison, they plead: “I’m so sorry.”

Celestia returns her sister's hug, gently bringing her muzzle to Luna’s cheek, caressing in slow motions. The crying subsides slowly as a gentle warmth returns to the room. The two sisters share a moment in each other’s embrace, gently rubbing each other in comforting motion.

Just like the first time they stood beside their best friend’s grave, finding solace in loving embrace. Knowing that they could share their pain.

How many loved ones has she seen die, with no one to turn to? Luna pondered, bringing a hoof to her sister’s cheek.

How hurt were you when I turned you away, those thousand years ago. Celestia wondered, pressing her sister’s hoof deeper into her cheek to feel the warmth.

“I love you.”

“I love you too”

Does it really matter who said what?

Begrudgingly, they relinquish their hug. Luna, sober and somber, focuses her magic, fixing the broken dinnerware that lay scattered across the room.

“Perhaps the two of us were not being honest enough with each other.” Luna says. Celestia gives her a weak smile.

“Perhaps…” Celestia starts before melancholy forces her sentence down a different path, “I’m sorry, Luna. I should be strong. I should-“

“Nay. No more. It was never you or I who needed to be strong for the other. Just to be there.” Luna interrupts. Celestia breaks out into a smile more radiant than her sun, letting out a relieved laugh as her tension melts away. The two sisters take their seats in earnest.

“So. What are you going to do about Cyrus?” Celestia addresses the elephant in the room.

Luna’s face becomes the battleground for a fierce war. Regret, sadness, embarrassment and despair wage on, fighting for control.

In a flash, out of nowhere, a victor emerges. Determination. Real determination.

“The truth, sister. He may hate me for it. Verily, he already detests me. But he deserves the truth.”

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.

Cyrus had a real pep in his step, he was almost skipping as he sailed his way down the castle vein.

Yes he was kinda drunk. Seven kirin pints (human pints mind you not prissy pony pints) was more than enough for the half breed, especially without having eaten much prior.

Inebriation aside, Cyrus was genuinely happy, which was great! It had been about a week since he had felt that way, he felt he was due for a break.

Hanging out with Cutlass had been a great experience. Surprisingly, none of the ponies stared at him or called him a demon monkey.

Well, that’s not entirely true. They did stare when Cyrus and Cutlass showed up. And a few times after. But Cutlass, the socially deft mare she was, had shouted a firm ‘everypony buck off back to what you were doing, didn’t daddy tell you it was rude to stare’ at every instance.

To Cyrus’ surprise, they actually did buck off back to what they were doing. Cutlass had explained that they were night guard and night guard gossip about him had been positive.

Well, actually night guard gossip revolved around how unbelievably weak and harmless he was. And how easy it would have been to subdue/kill him if he tried any shit.

All in all, Cutlass had firmly landed in Cyrus’ ‘cool ponies book’ at the top of the page.

He had been pretty nervous, having suffered somewhat of an anxiety attack before heading out. But Cutlass had managed to alleviate most of his fears with her brazen and bold attitude. Anxiety’s got one motherfucking strong grip.

Still, Cutlass did a great job. In Cyrus’ words, she was ‘chill as fuck’. This led to an incredibly intellectual discussion about how to properly cuss in Equestrian because Cyrus’ cuss game was some ‘dick shit’ (in Cutlass’ words).

Okay, dick shit equals pussy shit. Teats equals balls. Cuntlicker is cocksucker. Cyrus dutifully recites to himself, ensuring not to waste the wisdom imparted to him by Cutlass.

In return, Cyrus had introduced some Cockney rhyme slang to Cutlass. Classics such as ‘taking the mick’ (taking the Mickey Bliss, taking the piss) and ‘battle cruiser’ (boozer, pub). League slang was thrown in there too, ‘Turbo gapped’ (you suck) and ‘lobster low’ (you suck more) were now in Cutlass’ word arsenal. All in all, a successful and elegant exchange of culture.

However, it wasn’t the successful cementing of a new friendship that had Cyrus so giddy, although it was a contributing factor. No, it was something else.

Something that Cyrus had been itching to do since he got here.

The thing that gave Cyrus purpose in life.

Music! Glorious music! Cyrus would be able to play the piano again! For money?!?!

And it was all thanks to a certain golden eyed batmare……

“- so basically, right, we all hate Manche- Manechester City coz they buy all the good players.” Cyrus shouts over the busy bar atmosphere, sitting cross legged at their quaint and tucked away booth. Cutlass is hanging onto his every word like gospel, she intently nods.

“Yep, same here! My friend literally broke down when she read they won again. I think it was something like six in a row?” Cutlass responds, Cyrus groans and buries his head under his arms.

“Fuck’s saaaaaaaaaaake!”

Cutlass giggles at Cyrus’ flamboyant m reaction. Cyrus looks back up, the pout of all time adorning his face. They both break out into laughter. Cutlass reaches for her drink, Cyrus gets a devious idea.

“Weeeeeeee like to drink with Cutlasssssss,” Cyrus shout/sings as Cutlass’ glass reaches her lips. Cutlass quirks an eyebrow.

“Coz Cutlass is our maaaaate.” Cyrus’ grin grows wider as Cutlass’ confusion grows.

“When we drink with Cutlasssssss” Cyrus drags out the chant for as long as his breath is able. Cutlass’ eyebrow almost reaches the ceiling.

“She gets it down in eight!” Cyrus completes. Realization dawns on Cutlass’ eyes. She starts guzzling.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

The fizzy beer burns Cutlass’ throat as she chugs like her life depends on it. The rest of the bar, having figured out what was going on, joins in on the countdown.

“Four! Three! Two!”

Tears form in the corners of Cutlass’ eyes.

“Oneeeeeeeeee!” Cutlass slams the glass down in a nightly thump. She lets out a hacking cough as the bar lets out a mighty cheer. Cyrus doubles over in laughter, slapping the table with his recently bandaged palm. Cutlass staggers upward and gives a woozy yet dignified bow to the stomping of the rest of the bar. She points an accusatory hoof at Cyrus.

“Your turn next, cunthead!” Cutlass growls, Cyrus throws his hands up with a shit eating grin.

“Say less! But I gotta take a piss.” Cyrus responds as he shambles to his full height. Although the bar was designed for the pint sized ponies, the ceilings were tall. Cyrus speculated that it may have something to do with the size of Big White. Cutlass nods in response.

“Right! So you need to take a left at the second pillar then… down two flights… uhhhh. Buck it! Let me just show you” Cutlass sloshes at Cyrus, inebriation clear in her speech. Cyrus shrugs, following Cutlass through the sea of batponies. Down past the second pillar, up the elevated seating area, Cyrus chases Cutlass. She disappears round the corner. Cyrus leaps over a few chairs to catch up.

What he sees makes his breath hitch.

Ebony gloss, grand, strings open to the air. Clearly a spruce soundboard with oak finishings. It was as large as the ones on earth, a small, pony sized keyboard jutted out below a much larger one. In awe of the craftsman- craftsponyship Cyrus steps forward to get a closer look.

Emblazoned in gold: Hammersoft and co. The font: ITC Symbol Book. Same as Steinway and Sons. Cyrus almost orgasms.

Sitting on the music stand was an unassuming and muted blue book.

《Nocturnes and other notable pieces》

Sclizan

Sclizan? Nocturnes? Nocturnes. Who’s famous for- CHOPIN IS CHOPPING IS SCLIZAN IS SLICING! Cyrus dutifully abstracts in his mind, breaking out into a series of drunken giggles.

Cutlass, noticing the obvious lack of giant human, trots back to find Cyrus staring at the piano. Sidling up to his side, Cutlass nudges him with her wither.

“You play?” She asks. Cyrus spins around to look at her, his face adorned with prideful ornaments.

“Do I play!? Bloody hell, I play. I fuckin’ went to uni to learn how to play.” Cyrus declares, his ego flooding the room. Cutlass grins in response, the perfect revenge for Cyrus’ earlier antics appearing in her mind.

“Alright then, big dog. You go piss, I’ll grab you an audience!” Cutlass slyly responds, shoving Cyrus in the direction of the toilets. Spurred on by glee, Cyrus bounds inward, almost smashing his head on the doorframe. As he is doing his business, he can hear a very muted Cutlass shouting.

“Alright everypony, get your flanks over and shut your mouths. Gangly garat is about to give us a concert! Oi, Chilly, how do you work this thing? We probably need Minotaur mode…” Cutlass’ shouting trails off as she returned to a more appropriate volume. Cyrus gives his hands a quick and thorough wash because he isn’t a disgusting animal. He then does his classic pre performance routine, the routine that had earned him a distinction on his exam.

Three cold water slaps.

One loud ‘let’s do this’.

Another two cold water slaps.

Stepping out of the toilet, he is greeted by relative silence. The piano, small keyboard having been swapped for the large one, had been moved to the center of the raised seating area as a sort of a makeshift stage. Hushed chatter circled the room as Cyrus stepped up, his university practice taking over as he adjusted his piano stool to an appropriate height. Sitting down he flips through the music.

Hmmmm… should probably skip the nocturnes… too slow for this crowd. Hey I wonder if… Cyrus muses, flicking through the book, eyes scouring for the legendary opus 66. He finds it. His grin spreads.

Dignified and diligent, he sets the music on the stand. He allows a practiced dramatic silence to whet the audience's appetite. He begins.

The opening octaves echo through the room as a few eyes glint in recognition. With familiarity, Cyrus’ left hand launches into the fiery arpeggios, right hand joining soon after to deliver the melody. Tempering hours of practice, Cyrus adjusts his dynamics expertly, creating trepidation as he played. Cutlass, along with the bar, listen on in awe. The typhoon of Cyrus’ playing rages in the room.

Then, the dramatic transition! C sharp minor is no more!

Tenderness now flows from his fingers as the key changes to D flat major. Gently, Cyrus massages the piano, coaxing the notes to flow through the room. The bar patrons sway in response as the romantic sounds fill the room. Varying his tempo and dynamics, Cyrus swirls the music around the room as if he was dancing to it himself.

The slow and sweet melody draws to a close perhaps too soon. Quietly, like a creeping thundercloud, Cyrus brings the final section of the piece into fruition. The key changes back to C sharp minor as fire once again ignites his playing. Lightning strikes the earth as the storm rages from the piano. Possessed, Cyrus slams his hands on the keys, delivering fire, brimstone and despair.

Just when it seems like there is no end to howling winds and lightning, he transitions into the final part of the piece. Slowly, the sun peeks through the clouds, beaming onto the earth once more with its glow. Dutifully, Cyrus’ left hand plays the gentle melody from the romantic section, soothing the storm and parting the clouds with its beauty. Ritarding, he brings the piece to the close, final two chords ringing out like bells from on high. Cutlass is dumbstruck.

The bar erupts into stomping and whistling. Cyrus stands and delivers a bow as Cutlass bounds up toward him.

“That was incredible!” She exclaims, witherchecking Cyrus’ hip. Cyrus turns sheepish, rubbing the back of his head.

“Ah yeah. Thanks. I made a lot of fucking mistakes though.” Cyrus responded, self deprecating to mute his pride and remain modest. Cutlass quirks her eyebrow, seeing directly through Cyrus’ bullshit.

“Buck off! That was great and you know it.” Cutlass cheers, hitting Cyrus’ forearm with her hoof. It was about as far as she could reach.

“Haha, can’t fool you can I? Although I actually did make a lot of mistakes… some practice would do me good.” Cyrus responds, warring between sheepishness and pride. Cutlass’ eyes light up.

“I think can work something out!” She excitedly exclaims.

“Uhh, Cutlass! No worries, I don’t wanna force you to-“

“Shaddap,” Cutlass cuts Cyrus off before gesturing a wing to her eye, “Chilly and I are Galor Set. Golden eyes, we’re basically family. It’s no fur off my coat!” With that she trots over to the bar, motioning for Cyrus to stay where he was.

Cyrus’ eye traces Cutlass as she has an exchange with the much older looking barkeep. The barkeep darts her golden eyes to Cyrus and motions a hoof for him to come over. Obliging, he bumbles his way up, trying to keep his hope in check in the event of utter disappointment.

“Nice playing. Names Chilly. Heard you need a piano for practice?” The barkeep, Chilly, asks in a stereotypical gruff cadence. Cyrus nods his head enthusiastically. The barkeep clicks her tongue.

“Right, here’s the deal. You can practice between 1300 and 1700 hours. I don’t think nopony’ll be around. And you have to play sets for us. I like the classics but you’ll have to play jazz n’ whatever the gals want. Reckon you should brush up on some modern stuff too, Songbird’s real popular. You find the music, it’ll be in the caste library. I’ll pay ya. Sound good?” Chilly orders. Cyrus can not contain his smile.

“Say fuckin’ less!” Cyrus exclaims, sticking his fist out to bump Chilly’s hoof……

Cutlass, being the boss bitch she was, had hung out with Cyrus until near the very end. Unfortunately, after collapsing for the third time that evening, she realized that she needed to go to bed. She had been up since 6 PM the previous evening which was 24 hours ago. The pair negotiated more reasonable hours for the poor, tired batmare. Cyrus would be Cutlass’ charge starting the at the far more ‘normal’ times of 1 AM to 6 PM.

My corridor should be coming up soon… Cyrus thinks, nudging his mind away from his recent pleasant memories and onto the task at hand. Spotting the familiar stained glass window, Cyrus heads round the corner.

His Monster awaited.

You have a good time? It hisses at Cyrus, flashing Its rows of jagged yellow teeth. Cyrus scowls.

Yeah, I did. And I’m knackered right now so I’d appreciate-

Cyrus is cut off by the howling cackle of His Monster.

You’re alone now. And defenseless. Why wouldn’t we dance tonight? Come on, let’s do battle. It spits, motioning toward the door of his room.

Cyrus knows he has no choice.

It was time.

He enters, the attack is instant.

Is Cutlass genuinely being nice or does she just feel sorry for me?

What did it mean when that batpony flinched when I smiled.

Will I ever belong here?

Should I ever belong here?

On and on and on it goes. The battle ends only when restless sleep takes him.

.

.

.

.

A few days later…

Luna sat upright at her desk, quill clenched deftly in her magic. Her face was screwed in deep, intense contemplation.

If deep, intense contemplation meant looking for literally anything to do but the task she had laid out before her.

Following her sister’s advice, she had decided to sit down and craft a bit of an apology speech. Ordinarily, in proper Luna fashion, she would have marched straight to Cyrus and belted out whatever words came to her mind first.

Luna really wished she had just done that. Would have made it easier. It was hard not to feel like utter shit when writing out everything she had done and why. In the end, Luna knew that not taking the time to organize her thoughts would have ended in abject disaster.

Why is this so damned hard? Luna grouses inwardly. Her discipline slips and she allows her eyes to wander.

Luna glances at the bin. It was overflowing with discarded drafts, each one scrunched up in the most violent way Luna’s magic would allow. She lets out a massive groan.

These past few days she had been getting up earlier than usual to try and put her regret into words. The current apology read: Esteemed Cyrus of (find out from Tia/guards where he is from). We, the sovereign of night, would like to extend a formal apology to thee. The actions we took when thou first arrived were nothing short of-

Disgusted, Luna can’t read anymore, she crushes the parchment. Once more it is ejected toward the bin. She hits her target, but the bin is full so it bounces out and on the floor anyway. Luna lets out a frustrated groan.

Buck this infernal apology writing! Tis impossible. Luna inwardly moans as she haphazardly flicks her quill back into the inkwell. Slumping backwards, she glances at her liquor cabinet, squinting at her supply. She realizes that she’s out of strawberry and rhubarb gin. This makes her even more upset.

RAHHHHHH. Luna lets loose a primal mind-scream. If her enemies could hear it they’d turn tail and run for the hills. Probably shit themselves too.

Even so. Nopony to blame but my idiotic pride… Luna broods, sour mood souring her face. She looks for any form of distraction.

Lucky for her, she hears two sets of hooves clopping down the hallway at patrol speed. Luna’s ears activate high alert as she uses her trained hearing to pick out any abnormalities. Anything to distract from reliving the pain of her recent actions.

“-been talking to some nighties lately. Heard they got ol’ AA performing for them now down at the club.” The voice, which would have been incomprehensible if not for Luna’s abnormal hearing, says.

Gossiping in the halls! Loose lips shatter shields! Luna angrily thinks as she debates whether or not it would be prudent to step outside and give these two guards a bollocking.

“Yeah! Heard about that,” the other voice responds, “apparently he’s really good. Like freakishly good. Jav told me those flesh claws of his just dance on the piano, almost like magic.”

Flesh claws? Could it be… A musician? Luna muses to herself, unconsciously moving to her door to hear better.

“Haha, yeah. Bet you’d like to see what those things can do.” The original voice slyly responds, innuendo painfully obvious. The other voice lets out a harsh barking laugh. A clatter is heard. Luna’s expertise in armor deduces that it is most definitely hoofguard on witherguard contact.

“Yeesh, Silent, get ya head out the gutter. I just appreciate good art. I’d kill to sit in on a practice session. I heard he practices at the ol’ club between one and five, placid as hell,” The other voice responds before dropping her volume to a whisper, “makes you wonder what all the fuss was about.”

Those words make Luna cringe, hitting hitting too close to home. Having heard enough, she flicks her ears back to normal position, her mind currently at war trying to figure out what to do. Her eye catches the bin of insipid apologies. Fire lights within her.

Cowardly! I should not be sitting around composing frilly words. Sorry, sister, but I have pondered my words long enough! Luna resolves, stomping a hoof in tandem. Half curious and half determined to put her shame behind, she haphazardly throws her regalia on. She opens the door with a loud and dramatic bang, startling the two passing guards in the process.

“Guards. We shall be taking a trip to the officer’s club. Thou shalt alert our night guard command of my whereabouts.” Luna orders. The two guard bleat a startled ‘yes ma’am’ and salute. Once confirmed, Luna teleports in a brilliant flash of navy blue, not before reprimanding: “And thou shalt do well not to gossip in open air! Loose lips shatter shields!”

Finally realizing what Luna had just ordered them to do, the two guards exchange horrified looks. They were actually heading back to barracks for the end of their shift. Night guards wake up in an hour and forty five.

Ah well.

.

.

.

.

Luna flashes into existence in garden #3. Confidently, she makes her way from the garden to the T shaped intersection that ran parallel, striding forward like a lioness. She reaches the intersection, looking left, right, and forward down the halls. She frowns.

An unfortunate fact strikes Luna.

She knows that garden #3 leads to diplomatic chambers, grand hall #2, the officer’s club, and was host to a few well kept magnolias (sister’s favorite). Celestia was sure to point out the pretty pink and white flowers during the tour.

But Luna didn’t actually go to those places. So, unfortunately, she did not know where the officer’s club was located. Straight, left, and right could lead to any of the three aforementioned locations.

And she, in proper Luna fashion, had charged in headfirst. The embarrassment creeps from her mind to her cheeks.

She keeps her regal air for all of the (zero) ponies milling about. She was just stopping to admire the flowers. Yes, Luna had teleported from one side of the castle to the other to smell the lilies.

And what beautifully kept lilies they were! White, purple, red, orange, a true cacophony of color. Furthermore, they all looked delicious and ready-

What in tartarus am I doing?! Luna thinks, shaking her head to snap her out of her funk. Dejected, embarrassed, and feeling the creeping signs of oncoming sadness, Luna prepares a teleportation spell. Before the full logistics fall into place in her brain, her agile ears beheld something above the quiet of the late afternoon.

The faintest, most delicate melody, floating from her left and into the garden.

Letting her ears guide her, Luna steps toward the music. It is unlike anything she had ever heard before, cascading notes falling like rain yet a clear, guiding melody could be heard above the chaos. So Luna strode forward, music getting louder and more intense as she trotted down the hall in a trance-like state. Luna began to match pace with the music, moving faster as the piece built its climax. Soon the door came into view.

Luna slips in silently as the music slows, trickling scales leading back to the tenderness from before. One of her lieutenants, Cutlass Stellarbright she deduced, turns her head to greet the new arrival. Cutlass’ eyes widen, slits narrowing. Instantly Luna delivers a series of soft clicks, inaudible to all but those trained to hear: At ease.

Cutlass relaxes before clicking back: Princess. May I ask why you have graced us with your presence?

Cyrus plays on, completely engrossed in the tender ending movements of Liebestraum.

If thou would allow, I would like to be alone with our guest. Luna says with her clicks, ruffling her wings in a specific way to establish the correct tone. It is an order. Cutlass, having no choice, gently bows before hesitantly and noiselessly leaving the bar.

Luna brings her attention back to the closing section of the music, re-engrossed in the majesty pouring from the piano. Gentle chords echo in the room, dynamics tuned masterfully. Luna is struck by a scene……

A tender breeze on the field, her sister next to her admiring Luna’s moon.

How wrong could I possibly have been?

It had been a long campaign, but the sisters were reunited once more amongst the wildflowers near the Everfree.

Really, a creature of evil?

Luna had brought a new liquor back from the island she had discovered. Gin they called it. Celestia’s face puckered when she took her first sip. Luna bursts out into laughter. Snorting and harsh laughter. Her true laugh.

“What vile drink have thee brought from the isles?! Truly repulsive……”

For the first time in months, happy memories surfaced in Luna’s mind. The music draws to a close. Without skipping a beat, Cyrus descends upon the score with his pencil. He scribbles and scrawls between the pages, marking, circling and denoting, all the while muttering to himself. Luna is engrossed in his furious process.

“…Maybe a slight desync here would be better, who doesn’t like sloppy romanticism… no better to keep the integrity, it’s already romantic enough… still made too many mistakes here and here and… fucking Liszt hell man… hey Cutlass! What time is it?” The question is shouted out. Luna is shocked out of her trance. The lack of a response makes Cyrus turn his head.

“Hey, Cutlass, you-“ He freezes when his eyes land on Luna’s form. Luna steps forward. Leaping off the piano stool, Cyrus scrambles back as far as he can out of fear.

“W-what are you doing here?!” He demands through shaky breath, pointing his pencil at Luna like a knife.

“*ahem* Greetings-“

Luna can only get a word out before Cyrus hysterically shouts: “CUTLASS?! WHAT IS THIS? IS THIS SOME KIND OF SETUP?!”

Luna takes another step forward, trying her hardest to emulate her sister’s warmth. Cyrus flattens his back against the wall in response, fear and confusion obvious in his eyes. Luna opens her mouth, but regret robs her of words.

“J-just leave me alone. Please…” Cyrus pleads.

Luna is tempted. She looks to the floor.

Perhaps she should just leave. Perhaps it was for the best. She could live with it. Luna locks eyes with Cyrus once more. She is reminded.

No. Have courage. No more running.

Firmly, Luna plants her hooves.

“We- I am sorry.”

The words hang in the air.

“Thy treatment by us- me was entirely unfair. This shame I shall bear.”

Confusion wins out on Cyrus’ features.

“I am not a nice pony. That much is clear. I make others shrink in fear. I did not wish for them to be afraid of me anymore.”

Burning embarrassment swipes at Luna’s throat.

“I-I wanted thou to be evil. So I may rise as protector once more. That is the whole truth.” Luna finishes before shame conquers her courage. She shrinks behind her mane.

Cyrus is completely and utterly bewildered. Adrenaline still pumping in his veins, he stands up a little too quickly, causing him to stumble a bit. Luna looks up to the noise, expecting him to be marching over to deliver a massive slap to her face. Instead, Cyrus stands there, arms crossed as his breathing returns to normal.

“Right. So you wanted me to be some kind of monster demon so you could ‘slay’ me and be some kind of hero?” Cyrus demands, anger creeping into his voice.

“Yes.” Luna chokes out with incredible effort. Cyrus’ scowl deepens.

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? Right? Okay. So just because you’re delusional I have to wear bloody chains and…” Cyrus can’t finish, all of his anger rushing through made it difficult to pick out the words. He smashes his fist on the piano stool in frustration before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Outwardly, Luna takes the verbal battering like a champ. Inwardly, she was shivering with emotion. Shame, embarrassment, and regret swirl, crafting a bitter cocktail in her throat.

“You know, I have no idea why Cutlass defends you so much,” Cyrus spits, “she’s always saying that it’s ’not that simple’. Seems pretty simple to me.”

Luna’s dam breaks.

Maybe it was the mention of her loyal guard, defending her in spite of her obvious misgivings.

Maybe it was the way Cyrus had said those things, justifiably angry and spiteful. All because of her.

Maybe it was because Luna wasn’t quite as strong as she thought she was.

But, either way, she begins to cry. It stays small, almost unnoticeable until Cyrus takes a few angry steps closer.

“I d-do not expect forgiveness. I j-just wished to tell thee the truth. O-of my disgusting…” Luna gets out before breaking out into a sob. She can not bring herself to look anywhere but the floor. Cyrus pauses his temper, blinking at Luna’s display of sheer despair.

Man, she’s really… sad. Maybe she isn’t trying to torture me this time. Cyrus thinks.

Animal Cyrus wants to attack, the perfect opportunity was laid out before him after all. Kick her while she’s down. Make her pay. Make her bleed.

But human Cyrus somehow can’t.

Delusion… desperation. I know the feeling.

Slowly, empathy works its way through Cyrus, allowing him to see without anger tinted glasses. An old thought emerges.

A thousand years. Everyone she’s known. Gone.

She just wants to belong again. Like I did when I started uni, trading my low class accent for a posh one. Fuuuuuuuuuuck! Why does she have to be real?!

“SHIT ON IT!” Cyrus vents, striking the poor piano stool once more. Luna looks back at the commotion. She lets out a rallying grunt, picking herself back up.

“That is all. I shall leave you-“

Luna is cut off by Cyrus’ booming sigh.

“Just… look… uhhh…” Cyrus starts, unsure on how to order his thoughts, “just fucking, I dunno. Stop fucking crying. That shit is not fair.” Cyrus finishes, smacking the piano lightly. Luna’s face evolves into slight bewilderment.

“Look, I’m still mad. But… admitting that you’re wrong. Takes ball- uhhh teats. And I respect it.” Cyrus admits quasi-kindly, although mostly begrudgingly, his animal brain making its displeasure at letting a clean kill go known. Luna shuffles her wings nervously.

Shaking his head once more, Cyrus makes his way behind the bar. Once there he randomly picks out a liquor and two shot glasses. Deftly, he pours while pulling some change out of his pocket, stacking the golden coins next to the register. Luna recognizes the smell as the aromatics waft past her nose.

Strawberry and rhubarb!

Bill settled successfully. He motions for Luna to sit. She trepidatiously trots to her seat.

“Listen. What you did? Inexcusable. But you seem genuinely sorry. If this turns out to be some kinda trick I… will probably end up dead anyway so what do I have to lose?” Cyrus rambles, tanking both shots in succession but holding up a finger to indicate that he wasn’t finished speaking. Luna waits patiently.

“I might be willing to move past it. But that’s going to require some effort from you. So you need to answer some of my questions. This thousand year thing. What’s the deal?” Cyrus flatly proposes, fishing more change out of his ratty trousers and pouring two more shots. Both make their way in front of Luna.

She laughs dryly, devoid of humor. The shots disappear down her gullet. Buying time to organize her thoughts, she gives the glass a cleansing lick and clears her throat.

“A simple affair. I was jealous. My sister had the adoration of our nation. I was relegated to… being the bucking monster-creature. I confronted my sister and my other half got the better of me and I attacked her. Out of fear for her life she sealed me on the moon.” Luna flatly recites, leashing her emotions as much as she could. Cyrus gives her his best rock eyebrow raise.

“You attacked your sister? Like swords and…? bloody ‘ell… So what’s this about a other half?” Cyrus returns while sliding another shot to Luna. Another pile of coins finds its way on the register.

“Yes to thy first and second questions. The answer to the third is… complicated. The citizens call it ‘Nightmare Moon’. The truth is a crown secret. As much as I wish to earn thy trust, I can not disclose that information.”

Luna fired another shot down the hatch.

“Huh. Shit.”

They stare at each other for a bit, contemplating their next move. Eventually, the alcohol reaches Luna’s brain, unhindered due to her empty stomach. Her bottled emotions finally blast the cap away. Luna lets out a frustrated sigh before launching into an impromptu speech: “I am just… so… grahh! I frustrate myself. I am so-“

“Lost?” Cyrus cuts in. Luna feverishly nods.

“Yes! Lost. I… spend all my time reaching…” Luna’s rational brain stops herself from ranting further as a blush creeps onto her muzzle. Cyrus is trying not to laugh. She clears her throat loudly.

“Apologies,” Luna offers, looking away and retreating behind her mane, “Can we please change the subject?”

Cyrus chuckles in response, flicking his hand to give his blessing. Another shot finds its way in front of her and another pile of coins on the register.

“Um. Thou playing is… wondrous. May… I ask… uhhh…” Luna trials off, having no idea where she was going with that one. The awkwardness makes Cyrus bark out a guffaw.

Nah who the fuck is this and what did she do to crazy Big Blue Bitch. Cyrus pondered as Luna stared at the bartop in utter defeat. Cyrus let her stew for a bit before mercy got the better of him.

“Thank you. I do practice a lot. At least these past few days I have. The piece was Liebestraum if you’re interested.” Cyrus says, saving Luna from herself.

“Ah, thou diligence has paid off. Is Liebestraum a tune native to thy land?” Luna asks, rapidly grabbing onto the conversational life raft Cyrus had thrown to her.

“Eh. Yes and no. Lots of weird parallel coincidences here. You have Sclizan who is Chopin from my world. Liebestraum exists where I’m from but was composed by a guy called Franz Liszt. Sorry to disappoint, it’s not totally alien.” Cyrus responds. Luna hangs onto every word, intrigued.

“Ah! Interesting… we are so different yet somehow music has connected us… And, no, I am not disappointed that the tune was not from thy home. It is still new to me.” Luna muses, a slight excitement entering her tone at the discovery of new art. Cyrus cocks his head.

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird, isn’t it? Although there is one problem. You lot don’t have Beethoven. Really starting to piss me off that is.” Cyrus lets a bit of frustration enter his last statement. It really did bug him.

“Intriguing! Not completely parallel then… was this ‘Beethoven’ an important figure?” Luna asks, trepidation washed away by the power of alcohol. Cyrus gives Luna fish eyed look at her question, preparing his dramatics.

“Important figure?! Beethoven was one of the greatest of all time! With just two chords in his third symphony he ushered in a whole new era of music.” Cyrus serenades, allowing his passion to get the better of him as he delivers his speech, swooning and swaying as if Beethoven was his lover. Luna, swept up by his fervor, lets out a snorting laugh. Her hoof instantly snaps to her mouth as bright red embarrassment flashes on her cheeks.

The pair stare at each other for a moment. Then, unison.

“BAHAHAHAHAHA- *snort* AHAHAHAHA.”

They share a raucous round of laughter, no doubt spurred on by alcohol. Cyrus is the first to recover, tossing his hands in the air and saying: “Listen, it’s *aha* okay, laugh your *heh* laugh sister.”

Luna’s chuckles subside. Abashed once more, she adjusts her mane with her hoof. The corner of her eye catches the clock on the wall.

5:35.

“Shit!” Luna exclaims, startling Cyrus a bit, “I have lost track of time. I am to meet my sister for breakfast and moon raising in five minutes!”

Cyrus throws his hands up.

“Alright. Uhhh… good talk?” Cyrus stutters as Luna flashes straight to the closest available reflective surface. Luna shoots Cyrus an apologetic look as she scrambles to make herself look presentable.

“I thank thee *spit* for allowing me to speak- MY INFERNAL MANE! -with thee after my… abject stupidity. I very much enjoyed the music and company. May I ask thee if it would be acceptable if I may listen in on thy practice?” Luna hurriedly asks, no time to feel shy or embarrassed at her request. She does one last preen before taking a few steps back. Her horn charges.

“Uhh… sure? I’m here one till five.” Cyrus kind of mumbles, a little flabbergasted. Luna cracks out a big smile. It reminds Cyrus of Cutlass’ friendly smile.

“Joyous occasion! Excellent! I thank thee again!” With that, Luna disappears with a bang and a flash, leaving Cyrus to simply stare at empty space.

Uhhhhh… wat.

Author's Note

Halor. You can probably see why I've split this chapter into two. Would have totaled ~17k and my ass is not SilentKnight (go check them out).

Took a gander at describing music. Hope it wasn't too cringe .

As always please lmk how I'm doing. Feedback always appreciated.