//------------------------------// // Bonus #2: Angst Preceded by Makeouts [Romance][Sad] // Story: Thirty Days, Thirty Twilights // by Esle Ynopemos //------------------------------// This. This was what Twilight Sparkle needed. She needed that soft orange coat brushing tenderly against hers. She needed to feel the warm pulse in those strong, steady hooves as they traced a line from Twilight's withers up her neck to behind her ears. She needed to feel the tickle of that straw-colored mane against her muzzle. She needed to hear the soft breaths and muted whinnies as orange lips planted a trail of gentle kisses from one side of her jaw across her throat to the other. Celestia, even the sweet scent of apples and hay on her breath! Twilight's nostrils flared as she inhaled. Perfect. Every last detail of her was absolutely perfect. Twilight gasped and lost herself in the sweet cascade of kisses. As Twilight began to reciprocate, a soft murmur rose from the warm orange chest she was curled into. “Mmh. I love you, Twi.” Twilight's ear flicked. “No... don't say that.” The other pony shifted. Her brows drew together. “Somethin' wrong, sugar?” “Stop.” Twilight pushed herself away. “Just stop. You're doing it wrong.” The orange pony gave an exasperated sigh. With a flash of green flame, she no longer looked like Applejack. The room's candles glittered in the changeling's compound eyes. “I'm working off of your memories, Princess. I was exactly how you remember her.” “She wouldn't say those things,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “Not like that.” The changeling's mandibles pouted. “She did say those things, exactly like that.” “The timbre was off,” insisted Twilight. “Her voice had a little more breath behind it.” The changeling huffed. “Begging your pardon, Princess, but have you any idea how difficult it is to do this as a pony that has been gone for hundreds of years? I have spent years doing research, listening to recordings, practicing my voice-work and getting the face just right. I would appreciate it if I was given enough credit to say I wouldn't have come here tonight unless I was positive that every last note was precisely how your friend would have spoken to you.” “Yes, but you're not her!” Twilight's chamber fell silent, the echo of her outburst dying in the still air. One of the candles by the wall sputtered and went out. Twilight's wings sagged. “This... this was a mistake. I shouldn't have asked you for this.” Her horn glowed and the door swung open. The changeling's expression softened. “Princess... I—I'm sorry. I get that they meant a lot to you. Please understand that I'm not trying to disrespect that in any way. But you...” Her gossamer wings fidgeted. “You mean a lot to me, Princess. You brought peace to the hives. Because of you, I can walk out among the streets, undisguised, with nothing to fear. If... if you want me to go, I will. But if this is my opportunity to repay the smallest fraction of what you have done for me and my kind, I ask that you give me the chance to try.” Twilight stared into the changeling's eyes. It felt wrong, using her to see old, familiar faces again. Wrong to be playing this game of pretend instead of letting go and moving on with her life. But, she admitted as the first tears broke the rims of her eyes and spilled over her cheeks, she needed it. A lump in her throat prevented her from making a verbal response, so she simply nodded. Green flames lit the chamber. A white hoof reached out and stroked her mane. “Very good, darling,” cooed a gentle, cultured voice, smooth as silk. “Let us try this again, shall we?”