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She probably won’t like it. Scratch that, she probably has the real thing in her room, parts all labeled and that, and normally I’d argue that having a tiny model of your interests can also be an enjoyable thing, but we’re talking about Miss Plinius, Annie!
Annie plays with the small toy on her table, poking it and laughing quietly at how ridiculously cute it looked. She’d wanted to add wings, actually, though finding the appropriate materials for those would be too difficult, even if she wasn’t inside the manor, leaving her with this tiny… thing. Not quite a caterpillar, not quite a butterfly.
Someone knocks on her door, startling Annie. She fumbles a bit with the toy in an attempt to stuff it into her pocket, praying that it doesn’t poke its tiny head out. Besides, anyone sharp-eyed enough would know that there were only two of them who’d ever keep a toy like that—one being her, the toy merchant herself, and the other being Melly Plinius.
“Though everyone would probably think of it as a scientific model of sorts if it were in her hands.” Annie mumbles, turning her head to look at who was at her door.
Speak of the devil. There she was, Melly Plinius herself, currently standing by the doorway. Ah, Annie eloquently thinks.
“I didn’t come at a bad time, did I, Miss Lester?” Melly asks. “Your door was left open. Pardon my intrusion.”
“Huh. I did? I was in a hurry earlier,” for the toy, but that can remain unspoken of, “so I guess I didn’t notice.” Annie says, standing up from her chair and walking towards Melly, who lets out a small sigh of relief. “And I told you to call me Annie. It’s perfectly fine.”
“Then, perhaps you should also start calling me by my name, then?” Melly laughs as they walk out of her room. Here we go again, Annie thinks, swearing that she’d have to fistfight the flush in her cheeks herself if it doesn’t disappear in the next five seconds. Melly Plinius and the discreet way she would… flirt? Could you even call this flirting? She lowers her head, locking the door on their way out with her key.
“This is this, that is that,” Annie tries to banter. Melly laughs again, and Annie is buzzing.
Annie remembers it well, the day they’d… grown closer, she’d like to think, how Melly had shown her the nest of insects located at one of the trees in the back garden after a game gone well. There wasn’t much she could contribute to Melly’s monologue, what with her limited knowledge of insects and all, but it didn’t really stop her from making a comment about whether these insects also made honey. Obviously, they didn’t, what the hell, she’d thought at the time, but she had to pour in some talking effort! Melly only looked at her and grinned, the same grin she’d started showing her days and weeks and months (three months, Annie internally screams, three months!) after that encounter.
(It took Emma complaining about a hive of honey bees in the back garden for Annie to realize that the answer to her question was yes.)
The familiar path to the back garden—a place Annie would consider as their go-to spot now—fills her with this sense of ease, yet there was also the thrill of seeing Melly and the way she’d let herself loose now that they were alone. Annie lets the chill of the air hit her face, the cold of her key digging itself into her palm. She looked at Melly, who’d taken off her mask and started fixing her hair as they stepped outside.
“Did you find anything new?” Annie asks, crouching down and gently blowing on one of the flowers by the entrance. “I think I saw some butterflies earlier when I walked by the doorway.”
“Come here.” Melly gestures at her, and Annie looks back and sees her kneeling on the ground as she takes a small jar out of the box she had put down earlier. “I think you’ll like this.”
Annie leans forward to look at the inside of the jar, hands on her knees as Melly raises the jar up. Like this, the traitorous part of Annie thinks, I could get pushed by the wind, and I might just end up…
“What is that?” Annie almost yelps, stepping back in an attempt to put distance. Looking at Melly’s face, who was grinning so brightly at her, so familiar and exciting, she managed to simmer down the hurried rhythm of her heartbeat. Where did this even come from, Annie internally cries. “It’s so pink.”
“Come back here. She misses you already.” Melly teases her, and Annie reluctantly walks back, though she makes the careful choice of kneeling next to Melly instead of crouching down in front of her as she did earlier. “Dryocampa rubicunda. Rosy maple moths. Their bright colors put off their predators.”
“Do they eat from maple trees or something?” Annie asks, turning to look at Melly, who was busy gazing at the moth that was flapping its wings inside the jar. How pretty, Annie thinks, pushing back the smile forming on her face.
“Almost there. They lay their eggs on maple trees. On maple leaves, to be exact.”
Annie lets out a hum, staring at the creature up close. She puts her key back into her pocket, the chilly air making her hands tremble. Melly, who had always kept her gloves on, huffs out a laugh and takes her hand into hers. “Now, why didn’t you bring gloves?”
“I didn’t think it’d be this cold.” Annie retorts, and she looks back at the moth inside the jar. “Will you be setting it free in this weather?”
“Not now, but soon.” Melly uses her free hand to put the jar back into the box. “Tomorrow’s temperature might be milder. This little fellow might find a good spot for herself outside the garden.”
“I hope she does,” Annie tells her, eyes fixed on the vibrant colors of the moth. She was about to take a closer look when she feels something too small and too soft to just be any other normal garden rock touching her right knee.
In a burst of panic, Annie yelps, again, pulling herself and Melly away, almost stumbling together to the ground as she hopes that whatever that thing was hadn’t bitten her or anything. Melly looks at her in surprise, one of her hands supporting her from the back as she tries to balance Annie, who’s torn between running and staying. Who wouldn’t? You kneel in the middle of a garden full of furry moths and who knows what else and tell me how it feels, Annie internally tries to justify herself. Or maybe I could’ve gone with not pulling Miss Plinius along too.
“What’s wrong? Did something…?” Melly trails off as she spots the small object lying on the grassy ground. Oh no, Annie thinks, should’ve kept that in the drawer, but Melly had already gone ahead and picked up the object—specifically, the toy that she’d made earlier—that caused Annie a great deal of fright and flight.
“I must say, this is… cuter, really, than it is scary.” Melly starts to laugh as she observes the toy up close. Annie covers her face with her free hand, though their hands are still very much entwined. “Excellent work as always, Annie.”
Annie looks up, bewildered at Melly’s use of her name, until she added, “This looks a lot like the rosy maple moths. Well, their mapleworm versions, actually. The color is just a little off, but it works.” Melly turns to look at her. “Is this… for me?”
“I didn’t have wings, okay?” Annie grumbles, peering out between her fingers and scooting closer to push the toy back into Melly’s hand. Might as well admit defeat, comrade. “And it’s for you. Just for you.”
“Something just for me?” Melly smiles, and Annie can only let the flush consume her face whole, cold air and soft glove all around.
You’re hopeless, Annie thinks, but you’re not the only one, maybe, she adds, the tint of scarlet on Melly’s face an exact mirror of hers.
“Yeah,” Annie breathes out, squeezing Melly’s hand in hers. “Something just for you.”
