The Butterfly And The Moth

[Supremacy 3361]

Upon a pedestal within the inn of Haelun'or sits a grizzled tome. It is not dusty nor old but rather seems to have been fashioned in this way for some reason or another. Perhaps to impart that what is contained within is a tale as old as the book appears to be itself. None the less, to he or she who would approach the book, it would read thusly:

 

 

Long ago in the forests of Fiandria, beyond the third pebble of the river and behind the fifteenth bush lay a small clearing filled with flowers of the most wondrous kind. As is often the case with clearings of flowers, all kinds of butterflies came to live here— Their radiant wings making this flowered paradise even more of a beautiful sight to behold one's eyes on.

 

With every passing generation, the butterflies became more beautiful and from their chrysalises they rose and took to the sky. But, for every budding butterfly to be, this was not to be the case. Here we begin with the tale of a caterpillar, who shall remain nameless, for now.

 

This caterpillar was somewhat of a late-bloomer and as all his other caterpillar friends became their radiant selves, this one remained stunted. So jealous was he that by night he plotted to simply slice his cousin's wings from him and take them for himself— An illogical notion but one which made sense to the wicked caterpillar none the less.

 

But alas, this was not to be for his methods were neither subtle nor shrewd and he was thrown from the colony for his wicked plot. But his uncle, who pitied the elf and understood that it was not the Wicked One's fault for having no wings, permitted his uncle the chance to take his wings, should this be the will of the colony as a whole. This was not their will.

 

Thus after he was cast out to forever live in misery, at least until he would one day repent for his actions. For most, this story would end here— For it would only be reasonable for after a time for the wicked caterpillar to repent and be accepted once more in the Blessed Society of the butterflies. But the Wicked One would not take this.

 

Instead he chose to bide his time until he became a pupae. He waited so that he would be as radiant if not more than his cousin so that he might make him jealous. But, lliran, it is simply a fact that wickedness corrupts.

 

So vile was he that his very growth within his chrysalis was corrupted. He immersed not as a butterfly but as a winged beast of the shadows— He became a Wretched Moth. Infuriated he took to the skies and began to loom amongst the bushes about the flower opening, attempting to strike at the butterflies and tear them to shreds as revenge for the misery he believed they caused him.

 

But alas, the butterflies were wise and spread rumours to the birds who sat in the trees, watching and waiting for an easy meal.

 

The Wicked Moth was torn to shreds. The Butterflies simply watched.

 

Some of you may read these words feeling them anticlimactic. Some of you may feel the downfall of the Moth was too straightforwards, to simple, for it to be an engaging tale. But this, lliran, is simply the truth of the matter. The Moth shall always plot and lament his failings and The butterfly shall always triumph.

 

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Elorna reads over the story, brow raising by increments as she gets further along. When finished, she decides to write down her commentary to it and leave it on the pedestal, because it would seem that is what people generally do in response to literature these days.

 

"This is not how animals function. Moths are not inherently more ugly or evil than butterflies. The author should be mindful about using nature and its creatures as a metaphor when it is clear he or she does not understand such concepts. Perhaps it would be more prudent to use symbols that the author is more familiar with and would encounter in their own everyday environment, such as books, brick walls, or cutlery."

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.