1. for a creature made of stars, and loss, and sorrow, time is meaningless. you have been fed memories, and melodies for somewhere between a moment and a millennia. you do not know how your fondness began, only that it eases, somewhat, the grief that sits inside you. you do not know his face; you hear his voice, soft & somber, and his songs, subtle & surreal. you hear his heartbeat moving around you. the staccato beat of his footfalls hems in your life. he calls you a sound that has no meaning, but which becomes your name. the soft hum and wordless song he makes while he dreams up new arias lulls you in and out of consciousness. you wonder, occasionally, what he would think if you sang back; but something holds you back, and so you remain silent. people move in and out of your hearing, but they do not hold your attention. for many of them, they soon do not hold anyone's.

2. you hear his sorrow grow slowly, listen to him turn a fact he cannot escape over and over in his mind. you begin to understand the depth of meaning you hold for these people. you are the midwife to their awakening, and you are the method by which their life is forever extinguished. his terror of being forgotten hangs like a choking cloud around the both of you, strangling him with its inevitability. you are the silent arbiter of the Bureau's greatest sacrifice, and he is your keeper. every name that passes into your tank drives him further into despair, and you do not know how to help him; an impassable void lays between you.

3. and then, suddenly, a voice you recognize is there. he is not like your bard, your keeper; his voice brings to light the unquenchable grief that has lain within you. it takes you uncountable moment-months to call out to your former friend, a fractured refrain of pleading sorrow that your bard echoes perfectly. you think, perhaps, he understands better than anyone else what you are feeling. you wonder if he knows you feel at all. the moment passes, and in despair, you blare out one final note. it seems, afterward, that they do not recognize the longing within you, that they do not know what has been taken. it seems that your bard believes you have rebuked him, given him one more push into the brink of unfathomable despair. you do not know how to reassure him, and grow silent once more.

4. the monster that creeps ever towards all of you arrives, glorious in its horror. it strikes down your bard, and the unbearable sorrow that dwells within you swells, a tidal wave of indescribable pain. but his songs live inside you, every line, every note, every pitch, and you sing your heart out for him. music that has no equal in all of history tumbles out of you, searing the hearts of any who can hear. he cared for you, cared about you, and now he is gone. and so you repay his kindness and dedication at long last; this is your gift. he will never be forgotten. his voice will lay among the stars.