Mitzi Klied, a woman who he had yet to meet or speak with, was in the general ballpark in her supposition over what was happening on the front porch of the residence that he and his family were living in. While he was trying to establish himself with his family, he wasn't play-fighting or fooling around with Lazeer. He wasn't grabbing his son, who tripped then started to fall after leaving the house too fast, either. Her thought of his grabbing Lazeer to tell him that all of the groceries were collected was in the general area of what happened on the porch, but even that was incorrect.

Lazeer, his youngest-born son, who was also born prematurely at five and a half months gestation, had just gotten over a nasty bout with the flu. Due to his system still being in that stressed-out zone, he thought that he didn't need to be outside. Instead of going out, putting his system at risk of getting sick again, he should stay inside; where he could continue to rest and recuperate from his illness. Lazeer, of course, had thought otherwise. A minor fight occurred between the two of them on the matter of the groceries needing to be brought in before he put his foot down; he told his son to go inside and to stay inside, which he reluctantly did.

Lazeer wasn't the only one that he had a to-do with over the taking in of the groceries. While he was sure that Hazaar was well over the cold that he experienced between April 18 and 21, his son was still limping quite heavily on his left side. Despite the limp, his son wanted to go out and help with the groceries. A fight between he and his secondborn was done after he came in with the three bags that he collected from his wife's vehicle. After placing the bags down, he grabbed his son by his shirt sleeve; as he saw it, Hazaar shouldn't be lifting anything heavy or moving about so freely. He should take it easy until his injured hip was better healed. Hazaar, of course, hadn't seen it that way. His son had seen his attempt to keep him from re-injuring himself as a form of bullying. Even though Angel was called in on that fight, she stood by his side about their son staying inside and not doing anything overly strenuous. Hazaar was told to go to the kitchen and then start the process of emptying the bags of their food; unlike he, who got a lot of lip, Hazaar gave his mother no problems in doing what she told him to.

Shortly after telling Hazaar to empty the bags of their food, Angel told Lazeer to do the same thing. While his two, younger sons were working on de-bagging the groceries, he, Angel, Eshal, Bile, and Lhaklar brought everything that was in the Porsche inside. After the food was in, he and Eshal stood back. Angel and the boys were the ones who put the food away—even though he and his daughter were new to the house, and didn't know where anything went, they didn't shove off or go to some other part of the house. They stood idly by, watching their family put everything away, and collecting data on where everything needed to go. After the food was put away, and the bags were stored for other uses, his sons dispersed in different directions. Eshal went upstairs, to, presumably, her room, while he stayed in the kitchen with his wife. Over the last two weeks, he had taken note of when she went to work and then returned to the house.

Angel left the house at close to nine in the morning then came home at around three in the afternoon. While it was close to being that hour, it wasn't time for his wife to clock out from her job. On average, she returned to the house ten to fifteen minutes after clocking out. He was curious over why she was so early in coming home... and when she found the time to grocery shop when she was supposedly working. He approached his wife coolly then placed his hand on her arm; Angel, who was busily looking through her purse, stopped doing what she was to look at him.

"Yes?" she said, with a smile.

"Bit early for your homecoming," he said. "Not even three yet, here you are."

"Mr. Blue-Butt seems to know my hours well," his wife said. "I clocked out thirty minutes ago. Decided to do the shopping now instead of later."

"That a normal thing you do or..."

"Tazzy, come on now." Angel sighed. She tossed her purse at him then went to the fridge. One of the packs of hamburger were removed; after placing it on the counter, she went to one of the cabinets then removed a can of tomato sauce, then a box of spaghetti noodles. "You make it sound like my clocking-out early is a crime."

"Didn't mean to make it sound like that. Was just curious, is all." he said. The thought of searching through her purse crossed his mind for a second before he cast it to the side. He placed the bag, one of them silver mesh-types, that seemed to not be as heavy as a usual woman's purse was, on the counter then went to her. "I apologize if I offended or made you upset, Angel. I'm new here and learning, slowly."

"Came a fraction of an inch of doing both but, luckily, since I know that you're both of them things, you're safe." Angel replied.

"How was work for you today?" he asked.

"Bit slow, but okay. In the next two to three days, after the paychecks and monthly government assistance payments are cashed, it'll be faster." Angel answered.

"You've got co-workers, right?" he asked. "Or are you the only one that works the area where you're stationed at?"

"Have fourteen others working the building at the same time that I do." Angel replied.

He sustained the sigh that wanted to come out. His wife had no idea how much weight was lifted from his shoulders; it was good to hear that she wasn't being taken advantage of and that she had people working incognito with her during the periods where she was in her workplace.

While he had learned a few things over the last two weeks, he hadn't seen his wife's place of work. He hadn't asked any questions on where she worked at or on the people that she worked around either. All he knew was that she woke up at around a quarter to eight, had breakfast ready after doing her morning routine, then left for work after eating. While he was annoyed with her having to be away for eight-hour periods for six days out of the week, he was okay with it—instead of going off to do some unknown task, she was both in a public establishment and making money to keep her family's heads above water.

"With me, and Eshal, being so new to the house, and with our still settling in and getting reacquainted with the members of our family, we haven't had time to think much less do any heavy-duty questioning anyways." he thought before the history that he had with the house ran itself through his processor.

After tracking Hazaar to the location, then hearing that his wife wasn't going to allow anyone in her family to pack up and then leave, he decided to stick around for a while. The agreement, drawn up between he and his wife, called for him and his family to reside in the house, and on the planet, for the next six months. On the night of April 17, instead of booking a hotel or going home for the night then coming back during the morning hours, he and his daughter slept in the living room. On either the loveseat or couch. On the following night... well, he couldn't so much as say that he moved his sleeping quarters upstairs. On the morning of the eighteenth, he asked for the house's blueprints; after receiving, and then looking them over, he went outside. A spell was done to make two extra rooms in the house, then another spell was done to widen the house—so it wouldn't look disproportioned or become unstable. Eshal was moved into one of the new rooms right after he came back from a quick trip home; all of the things that were in the chamber of his ship, that his daughter slept and lived in for the six months that they were initially staying here, were collected and then moved to the room that she picked to be hers.

The other room was bare for all of two days before he made the decision to go to a retail store that was on one of the planets of the nearby galaxy. It had just the basics in it—a bed, a bedside table, and a dresser.

Even after making them two rooms, then equipping them with furniture, then stabilizing the house, he hadn't slept or even moved his sleeping arrangements upstairs. While Eshal slept upstairs for the last fourteen days, he was still sleeping on the living room couch. He wasn't asked or requested to sleep in the living room; he was the one to make the decision to stay in the room during the periods where his family were retired for the night. That way, the boys would have some time to get use to him and not be but so nervous of him. With the exception of one of the boys, all of his sons had grown accustomed to him being both in the house and around them.

He had a plan in motion for that night that revolved around his sleeping arrangements. If things went well at supper, he'd be moving upstairs. To the room that Angel slept in.

"And I'm sure looking forward to that! Sleep upstairs, in the same bed that she does... have her soothing presence by my side... No more wet dreams being experienced, or me having to do the spell to dry the couch after waking up." he thought after his plan ran through his head.

His wife had insisted on the boys continuing with their lives as if nothing had changed in the house after it was fixed to accommodate him and Eshal. He had a feeling that things had ceased happening because of him and his daughter. With the exception of his wife, daily routines had changed. His sons, for the first week of his and his daughter's residency in the house, had either stayed upstairs, in their rooms, or had gone down to the basement. It took all of a week before a return to his sons' daily routines was noted; Lazeer, who was still battling his flu, but who was well enough to walk around without staggering or stumbling, had played a video game in the living room with Hazaar on the twenty-fourth. He and Eshal had watched the two play the game but they hadn't lingered or spoken during the activity. Two days later, Lhaklar broke the bubble by asking his sister if she wanted to play one of the available games that were compatible with the same system. Eshal had said yes; they had played a game called Super Mario Bros. for all of thirty minutes before going their separate ways. Most of the boys were slowly opening up and settling back to how they were before he and Eshal moved in; along with being happy in seeing this happening, he was happy to see that it was happening slowly instead of quickly.

He wasn't stupid by any means; he knew that, even though he and Eshal were related to the boys, they were, essentially, strangers to them.

"What'd you do today?" his wife asked him.

"The usual," he replied before checking or preventing himself from speaking.

"Just sit on the couch, and watch tv, or—" his wife started to ask; when he nodded his head, she went quiet. She said nothing for all of two minutes before sighing, then going towards her purse. "You're living here, Tazir. You have a right of doing things while being here. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I'm aware of that." he replied. "Technically, I didn't just sit and watch tv, or sit in the dining room, while you was away. Hazaar brought this small, handheld thing to me at around ten-thirty. Since I didn't know how to work the thing, I just sat and watched him use it."

"Looks like a handheld controller, with a flip-up screen? Black in color?" Angel asked.

"Yes,"

"The Nvidia Shield. Bile found that at the dump last year, in September." Angel said. He made an automatic face after hearing that one of his sons had brought something from a dump home, and that another of his sons was playing with it; Angel saw his expression then laughed. "It's a little hobby of theirs. They scavenge things from the dump that they either think someone in the house will like, or that they like, or that they think they can sell."

"And you let them?" he asked, incredulously.

"Course, they're not doing anything wrong." Angel replied. "Before you ask, I do have one rule with this hobby of theirs. Anything that they bring back has to be cleaned and thoroughly; I don't want anything sticky or smelly sitting around the house."

"You know how much bacteria lies around in dumps, Angel? They could get sick from handling anything that's in them places!"

"Yes. I'm aware that dumps aren't the cleanest places in the world. They clean themselves up after they come home; no infections, or illnesses, have happened after they've done their trips to the area's dumps."

"Angel—"

"The purse that I gave you a few minutes ago was one of the finds that Bile also came by in one of the area's dumps."

He clamped his mouth shut after learning that the purse, that he held, and contemplated looking through before deciding to not do so, was found in a dump. His wife smiled at him, then took her purse, then left the room. He stood by the counter for a few seconds before following her; while she went upstairs to change out of the pair of black pants and the black, long sleeve blouse that she wore each day when she went to work, he went to the living room.

He still thought that the room, that he was entering, was appropriately sized for a residence of the size that he and his family were in. A window looked in on the dining room; a red velvet loveseat, that had two textured, red throw pillows on it, was under it. To the right of the loveseat was a round pedestal table; it had nothing on its surface. A bamboo and rattan floor lamp was to the left of the loveseat. In the center of the room sat a gas-powered fireplace, which had framed photographs on its front. A 39" big screen tv was mounted over the fireplace. Flower portraits and more framed photographs decorated the room's walls. To his left stood another round, pedestal table; this one had a 25-inch tall, espresso-brown traditional lamp on its surface.

The red, microfiber sectional couch, that was beside the table that had the lamp on it, had two red, microsuede, square-shaped pillows on it. The coffee table, that stood before the couch, was one of them rustic types. At the moment, only a tv remote was on its surface.

The ceiling was one of them vaulted types. It was white-painted, and had a popcorn design to it.

Since he had nothing to do, and since everyone was on the second level, he sat on the couch then looked at the tv. The reason to why Angel refused to leave the planet was remembered right after he did so.

"While she disclosed her desire in not wanting to leave before my grandfather stormed out of the place, she explained it some hours after both he and my father and his wife were on their way home." he thought.

Angel, who had five sons to worry about, was basing her decision on the child that she adopted in January of last year. She claimed concern over this child succumbing to space-travel sickness and stress, and she also claimed a concern over he and Eshal not getting along with him. While he could of called balls on that—while the boy might of gotten sick, and might of gotten stressed over the move, he would of gotten over it and there was no question on whether or not he or Eshal would get along with him—he had made the decision to go with his wife's game. He decided to let the child in question grow more accustomed to him and Eshal before the move to Moas, the planet where his residence was on, and where he and Eshal lived on, and where most of his children were born on, was made.

After this reminiscing was complete, he watched the program that was being aired on the tv. This odd program, that he'd usually not bother with, was watched for all of a few minutes before he realized that he still had the mail on his person. He reached into his tuxedo jacket, then took the mail that was in its inside pocket out, then placed it on the coffee table. He had no more done that before his and his wife's first child walked into the room.

"Lhaklar," he said.

"Dad," his firstborn son returned.

"Is it me or are them arms of yours getting bigger?" he asked.

Over the last few weeks, he had found himself as being amazed at how well composed his firstborn son was. The oldest of his biological sons, who was given the name of LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit, but who went by plain Lhaklar by, he presumed, everyone that he came in contact with, had very good control of himself. He seemed to be the more mature and responsible of his brothers. Over the weeks that he was in the house, he had also learned that his son had them moments where he overdid them good qualities. Lhaklar sometimes took it upon himself to act like the Big Man of the house—they had "crossed paths" on that issue a few times over the last few weeks; either his son backed down at the last minute or Angel came in to tell him to quit it on the times where he didn't.

His firstborn son, who had recently advanced a year to become a two thousand, one hundred, and two year old, looked almost like himself. Along with being six foot, one in height, he had mint-green skin. His head was shaped like an upside-down teardrop; the eyes, that were in it, were large, oval in shape, and pistachio in color. Even though they were that color, there was no mistaking the shiny, silverish undertone that they had to them. A pair of holes where a nose would normally be were under his eyes; an O-shaped mouth was under them. Like all of his biological children, he had suction cups on the ends of each of his fingers; his skin complexion, and pistachio-colored eyes, had come from his mother instead of from him. His son had a very nice, athletically built body; the muscle, that he had on him, was quite firm. While he was very healthy, he still worried about him. His son had sustained an injury to the right side of his head last year, on the secondth of October. The scabbed over gash, that was on the side of his head, didn't look good; he was keeping an eye on it, just in case it got infected. The head-wound wasn't the only injury on him; his left arm was both broken and in a splint. His son's arm was broken last year, in December. Sadly, he was the cause of both of them injuries.

His son was wearing a dark green muscle shirt and a pair of dark brown canvas pants. The shoes, that were on his feet, were a normal brown color. Like he said, his son's arms, which were very finely muscled, looked to of gotten bigger in the two weeks that he and Eshal were living in the house. His wife claimed that all of the boys worked out in a room that they added to the house nearly a year ago; his son's arms looked to be good convincers of that claim.

"Must be you. They don't look any bigger than what they were last month." Lhaklar said after glancing at his arms.

"Just come up from the room that your mother says you and your brothers made last year?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just did a little pumping, and magazine reading." his son replied.

"How much iron you boys got in that room?" he asked.

"Enough—few dumbbells, and a weight or two." his son replied.

"No machines down there?"

"Nope, just the weights."

"This room's in the basement, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, wanna see?"

His standing up must of been answer enough for his son, because he suddenly turned then left the room that he only just walked into. His son led him around the corner, then into the dining room, then into the kitchen; the door, that was to the left of the one that belonged to the kitchen closet, was opened after they reached it. He and his son went down the five concrete steps that led down to the basement quickly. After exiting the stairs, he noticed that the washer and dryer, that were to the right of the room, had the word Wildaire on them. He was quick to note that the room was small; it didn't run the length of the house. It was maybe twelve feet wide by twelve feet long. Other than the water heater, furnace, air conditioner, and electrical wires, the washer and dryer were the only things in it. There was a floor to ceiling hole beside the washing machine; his son led him to it quietly.

"You and your brothers made this?" he asked after stepping up then stopping before the hole that was beside the washing machine.

"Yeah," his son replied.

The hole, while round, was perfectly smooth on the edges. He was quite impressed; for his sons to do something like this, they'd of either had to use their powers or know how to use tools that'd make jagged edges become smooth. The hole, when he stepped into it, was attached to a tunnel that had a coating of cement on both its floor, walls, and ceiling. A series of torches were on the walls; they looked almost like the ones that he found and then took from the cellar of the residence that his family was living in nearly two years ago. The torches looked to of been made out of a metal of some sort; it looked like someone had heated and then bent them around to make a cone. A wire was wrapped around them a bunch of times. The metal and the wire were burnt; the torches had an antique appearance thanks to that burning process. Each of the torches had a pulsating, spherical crystal on their tops.

"Your mother said something about you and your brothers taking trips to the dump then bringing things that you find there home," he said after looking at the first torch that was on the wall of the tunnel. "One of you find these at one of the dumps that you visited?"

"No, those're made by hand." Lhaklar replied. He chuckled when he saw his facial expression then said, "Bile and Guyunis made those; the crystal pulsates in different colors after one claps their hands."

"The Pulseren spell?" he speculated aloud.

"Uh-huh," Lhaklar smiled then started down the tunnel.

He was floored when he saw the room that was at the end of the tunnel. His sons had done yet another impressive job in craftsmanship! The room was a little bigger than the basement; like the tunnel, a coating of cement was applied to its floor, walls, and ceiling. An old, brown leather couch was in its upper, left corner. A matching chair was against the wall beside it. A plank-wood coffee table was in front of them. The room had four bookcases in it; all of them had three shelves on them. The first bookcase had nothing but magazines and books on it while the second, third, and fourth had weights or dumbbells on them. There were two torches per wall in the room. A brown fur rug was in the center of the floor. He did the only thing that he saw fitting to do after entering the room—his eyes blinked, then closed, stayed shut for a second or two, then opened.

He went from being awe-struck to parental after re-opening his eyes then seeing the four posters that were on two of the room's walls.

"Has your mother ever been in this room?" he asked.

"No," Lhaklar answered.

"Bet she'd be quite shocked if she knew of them," he pointed at the posters.

"No, actually, she'd be fine with them." Lhaklar replied.

Sure she would, he thought. Sure and he'd grow wings then fly south for the winter. The first poster that his eyes landed on had a very beautiful woman on it. She was both on her back and arched over a bench. Other than the red satin cloth, that was obscuring her crotch, she wore not a shred of clothing. Her breasts were very exposed. Her hands were laced in her black hair, which was draped over the end of the bench. The next poster, which was beside the first one, had a blonde-haired woman on it; like with the woman in the first poster, this one's breasts were exposed. A black, lace-like garment was obscuring her crotch; there was a set of beads hanging from around her neck. Like with the woman that was on the first poster, the one that was on this one had green eyes. She was lying, all sprawled out, on a bed that had a leopard-print quilt on it. Both of these posters were on the wall that was behind the couch.

He could look past the poster that was on the room's left wall. While the brown-haired woman was naked, her parts were obscured. Her arms were crossed over a pair of voluptuous breasts. She was seated on a bed; he presumed that the man, that was both behind her and looked to be rubbing her shoulders, was also naked. There was no way in hell that he could look past the final poster. The woman, who had chestnut-brown hair and bright blue eyes, was very naked; she was draped over a bar counter. Just about everything could be seen on her. He was quick to turn his attention from that poster.

"Uh-oh," Lhaklar said.

"Uh-oh is about right." he said after regaining his composure. He shook his head then turned to leave the room; he went only two steps before stopping. "Think your mother and I will be having a chat on this room soon, son. I suggest that either you or one of your brothers take them posters down then dispose of them."

"She'd be fine with them." Lhaklar said. "She let's—"

"Son, don't pull that over me now. While its normal for one of your and your brothers' ages to have an interest in posters of that caliber, it's not normal, or right, for any of you to have or display them." he said.

"Dad—"

"No more, Lhaklar. Just do as I suggested for you to do." he said, then left the room.

Lhaklar did nothing but watch his father leave the room then go down the tunnel. Except for thinking that the man saw something that he didn't like, and that he forgot that he and his brothers weren't children anymore, he couldn't come to terms with what just happened. He and his brothers knew how their mother was; she let them express themselves, and she also let them hang things in certain rooms that they and, usually, only they entered or spent time in. She was, in a sense, a cool mom. Someone who let them express their sexualities, and who let them do certain things that a normal, hard-core mother wouldn't let them do. From what he just witnessed, he believed that his father was the exact opposite of what his mother was... and didn't he have other proofs of that?

Just a few days ago, when Hazaar and Lazeer were playing one of their favorite games on the Super Dendy game system, which was found by Bile on the twenty-fifth of September, when he visited the dump in Au am Rhein, their father walked in then used his Telekinesis to turn both the system and the tv off. Hazaar and Lazeer were upset over the game being turned off then they got even more upset after it was taken from them. It was all over a set of narration that was happening on the game at the time—a few curse words were used that their father had heard and, obviously, not liked. He took the game because of the usage of shit, fuck, and motherfucker; even though the game was returned to his brothers after their mother returned home, it wasn't played or even spoken about. Hazaar and Lazeer were nervous about playing it; they didn't want it to be taken from them again, or destroyed.

Bile became a "victim" of their father's strictness last night. While eating supper, he spoke on what he did with his friends. He used the word damn and hell twice, which was commented on by their father, who said for him to either change his vocabulary or end his conversation; Bile had said nothing for a few minutes before going on in telling everyone about how he and his friends went out to use their BB's—the table was slapped, then their father stood up then started getting on Bile for his using a gun and for hanging around a crowd that wasn't "appropriate" for his age. Their mother was quick to silence the man; a mild fight occurred between the two of them then no further conversation happened at the table. As far as he knew, Bile went out to spend some time with his friends earlier that day. Bile had said nothing of his activities after coming home at noon; he just came in then went up to his room.

And now he had this to add to them few mentioned things. While he didn't know the reason behind his leading his father down to the room that his mother called the Son Cave, he was fine in doing so. He saw no reason behind his not showing the man the room, or in trying to establish a relationship with him. Here he was, trying to show his father a room where he and his brothers spent time either working out, or reading magazines, or acting their gender in, and there was his father... who practically spat in his face then threw the book at him. He sighed then went to the two walls that the posters were on; while he was sure that his mother would be on his side about them, he did figure that he should comply in some degree to his father's suggestion. It was no problem in putting them back on the wall if their mother said that they were fine and that she was fine with their having them on their "Cave's" walls.

He took the posters down, then hid them behind the couch, then left the room. He returned to the kitchen a few minutes later. Upon entering the room, he found that his parents were in it and were talking.

"Honey, think reasonably now. The boys are a bit young for things like what's in that room." his father was saying to his mother. His father glanced at him before resuming his conversation with his mother. He responded to the glance by going to the fridge for a drink.

"I am thinking reasonably, Tazzy. The boys are teenagers now, not young boys. They've got a right in expressing themselves, and in hanging things that show off their sexualities." his mother replied.

"I take it that, when a baby's dropped on our doorstep, you'll say the same thing? Posters like what's in that room make thoughts occur. They make problems, Angel." his father said.

"Think I've already had this talk with them. They know better than to go out and have sex at their age."

"Do they, Angel? Things like them posters will, one day, make them want to do the experimenting thing."

"The boys have been allowed to have posters like what you've described since they reached the age of one thousand, five hundred years. Nothing bad has happened because of them, or because of their being allowed to express themselves."

"Suppose that you're also fine with the boys smoking as well?" his father, who now sounded a bit tempered, asked. "Bile came in a few hours ago reeking of that marijuana crap that's smoked on this planet. It was so bad that even Eshal noticed it!"

"As long as they don't smoke but so much, yes. I'm fine with it."

"Angel!"

He was trying to bite the chuckle back but, after his father said his mother's name in an elevated sort of way, it just bubbled to the surface. There was only one can of grape soda in the fridge that was cold and it just so happened to be in the way back. He took it out, opened it, then closed the door. His father had since turned to look at him; one look was enough to tell him that he was about to be snapped at. He wasn't but so surprised when he was a few seconds later.

"Your mother and I don't require an audience, Lhaklar." his father said.

"I'm not being an audience." he said back.

"It sure as hell looks like you're trying to be one, son."

"I'm not being an audience, I'm just—"

"Out!" his father barked.

"I'm just getting a drink, what's so criminal in doing that?"

"Tazir, really, stop it. He's doing nothing but getting himself something from the fridge." his mother said.

And, with that, he left the room. He went into the hallway that came off the foyer then stopped—but not to eavesdrop on his parents, who were still "dooking it" in the kitchen. Instead of eavesdropping on what they were talking about, he looked at the photographs that were both on the walls and the long, two-shelf, dark brown cabinet. All of the photographs were of him, his siblings, and their mother; all of the frames, that they were in, had new glass in them. After the October 2 earthquake, that happened after his father did his quick entrance to the planet that they were on, all of the glass items—the windows and anything else that was either made of or had glass in or on them—exploded. His mother repaired all of the house's windows and glass items with her powers a few days after the earthquake happened.

The first photograph that he looked at had him, his brothers, and their mother in it—it wasn't really a photograph. He used his Telepathy to take it from his mother's memory banks last year, in January. The photograph depicted him, his brothers, and their mother standing around a rather teary-eyed Guyunis; Bile had his hand on Guyunis's shoulder, while Hazaar and Lazeer were ganged up on him in a dual hug. He was on Guyunis's left; he was all smiles in the photograph. The memory that he made a photograph of was of when Guyunis was found and then brought to him and his siblings; he and his brothers had gained a new brother during the wee morning hours of Janaury 28.

The photograph that was beside that one was another that he took from his mother's memory banks. This one was taken some years ago—it was of Hazaar from when he was three hundred and eighty years old. Hazaar was walking down the stairs that were in their old Canadian apartment; he was wearing a pair of dark green and blue footie pajamas. His left arm was up; he was wiping the sleep out of his eyes with the hand that was attached to it. The next photograph was of Lazeer—like the previous one, it was taken from his mother's memory banks some years ago. Lazeer was just two hundred and eighty years old; his youngest brother was clinging to the banister of the same stairs that were in their old Canadian apartment. He was refusing to come down because he was afraid of tripping and then falling.

The following photograph had a seven hundred and forty-one year old Bile in it. Bile was holding Lazeer, who was no more than a hundred and forty-one years old. Another photograph of a seven hundred and forty-one year old Bile was beside that one. Bile was holding Lazeer and Hazaar; the latter was no more than two hundred and forty-one at the time of the photograph's taking. A photograph of him, as a six hundred and forty-one year old, was beside that one; Hazaar and Lazeer were on his lap. A photograph of his mother, who was sitting on a patch of flowers, was beside that one. Lazeer was on her lap while Hazaar was sitting beside her. He and Bile were standing behind her. All four of them photographs were taken at the same time and by the same man, who was a professional camera-person.

The next photograph was, originally, on the hallway cabinet. After the earthquake, it was moved to the wall. Bile and Guyunis were in it; they were standing in another of their old-resided, Canadian apartments. They were in the kitchen. Bile was standing in front of the sink; the window, that was over of the sink, showed that it was about to storm. Thick, black clouds hung all over; it was very dark outside but the photograph wasn't dark at all. It gave a rather happy feeling... a feeling of contentment and happiness. Bile was just one thousand, eight hundred, and twenty years old; he was just starting to move from wearing non-torn or ripped shirts to shirts that had a rip here, a tear there, and so forth—his arms were really starting to fill out with firm muscle! Guyunis was standing next to Bile. He stood just five foot, eight and a half inches; just a few inches shorter than Bile, who, at the time, was six foot, one and a half inches tall. Guyunis was a tall and thin kid back then. He didn't have any muscle on him at all when he was that age. The index and middle fingers of Bile's left hand were held up, behind Guyunis's head; at the time of the photograph's taking, Bile was giving their adopted brother a set of rabbit's ears.

The first photograph, that was on the hallway cabinet, had him, his siblings, and their mother in it. They were on an island in the Caribbean. Their mother had brought them to her last day of working on Water Works, a movie that she did the special effects on by use of her Elemental Powers. Due to it being rather chilly on that day, they were all wearing jackets. Bile—who was one thousand and eighty-two years old at the time of the movie's completion—and he—who was nine hundred and eighty-two years old at the time of the movie's completion—were on the island's shore. They were using their Elemental powers to splash water on one another in a game of chase. Hazaar and Lazeer were wrestling on the beach; Lazeer's blue and black jacket was nearly off of him, and Hazaar had sand in his rattail. Guyunis was permanently frozen in mid-jump above them; he was about to join them in their beach-wrestling. Guyunis was no more than seven hundred and eighty-two years old while Hazaar was no more than five hundred and eighty-two years old. Lazeer was no more than four hundred and eighty-two years old.

A photograph of Guyunis, from when he was no more than a few days old, was beside that one. The frame that was beside it had a series of holes in it, which housed five photographs of him and his siblings from when they were babies of various ages. The frame that had the five photographs in it was once on the wall; after the October 2 earthquake, it was moved to the cabinet. A photograph of their mother holding a three hundred and seventy-three year old Guyunis was next to that one. Other than the two potted plants that were beside the final frame, there was nothing else on the cabinet.

"Mom was talking about adding a few more photographs to the cabinet a few nights ago." he thought as he upended, then chugged a swallow of his soda. "She said something about adding some photographs of dad and Eshal to this hallway; with what's going on in the kitchen, it might be a while longer before a photograph or two of the old man's put up."

He turned then left the hallway. He went down the hallway that branched off the one that came off the foyer then went up the stairs. Before going into his bedroom, he happened on Bile. He told his brother to watch himself as their parents were "talking" in the kitchen; when Bile said that he was going to their Cave, he told him where the posters were. Bile said that he'd put them back on the room's walls then went down the hall. He went into his bedroom just before his brother started his descent down the stairs.