The years eventually wear down everyone—some faster than others.

Meanwhile, Noah, Eunie and Lanz meet a new—yet oddly familiar—friend, and Joran has a peaceful late night working in his trinket-shop.

Old Age

Noah heard a strange sound from outside his door; scratching, and scraping, and something high-pitched.

He groaned at the exertion of pulling himself up from his chair to investigate. Years to get used to it now, and yet something about being frail and wrinkled like this felt strange, and unfamiliar—wrong. His knees and back ached when he tried to use them, his fingers had lost the deft precision he once had, and his lungs never seemed to have as much air in them.

Still there was the draining sense of loss and lostness, but as the decades ticked by, the feelings didn't cripple him so much—not every day, at least. With the help of Doctor Mwamba, he'd learned to cope with 'the void' of despair, and to do his best to ignore the music; to not feed his unhealthy obsession with a hallucination. In essence, he'd sort of half given up—if it was really there, and was really someone trying to reach out, they would come to him.

Of course, that was all it was—giving up. The void was still there, he'd just learned how to wade in it without drowning. He still needed something—someone—but he'd reached old age and never found it. Eunie and Lanz were also alone, but at least they had time; especially Lanz, who didn't look a day over 20.

Reaching the door, he peered through the peephole, and saw nobody standing there. But the scratching didn't go away; listening closely, it sounded like it was focused at the bottom of the door…

It must have been a hox trying to get in. He stepped back away, only to hear a heart-melting little squeak.

His eyes widened. That was no hox! That was a…

He pulled the door open, and at his feet, was such a small creature—a little mewling white cat, shivering from the cold. Not quite a kitten, but not exactly an adult either. The little cat had no collar, and its fur looked all scruffy and messy. It stared up at him, with bright little golden eyes, shaking; the sight made his heart skip a beat, and ache.

Poor thing, he couldn't just leave it alone out there…

Opening the door wide, he beckoned the cat inside; it looked nervous about coming in, taking slow, cautious steps, but still, it did come in, shivering just a little less. The floor was getting a few slightly muddy marks, but comforting the helpless little cat was more important than a temporary mess.

He didn't have any cat food, but a brief check on Ether-Net told him they could eat plain boiled rice? He could whip that up in a few minutes.

As he set the kettle on and searched for a pack of instant rice, he resolved to call over a vet; they'd make sure the cat was okay, and… they should probably try to find its owner, shouldn't they? All pets were chipped in this part of the world…

A frown set in his face at the thought, then exchanged for a smile when the almost-kitten huddled on his leg. Was it so wrong that he hoped there would be nobody else, so that he could keep her?

"You look well, Noah," Doctor Mwamba said, taking off his scarf.

Noah nodded, taking Mwamba's hand into a firm shake—or as firm as he could manage, with what strength he had. "Thank you, I've been doing great the last few days, actually."

"That's great news!" Mwamba said with a comforting smile, as always. "I look forward to hearing more about tha— Oh! And who might this be?" he asked, pointing with his eyes towards Noah's new friend, who peered from around the corner. Clearly, she was afraid that Mwamba was another vet. She'd put up an incredible fight then, not realizing it wasn't exactly a fight for dear life. It had been embarrassing, but the vet assured Noah that this was a common occurrence with vet visits.

Noah beamed—the largest smile he'd shown anybody else in a long time. "Her name is Mio."

'Mio' was the perfect name; a name he felt like he could say ten thousand times and never grow tired of; beautiful, sweet, familiar… and of course, catlike. Some might accuse him of being bad at naming—he might even acknowledge it—but this one just felt inspired.

Noah continued, "I found her hungry at my doorstep, and took her in for something to eat. I had a vet visit yesterday, and she's all healthy. Unchipped, too, so I decided I'd give her a home." He watched as she scurried back behind the corner. "She gets a little bitey though, so maybe don't try to pet her," he warned, showing the red marks on his hand.

"I'll keep it in mind! May I hazard a guess that she's related to your recent 'doing great'?"

"Of course. Tea?"

Mwamba nodded. "Please."

The floor was hard-ish like trees, but gave off so much heat for her little paws. It was cozy here…

A few days ago, she'd looked up at the Friendly One, and begged for food. Some Big Ones were nice and gave her a little something to nibble or drink, others ignored her. She was used to being ignored, but this Big One gave hot white grainy food, and even let her in his warm shelter!

She was cautious, of course—but he proved to be mostly reliable. Mostly. So far, he had committed two grave offenses:

First, he'd allowed another Big One near her; a very grabby one, wearing a white covering, who picked up and examined her, ruffling on her fur, and surely trying to decide how to eat her! Naturally she protested this, squiggling around and brandishing her fierce claws with every chance she had. It must have worked, because she was still all in one piece, and the Scary One had been fended off.

Secondly, he had tried to drown her—put her in a warm little pond covered in frothy bubbles, scrubbing her all over! She forgave him for that though, because he seemed to feel remorse and stop eventually, and even dried her off! Plus, afterwards, he gave her something way tastier than the grainy stuff—meat! Chunky little wet meats from a shiny tube! So full of juicy yumness!

The next day, yet another Big One visited, but he wasn't so scary; he just sat down at a comfortable distance, and talked softly to the Friendly One for a while, drinking some smelly grass water.

Now, the Friendly One was calling her over with his silly nonsense noises; she liked them, because being the inter-species communication genius she was, she'd figured out they were food nonsense noises!

She ran over to him, rubbing on his leg as he readied the shiny food tube. She purred appreciatively, both for his bestowal of treats now, and the head pats and chin scratches he would soon give. Such a kind Big One this was, even though she could smell how sad he was.

Wet, chunky yumness splashed on the round shiny floor thing, and she broke away from his leg to munch away, ears perking up.

His big fingers touched her head, stroking along her gently. He gave special attention to her soft, fluffy ear tufts, and she struggled to decide between eating, and leaning into his hand. It was early days still, but they had an arrangement; she got food, and he got to cuddle her! She was good at cuddles! And at 'tooth battle' practice! He wasn't as much of a fan of battle practice as regular cuddles, but he still gave those loud chest-movings of surprised joy when she began a session!

He moved on and interrupted her consumption with a hand curling under her mouth, on her neck. She purred and mewled in protest; no fair! How was she supposed to resist chin scratchies?…

"Mudder. Fucker. Seriously not cool, Noah. Why didn't you call us over sooner? Look at this little cutie!" Eunie cooed, on her knees as she gave Noah's new cat, Mio, the ear scritching of a lifetime. "Who's a good kitty, eh? Who's a good kitty?"

Mio's eyes drooped closed, and she answered with an agreeable meow. You could almost imagine her answering, 'I am!'

"Well, I only just found out a few days ago that I'd be keeping her…" Noah smiled, scratching the back of his right hand.

Lanz laughed, patting Noah on the shoulder. "Wouldn't be too sure of that just yet—looks like Eunie might steal her away if you don't keep an eye out."

"Mmm, don't tempt me…" she murmured, a dopey grin on her face. "I wanna cuddle her forever 'n ever… Precious little fuzzy baby… If you kick the bucket, I'm callin' dibs."

"Well, I'd hope I have a bit more time left in me," Noah chuckled. "But sure, that sounds fine by me. Seems like she likes you too."

"Yeah she does. You like Mummy Eunie, don't you? Yes you do!"

"Mrrow!"

Noah hid a grimace. It was a little pathetic, but somehow he managed to feel a pang of jealousy; she was letting Eunie rub her fuzzy belly now—even Noah wasn't allowed to do that yet, and she was his Mio! She wasn't Eunie's, she was his! They only just met! Were Eunie's feathers made of catnip?

He calmed himself down with some careful, slow breathing. Quietly, so as not to sound insane for being bothered in the first place. Why did he get so agitated by the thought of someone else having her?

"So what's this little princess' name?" Eunie asked, not taking her eyes off said royal feline. Mio pawed upwards, trying to grab the spare hand Eunie kept teasing with by dangling just out of her reach.

"This is the guy who called his toy sword the 'Xenoblade' when we were kids," Lanz reminded her. "I bet he's called her 'Meowy' or 'Cat' or something. Poor thing."

"No, I didn't call her 'Cat', or 'Meowy'…" But that second guess was uncomfortably close. Looking down at his shoes, with a quiet voice he mumbled, "I called her 'Mio'…"

He braced himself for the inevitable…

Yep, there was Lanz bellowing and clutching his belly. "C'mon, really?! 'Mio'? If you get a dog, are you gonna call him 'Ruff'?"

And there was Eunie cackling like a maniac, which somehow didn't disturb the cat in her hands. "Seriously? 'Not gonna lie though, I kinda thought it'd be 'Nerys' or 'Catgirl', so I guess it's not that bad…"

He shook his head in mock disappointment. "Have you so little faith in me, Eunie?"

Her joke was funny, he had to admit. Less funny was that he'd actually considered it for a few seconds… but she didn't need to know about that.

Noah sighed, exasperated by this baffling behavior. "You're so impossible, Mio."

The previous few winters had been the same. First she would gaze longingly out the glass, standing up and scratching at the window. She'd look back at him pleadingly, with those big, irresistible little sad eyes. He would give in, because of course he would.

And then the moment he opened the door, suddenly she didn't want to go outside anymore. She would hang halfway out, halfway in, or would step out entirely, but rush back in. Then she'd look up at him with worry, and mewl sadly, as if he'd offended her in some way he didn't understand.

"Yes, Mio," he explained gently to the confused feline, with a little smile curling at his lips, "Snow is still cold. Just like it was five minutes ago."

The mind of a cat was truly inscrutable.

"Snuffin' hell, Noah," Lanz grumbled, helping his old friend back on his feet. "You really need to be more careful. Get a bloody cane or something, like I told you."

Noah fell, and couldn't get back up. Lanz happened to come over and find him sprawled on the ground, Mio nuzzling into his side with the saddest little face he'd ever seen.

"Sorry," Noah groaned. "But really, I just slipped."

Lanz sighed. "Like I'm gonna believe that."

His buddy wasn't doing well—actually, scratch that, he was doing great for his age, for a Homs. It felt like shit to see his friend practically fall apart like this, and even shittier to know it'd only be getting worse. Same for Joran and all—that green head of hair turned white, his face got all wrinkled, and he couldn't lift planks and blocks like he used to.

"I mean it, Lanz, you don't have to protect me." Noah smiled. "I could've gotten up by myself."

What a load of shite.

Lanz was supposed to protect his friends—defend and save everyone he could reach—but he couldn't protect them from this. All this strength, and he couldn't do a damn thing. A shame there wasn't a way to stop time, or give them a new, fresh body every time the last one wore out.

That, and Noah'd obviously been stuck down there. Power frames weren't good for the elderly, so he just had his own strength to work with, and that…wasn't much; he'd seen Noah with his arms in place, trying to push himself back on his knees at least. But he'd strained the whole time, and still failed.

"Yeah, sure," Lanz pretended to agree. "But I still worry about you, mate. I don't wanna end up hearing from Eunie that you've had an accident, you know?"

The thought of ending up like that himself one day—even if it was 9,000 years out—didn't feel real to him. Or maybe it was just that he wanted to think like it didn't… because what was Lanz good for, if he couldn't protect others?

Joran's deft brush dipped back into paint for a slightly darker shade of green—it slicked across the wood's surface, leaving beautiful swirls across large wing-arms.

This doll had so many intricate, pretty little details, just like the real creatures it was based off; the alluring, majestic telethia—ancient beings from the old world, and ancestors of his husband. He had seen them on a trip to Alcamoth; they weren't as hostile as they were said to once be, leaving them easy to admire in all their transcendent beauty—their bright, ethereal wings, and the shimmering green hues of their skin…

The knowledge that someone like Eunie had descended from these creatures seemed impossible, and deeply amusing to all of them.

Of course, this model was something of an original design, not a real telethia species—a quadruped with a pair of massive wings that doubled as arms. He called it the 'Endbringer'; fitting, given its impressive appearance, and the original nature of telethia as destroyers sent by the old soul of the Bionis' corpse.

Upon applying the finishing touches, he set down his brush and left it to dry under the ether lamp. He wiped fingers against his smock to clear off the dampest of the paint, and turned away from the table to stare at the shelves. Wooden trinkets galore, such as Brog Güiros, flutes, puzzles, small clocks, figurines and stringed puppets of animals and heroes… Those were his favorites—the things that resembled life, and people. Sure, he'd had his brief stint making furniture and the like, but this was what he really got into carpentry for; small things, to make people smile. This was what filled him with true elation.

He fondly remembered all the little gifts—crude by comparison to his current skills—he'd given to his friends when they were younger; the Nerys figure and practice flute that Noah still had on his shelf to this day; the wooden fourtune clover wall-decoration and 'Sharpshooter Eunie'; a goofy little Lanz dunking a hoop-ball, and a 'Sir Dunban' mini-statue…

Prompted by a buzz, Joran checked his IRIS; he'd been sent a text from 'Gravel'—Garvel's username, and an in-joke that spawned after autocorrect struck a few too many times.

"Don't stay there too long! Dinner will be done soon! xoxoxo!"

Joran chuckled. It was past closing time, but he always did hang about in the shop afterwards; when else was he supposed to actually carve the toys and trinkets to sell?… Okay, fine, he did do it at home too, but Garvel wasn't keen on the relentless sound of peeling wood, and the shop had more space—plus, this way he didn't leave quite as many wood shavings all over their house.

Still, he had a little more time—the Endbringer would dry out nicely overnight, and he could start work on a rhogul…

Over the course of a few minutes, he whittled a small chunk of wood into the rough shape of one of those beautiful birds that soared high overhead—wings, body, head, and legs. The choppy chiseling sound echoed into the shop.

Still incredibly chunky, but it would be developed further.

As he picked up a smaller knife—suited for more precise carving—he was interrupted by an urgent knocking on the door.

"Hm?" he muttered, pulling back to stand up. "Who could that be?…"