Well, this was taking longer than he was hoping. That's ironic. He's worried about time when he's confined to a space where such a concept has no meaning. The singularity is not bound by such constraints, and yet he is bound to it. The outside world could be consumed into oblivion by the star and he would not know. Was that the sight he would see once he was released? An empty void, the antithesis of reality itself? Only time will tell.

How much longer, he wonders. He titters between growing bored or growing anxious. Admittedly, he had grown used to the pain of being twisted and contorted and spaghettified within the singularity. No more stimuli to be found there. He would rest, perhaps even slumber, but it has been eons since he ever had a good night's sleep. Oh well. This wasn't the first time he's been left waiting. He can wait, the rest of the universe can't though.

"Abel."

A firm, masculine voice calls out to him from beyond the veil.

Abel smiles. (Or at least, he thinks he does. Hard to tell being pulled apart at so many, incomprehensible angles).

"Yes?"

The voice sighs.

"You know exactly what I'm about to ask for."

"Hmm, not sure. It's been quite some time. Refresh my memory," Abel replies slyly.

The voice grumbles.

"Very funny. You and I both know you don't just forget things. Especially a few certain things."

"Ohhhhh. Thattttttt," Abel playfully chimes. "Right, well, I would get it but if you can't tell I'm confined to a black hole at the moment. Shame really, I do want to return it but sadly, it's out of my hands."

The voice inhales and lets out a very audible groan.

"The more we talk, the more sorry I feel for Seth."

A firm, burly hand suddenly grabs a hold of Abel's shoulder and yanks hard. It's like pulling a boulder in a stream of molasse. Bit by bit, Abel feels himself becoming freed. First his arm, then his face, along with his torso, and finally, onto his legs. As soon as the last bit of his foot was pulled free, gravity took hold of him and he collapsed onto his knees, gasping and wheezing. How soothing it was to once again feel the freshness of the air. How wondrous it felt to be back on solid… ground? He looked down to see that he was seemingly on top of a sprawling ocean. All around was nothing but water that stretched far beyond even the horizon. It only just now clicked that he could feel the waves gently brushing against his knees, and yet, he remained dry. Ah, this place. Been a while since he's been here. Or rather, since Abel had been here.
Slowly regaining his strength, he weakly turned to face his supposed savior.

It was a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard. His hair was well kept but his beard's strands were tangled and curled. There were light traces of white on the hairs atop his head and his chin. His skin was peachy and had a few light wrinkles on it. His hands were soft, though had traces of scars around his fingers—blemishes from blisters when he was far less skilled in his craft. He wore a thick, red lumber jacket and dusted and beaten navy blue jeans. The belt that held his pants up was made from thick leather and held many pouches and holsters for different tools. Most notable was the mallet. Wooden, chipped, and rather unremarkable, at least, to the untrained eye. But that mallet had crafted the key that would save all of existence.

"Well, where is it?"

Abel snapped his gaze from the mallet to look at the man's face. He was met with piercing brick-colored eyes that demanded an answer. He was a patient man, but Abel had pushed him past that point. Rather impressive, really.

Abel pulled himself back up. The waves beneath his footing weren't helping his already wobbly knees.

"Before that, do you mind telling me what date it is, Moses?"

Moses raised a brow at Abel's inquiry.

"How exactly would that be relevant right now?"

Able massaged his side, his face briefly twisting in discomfort as he began to stretch, bit by bit regaining movement.

"Because, it's moving out and about as we speak. But every so often, it does need to take stops. The locations in which it has stopped or will be stopping by has been predetermined by myself, of course. If you would be so kind as to tell me the date, that would allow me to calculate where the ship has been, and better yet, where it will be."

Moses frowned. How could something so straightforward wind up being so complicated? Leave it to Abel to do something like that. Oh well, anything to get it back… eventually.

"August, August eleventh."

Abel took a deep breath. It's been three days. He was cutting it quite close. But he still had time. That was all that mattered.

"Alrighty!" Abel clapped with newfound energy. "It's at the last stop. Parked safe and soundly."

He reached out and placed a hand on Moses' shoulder.

"Now would you be kind enough to take us both to it?"

Moses deadpanned, slowly turning to look at Abel's hand before turning back to look at him.

"Oh come now!" Abel chirped. "I'm still recovering. And besides, you're the one who wants to see it so badly again."

Fair and fair. Dammit. He could do without that peppy tone of his.

Thinking it best to not argue against him, lest to be met with that quippy tongue, Moses bent down and gently poked the surface of the water beneath them. It rippled slightly before slowly surging, building up in frequency and power. In a matter of moments, the ripples surged into waves that violently shook the pair. But that wasn't all. The waves seemed to shake the very air itself, warbling and distorting time and space. However, Abel had other things occupying his mind.

He looked down at himself. His clothes were all torn. There were more rips than actual cloth left. The bandages around his forearms were all loose and mangled, and the one covering his eye had long since been ripped off his face. He tugged at the scarf still barely hanging from his neck and sighed. Tattered strings of yarn were all that truly remained. He delicately tied it back around his neck.

As he did, his left hand caught his eye. His wounds from his earlier encounter with the star were still fresh. In fact, they were glowing white hot. The stinging, singing pain surged through the nerves of his left arm, but he barely reacted to it. Instead, he gently plucked the last strand of string that had survived from his arm. Carefully, he tied the two ends together into a small knot and placed it between his lips. He combed his hands through his hair. Greasy, tangled, much, much longer than before. It ran down to his upper back now. Oh well, he would do something with it later. For now, this should suffice.

Taking the string from his mouth, he tied his hair into a low ponytail. As he did so, he could feel eyes staring at him. Without turning around, he called out.

"I know what you're thinking. You can say it."

There was a slight pause.

"Your hair got longer and you're, well, taller. I dunno. It's weird."

Abel smiled slightly. How kind Moses was to ignore the glaring, glowing elephant in the room. He should try to be a bit more like him. Just a bit.

"It's a new look. I chalk up my taller height to the spaghettification process. That aside, I had long hair before."

"That was a different time."

"Time is a fickle thing. I was just in an event horizon, you know."

.

.

.

After the ripples quelled themselves, the pair found themselves on a strange island. It was a small island, only allowing for fifteen castaways at most. It could fit more if it wasn't for the tree in the middle of the island. It had long since died, its bark was blackened and dull, its roots protruding from the ground, stale and hollow. A few feet away from the tree was a dock. It was as old and decrepit as the tree but was of an entirely different species. Strung on it were a few strands of fibers that loosely resembled rope.

But the most curious thing about the island was that it was in the middle of nothing. Nothing but an empty void surrounding it on all sounds. Thick and palpable—as if you were to reach your hand out beyond the island's grasp, your hand would be swallowed into nothingness. It was an island in every sense of the word.

"Well, where is it?" Moses asked, his voice growing audibly agitated.

Abel raised his finger.

"Any second now."

Moses grumbled.

"Thought you said it was parked at its last stop."

"Oopsie, might have gotten the timing just a tad wrong," Abel jested, sticking his tongue out as he shrugged.

"Don't worry, don't worry," Abel chimed before Moses would blow up. "Everything is going according to schedule."

That seemed to calm Moses down, albeit just a little. Despite his antics, Moses did trust Abel. Though he could always do without that added sprinkle of sass. Still, there was nothing to be done except to wait.

"What exactly is this place?"

As Moses looked around to help pass the time, a strange feeling began to tug at him. He has seen this place before. And yet, he didn't. He knew for a fact that everything he was seeing was new to him. But still, the feeling remained. The hint of deja vu, the building confusion, a pinch of curiosity—he needed an answer from Abel.

"This was all I was able to save," Abel muttered.

Moses furrowed a brow.

"Huh? I don't—"

"Eden. The original. This was all I was able to salvage from the flames."

Moses' eyes slowly widened as the weight dawned on him. This was where it all started. Shame began to swell inside of him. It had been so long. But that did not excuse how he could have forgotten such a place as this.

That tree. He remembers it now.

"It's alright," Abel smiled. "I don't blame you for blocking it out of your memory."

He can't. He doesn't deserve to.

A sudden rumbling jolts the pair to attention. Looking out towards the distance, they could see it slowly coming into view. From where it was, it almost looked comically small, like a toy. But from where it was, that size was impressive in and of itself. As it closed the distance, the more its sheer size and splendor could be seen.

The ark. Robust, mountainous, and almost archaic in its design (though Moses argued it gave it charm), this would be the most appropriate vessel for the universe's salvation. It began veering slightly, turning itself to properly align with the dock. Abel turned to look at Moses' reaction. He could almost see tears beginning to well up in Moses' eyes.
To have such pride in your creations. How envious.

"How long has it been since she's set sail?" Moses asked aloud. "Hmph. I guess I can slightly forgive you for letting me see her like this again."

Abel quietly approached Moses from behind, allowing him to soak in the view.

"Can you forgive me for this as well?"

Before Moses could react, he felt a sharp strike on the back of his neck before everything went cold and faded to darkness.

Abel grabbed a hold of Moses from under his arms. As gently as he could, he leaned Moses on top of his chest and began dragging him backward. Carefully, he set him down just at the foot of the tree, his body slumped and propped upright.

"Sorry Moses," Abel sighed at his now slumbering compatriot. "I still have use for it. And we don't have the convenience of time for me to ask for permission."
Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, he'd always say.

"Not that you'd give me it anyway," he chuckled.

He turned toward the dock and began somberly marching to his fate. This was it. The end all be all. The worst possible case scenario. But he had planned for this. He always made plans, especially for this inevitability. But planning and accounting for possible situations and scenarios never meant he would enjoy what he would have to do next.

"Don't worry," he smiled as he turned back one last time. "If all goes well, you won't even remember I took it. And besides, you wouldn't want to be there when I do what I have to do."

With nothing more to say, he made his way to the ark.

His steps felt hollow as he sauntered on the planks of the dock. The ark was parked parallel to the dock, patiently awaiting its last passenger. Abel looked up upon the portside of the ship and reached his hand out, brushing it against the sturdy gopher wood.

How many worlds have you visited? How many planets have you had to witness being annihilated? How many were you able to save from such a terrible fate? He would find out soon enough.

A ladder made from rope is tossed over the side of the ship, landing right next to Abel. He looks up to see the silhouette of a feline. He smiles. Yes, yes. No time to dilly-dally.

When he had pulled himself over the edge of the boat, the feline was sitting, waiting for it. Next to it was a set of clothes. The pile consisted of a pair of a long-sleeve shirt, a woolen coat, a pair of gloves, and leather boots. The jacket was different from what he was used to wearing. It had two straps near the collar and did not have a belt. Not that he usually tied his anyway. The size was smaller than what he was used to, yet was still oddly able to compensate for his new size comfortably. His would normally dangle just above the ground, but this jacket hung just at his upper thighs. That made zipping it up easier.

There were a few buttons here and there, but what stood out the most was the assortment of belts and buckles on the left sleeve. There were archaic engraves on the buckles. Magic suppressants. He looked down solemnly at his still-glowing left arm. Giving little to no reaction, he slipped the jacket on and fastened the straps.

The set as a whole was mostly plain, jet-black with some slight contrast with gray. As he finished tying the last lace of his boots, he turned to the cat.

"Thank you."

The cat licked its paw with a smirk of pride.

"How were you able to guess the size?"

"Oh, a bit of a lucky guess, really."

Abel raised a brow.

"I am you and you are me," the cat said factually. "At this time that we coexist within the space corporeal space, I am able to peer into your life as you are able to do so into mine. Granted, I only get snippets and inklings but it's enough to make a sufficient guess."

Abel hummed in response.

He turned to look at a doorway. No doubt, it led to the multitude of cabins below deck. The sheer size was nearly uncountable. It was like it was a separate world down below. It would be the last world in the whole universe to remain. Abel could feel it. The all-devouring madness had finally set its grasp on the last remaining solar system. It was barely clinging to the last semblance of sanity. But it would not he long before it would begin to spiral into feverish anarchy and lucid chaos.

He sighed as he muttered an apology to Bathsheba. He never wanted to have used her in such a way. But fate was cruel, and he had to adapt to its whims.

Before the guilt could swell up, he shrugged it off. His apology would mean nothing if there was nothing left to apologize to. He reached out and clasped the handle of the door.

"Time for the hard part."