The Non-Human Society

Some places never changed, even after hundreds of years.

And some people didn’t change either.

“Listen to this Nann,” Nasba drew closer to the Weaver, smirking happily as she coughed and cleared her voice as to read aloud from her letter.

“My bet is that by the time they reach you, she either has him wrapped around her finger, or she’s become a slush of a bubbly mess and has become completely smitten with him. What I’d really like to know though, is if she’s been able to make him admit it yet, and how far they’ve gone,” Nasba happily read Merit’s letter to her, with her smirk increasingly covering more and more of her face as she did so.

I sighed as I turned the leather strap around, to start puncturing the tiny holes on the other end. For the eventual seams and tie-downs I’d install on it.

Renn was lucky she was fast asleep. Or else I’d be glaring at her right now.

“Well, I’m not sure if she’s a bubbly mess yet, but she’s definitely smitten for him. Even when she was able to pull her eyes off him, she kept an ear pointed his way the whole time,” the Weaver said calmly.

Nasba happily giggled and nodded, her tail feathers expanding in the process. “Right! Though… hm…” the duck turned to me, and frowned at me.

“What?” I asked, and decided that the next time I saw Merit I was going to throw her into a pond. The slimiest one I could find.

“Hm… I’m just wondering if I should feel sorry for my friend, or be happy for you is all,” Nasba said.

I shook my head at her as the Weaver gestured for her to continue. “What’s the rest say?” Nann asked.

“Hm,” Nasba nodded and went back to reading. “Take care of Renn either way. She’s a lovely soul, if a little unsure of herself. If we take care of her and keep her out of trouble, from herself mostly, she’ll end up being someone very important that we can rely on later,” Nasba continued.

“Is she now?” Nann asked me.

I nodded. “Merit’s not exaggerating,” I admitted.

Nasba whistled as she stepped over to me, her large tail feathers folding so she could walk between the leather work station and the nearby rack of tools. “High praise from you. And Merit too, honestly. That old grouch hasn’t seemed so interested in someone in years,” Nasba said.

“Centuries,” I corrected the duck.

“Indeed. You must not have told us everything about what happened. How’d Merit and her even have a chance to grow close, Vim?” the Weaver asked as she stopped messing with her spool of yarn.

“I didn’t leave anything out. I told you they became fast friends, somehow. I even caught them taking a bath with each other,” I told them.

Both Nasba and Nann raised eyebrows at that, and Nasba stepped closer to me. She leaned forward, to glare me in the eye.

“Really?” she asked.

“Really. Ask her yourself. Renn’s an open book… regretfully,” I said. Actually, please just go bug her instead. Not only would it make it easier for me, I bet Renn would enjoy every moment of their teasing.

Nasba glared at me for a moment, and then sighed. “Knowing Merit she probably got close to her originally as to see if she really claimed Vim or not. Then along the way became friends,” Nasba reasoned it.

I blinked and frowned, as I realized that was likely… well… yes.

“That’s exactly how it happened, isn’t it?” I said with a sigh.

Nasba giggled at me, patting me on the shoulder as she walked around me. “Bet it is! So…” she stopped behind me, and with both of her hands on my shoulders… leaned over my right shoulder, and blinked seductively at me. “How far have you gone, then?” she asked.

“She’d tell you all about it if you’d just ask her,” I said, looking away from the duck’s poor attempt.

Nasba sighed at me, flicked my ear, and then stepped away.

The Weaver giggled lightly, and gestured to the nearby table. “Would you get me Brandy’s letter, dear?” she asked.

Nasba quickly obliged, putting her own letter from Merit down and grabbing the one from Brandy.

“Don’t be upset, Nasba. I can tell he’s not taken it too far yet. He’d be smirking more if he had by now,” Nann said as she went to opening Brandy’s letter.

“Hm… probably,” I admitted.

“You’re boring Vim,” Nasba commented as she went to sit back down next to the Weaver.

“I am,” I admitted again.

Returning my attention to the leather I was working on, I enjoyed the few moments of silence as the Weaver read her friend’s letter.

“Hm… basically the same. Lumen’s Monarch attack, having to flee, returning in triumph… Brom’s loss. She also speaks of a human pirate. One that Vim brought into the Society. She worries he’s too dangerous for such an important position, but is afraid to challenge Vim over it,” the Weaver said.

“She made no complaint of Ronalldo,” I said as I stopped messing with the leather again.

“Because you’re scary, Vim. How many of us are left that would even be willing to argue with you anymore?” Nasba asked with a smirk.

Well…

“Which is why she is telling me. So that I’ll do it for her,” the Weaver said with a smile.

“She is good at making others do her dirty work,” I mumbled.

Nasba giggled as the Weaver went to read the next page of her letter. It seemed it was shorter than Merit’s, only a couple pages long.

“Hm… she only mentions Renn at the end. A single sentence,” Nann then said.

I shifted, and waited… a little impatiently, for her to say it.

The old bird smirked as she folded Brandy’s letter back up, and handed it to Nasba. “Renn is our only hope of distracting Vim, she says.”

Nasba took the letter, and went to smirking too as she stood. “What’s with that?” Nasba said with a laugh.

“Something stupid,” I said.

“On the contrary. Very telling,” Nann said gently.

It was. But… damn it, I’ll never admit it.

While Nasba put the letter away, humming happily, the Weaver turned a little. To sit away from her workstation, and the large wheel next to it.

Recognizing the very obvious intention, I put down my own leather and tools, and turned to face her.

“You’re weathered Vim,” she said.

Nasba’s feathers folded inward, making an odd sound as she hesitated. She remained standing, even though she had been in the middle of returning to her seat.

It was funny that someone so much older always acted the inferior. Nasba had more than two hundred years on Nann, at least. Yet for all intents and purposes, Nann was the elder here. To Nasba she was basically a mother. And not just because she had married Nann's grandson.

“A lot has happened,” I admitted.

“Concerning. That means you’ve either neglected to tell us everything… or something more personal has happened, and it’s bothering you,” Nann said.

“Can we just blame it on the one lazily sleeping, or are we going to spend the next several hours beating around the bush?” I asked the Weaver.

Nasba’s feathers made noises again, as they rose upward off the ground. She apprehensively shifted as she looked from me to her mother-in-law.

“Speaking of Renn… were you pushing her? She seemed oddly fatigued,” Nann said, casually switching topics. I knew better than to think I had avoided it though. She wasn’t called the Weaver because of her sewing or weaving skills. Or because that was the type of bird she had been created from.

And she wasn’t wrong. We had arrived here late in the night, and Renn had spent most the night and the following morning talking and telling stories with the Weaver and the rest here. Yet the moment the hubbub died down she had drifted off to sleep, and had been since. If she didn't wake soon, she'd sleep long past the point that it would be considered normal. Which meant she had been exhausted.

“Slightly. She got a little sick a few weeks ago. I let her rest and recuperate as much as possible, but this is the first place since then where she likely feels comfortable enough to truly sleep. We’ve been on the road since then,” I told her the truth.

“The plague?” Nasba asked.

I nodded. “Possibly. I made sure to spend enough time between her getting better and coming here. She’ll not be contagious. No more than any other human or animal you’ve encountered lately, at least,” I said.

Nann waved it off. “We’ve had the plague show up and leave already, as you know Vim. But I find it interesting you’d push her. Why?” Nann focused on something most would have ignored in favor of the disease.

Taking a small breath I nodded. “Many odd things have been happening. I’ve not had this much chaos since the wars. Granted it’s not as bad as the wars were, but it’s enough to concern me. I fear the world is simply once again becoming hectic,” I told Nann the truth.

“Already…?” Nasba asked worriedly.

Nann sighed as she shifted her dress a little, a tiny habit she’s had since I’d known her. “You should not have allowed Landi such freedoms, Vim. I’ve always been a vocal supporter of your hands-off approach to our Society, but there should be limits,” Nann said.

“I wasn’t blaming Landi. Even if I had punished her, I believe discord would still have come,” I said.

Nann smiled and nodded. “I know. But let me poke at the woman who once tried to take my husband,” Nann said.

“Tried. Tried to take, Nann. He’s one of the few she hadn’t bedded,” I pointed out to her.

Nann smiled, proudly, and I smiled back. Yes. She always liked to hear that her husband had remained faithful, when so many others hadn’t. It was a great source of pride for her, and the few others who could say the same.

For as crazy as Landi was, she somehow had found her way into more beds than you’d think.

“Speaking of husbands, are you Renn’s, Vim?” Nasba asked.

I ignored her and gestured at the Weaver with a small wave. “So you didn’t mistake it. I pushed her. But it was a necessity. I’m still expecting bad news from Lumen at any moment, too, with all the political junk going on there. I don’t think Brandy and the rest comprehend just how violent humans can get during such upheavals,” I said.

“Oh I believe Brandy knows. She just doesn’t care. I’ve always found it odd that someone so religious could be so greedy,” Nann said, also willing to ignore Nasba.

The duck sighed as she stepped forward, and finally sat back down. She pouted a little, letting her long tail feathers fan out over the workshop floor.

“Still… I worry Vim. I would not mind meeting my end. I’ve lived a long, fulfilling life. But I have many children. Even if their lives are now fleeting and simple, I still cherish them. Every single one. If anything now that they’re so feeble, I worry even more. They are no longer strong. No longer able to endure. Weak, gentle little things they are,” Nann said, her expression going a little dull… likely as she thought of the many humans who were descendants of hers. There were now nearly fifty of them here, and who knows how many elsewhere.

I nodded. “I know, Nann. I think you’re fine here. The village nearby is simple. Still small. Not bothered by the church or its lords. The humans don’t question your family, or you, and you have a good relationship with them. You’re distant from the plague, the wars, and any major city. I…” I hesitated, as I held Nann’s and Nasba’s gazes. They were sad, and full of worry. “The ones I worry for… I worry for those I don’t get to often. Those too far to help, when they need me. The more chaotic the world gets, the more centralized my presence becomes. Just like with the wars,” I told them.

“That is not your fault Vim. Those who live too far away do so out of their own desires. Although we may weep upon losing them, there is little more we can do when it happens,” Nann said gently.

I nodded, even though I hated to agree with her. “What of the parrots?” I asked, since we were on the topic of distant members.

“Saw them last year. They were fine. Gribon is as grumpy as ever, but they were healthy. I’d assume they still are, Vim. You talk of those in danger because they live near humans and their chaos, well… they need not worry over that,” Nann said with a smile.

Yes. It was true. The parrots lived so far from any humans it was almost hilarious.

But it was still good to hear they were fine.

“He’s going bald too, by the way. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him,” Nasba pointed out.

Nann smirked and nodded in a way that told me she had forgotten.

I smiled and chuckled at the thought. So they were getting that old, were they?

Good. I’m glad they had survived so long. Even if I didn’t like their stupid singing.

“He just thought of their yodeling,” Nasba said with a giggle.

“He did,” Nann nodded.

I sighed and crossed my arms. How come I wasn’t allowed to have privacy in my own thoughts anymore? Between them and Renn… I swear.

“Now he’s upset,” Nasba said.

“He has been. He’s on edge because he knows I’m getting ready to interrogate him about Renn,” Nann said.

My left leg shifted a little.

Nann smirked at me, knowingly, and nodded. “Don’t get me wrong Vim. I’m vastly looking forward to spending time with the girl. But you… you I’ve known for almost a thousand years. And I do believe this is the first time I've seen you actually bothered by a woman’s affection?” Nann said as she pondered it.

Was it? Surely not.

“I don’t know… I’ve seen him bothered before,” Nasba said.

“Not like this. This is more real. He went straight here, to work with his hands. Vim only does that when he’s trying to distract himself,” Nann said with a gesture to the workbench in front of me. Or rather, to my side now.

“I’ve got a few things I need to make,” I pretended to defend myself.

Nann sighed at me, and blinked her pretty blue eyes… then she tilted her head and pondered for a moment.

I didn’t like that look. Nann was oddly perceptive. And like her namesake, and bloodline, she saw through webs and weaves with ease. She unraveled mysteries easier than she made them. And some of the ones she created still confounded the world today. Poor Hands still hasn't figured out how to solve that puzzle she left for him centuries ago.

“She seems rather gentle, though. She was fine talking not just to us, but our human children. She didn’t just acknowledge them, she actually saw them. They weren’t just animals to her. To her they were people,” Nasba mentioned.

Nann nodded, agreeing. “Indeed. A very rare trait for someone so thick in the blood of her ancestors. Is she a Monarch Vim?” Nann asked.

“No…? Why do you ask?” I asked, and paid close attention to Nann’s eyes. She was still looking downward a little, more lost in her thoughts than focused on us.

“Not sure… Maybe she’s a direct descendant, then. She somewhat reminds me of the few I’ve met. Like Yangli,” Nann said as she pondered it.

Damn. She really was astute. I’ll need to take the heart from Renn later.

“I doubt she’s a Monarch. As much as it would make sense for Vim to end up with one, I can confidently say he’d never overlook it. I’ve been abandoned by him one too many times just so he can go hunt them to not know how much he hates them,” Nasba said with a huff as her feathers fanned out again, in annoyance.

“Abandoned? No. Left behind for a moment, temporarily…? Yes. In safe places, out of reach of danger,” I corrected her.

Nasba smirked but said nothing.

“Still… I suppose it was bound to happen eventually, but I can’t help but feel that something is off. She’s more than pretty enough, and seems to have a personality suited for it… but…” Nann hummed as she studied me.

“So… you’re not doubting my affection for her, but how I could possibly fall for someone like her in the first place…?” I asked Nann, trying to understand where she was going with this.

Nasba shook her head. “I don’t agree Nann. Vim probably just likes something special or unique about her. Maybe she laughs in a certain way, or has an outlook on some moral quandary that he prefers. You’re forgetting this is Vim we’re talking about. He’s more simple than people think,” Nasba gave her own opinion to the mix.

I glared at the duck, and hated how right she likely was. I mean it was probably more than just one or two little things, but…

Well…

“Vim.”

I blinked and nodded to the Weaver. Nann sat forward a little, clasping her hands on her lap as she frowned at me. “If she hadn’t fallen for you. If you hadn’t allowed it. Where would she have ended up?” she asked me.

Gripping a knee I nodded. “I believe she would have either ended up alone or possibly at one of the more religious convents. In the beginning I had suspected Telmik, but today I’d say more than likely the Crypt,” I gave her the honest answer.

“Alone because she has no choice…?” Nann verified.

I nodded slowly.

Nann sighed and sat back up straight, tapping her thumb as she did. “Too gentle for those like Lilly to welcome her. Too forceful for those in Lumen. A precarious situation,” she concluded.

I nodded again. “Yes. Her predator side scares those unable to ignore it. Yet although a predator she’d not be happy living alongside those like Lilly. Even if she could, and would be accepted by them all the same, Renn would eventually feel uncomfortable there. She neither possesses the hatred for humans, or our own kind, that those like Lilly thrive upon. It would inevitably result in discord,” I explained.

“I’d be okay with her here. Though I’d worry she’d eventually fall for a human. I think she’d be the type to take her own life or wither away once her mate dies,” Nasba said gently.

Nann nodded. “She would be. When I told her of my husband she had grown forlorn. She had nearly cried for me. She’s likely already suffered similar losses, and would not likely survive another,” the Weaver agreed.

I wanted to sigh, since they were only verifying what I had already known and assumed. Yet I kept my thoughts from being heard or seen, as the two women pondered in silence for a moment.

It was kind of them to worry for Renn. But I was a little worried of the conclusion they might reach at the end of this little conversation.

“Yet it’s inevitable, isn’t it Nann…? There used to be many like her. Like Merit. They’re all gone now,” Nasba said.

“Yes. It is. But they had perished with their fellows. Merit when she goes will at least be able to remember the many centuries with her friends. Renn may very well be one of the last in her position. She will live her long life, possibly as long as ours… even to the point of outliving us, and only end up dying alone. Without ever even having known the community and family we’ve all known and remember. We all die alone at the end, but we remember the times where we weren’t. Will she be able to do the same?” Nann said with her strange wisdom.

“She’s not so pitiful, Nann. She’s had friends and family. And she has the Society now... as small and fractured as it is. Even the ones who she is disappointed in or hates, she can still be cordial with them. Herra had voted to banish her, yet she still sees her as a friend,” I said.

The bird smiled gently at me, and I noted the pitiful look in her eyes. “Vim… I love you dearly, but you really do not have the right to say such a thing. We are not like you. We only pretend to be strong, we’re not truly so,” Nann said.

Hesitating, I squeezed the knee I held and narrowed my eyes. “You’re saying I’ve misunderstood the woman I’ve been traveling with for several years. One who is an open book, mind you. She is incapable of hiding a single emotion, and not just because of her tails or ears,” I said.

“Vim… I’m sorry but you’re wrong. Didn’t you hear what Nann said? She had almost wept upon hearing of her story. I had seen it too. We all had. She’s far more fragile than you seem to think. Where’d you even get the idea that she was strong?” Nasba was now also staring at me with pity.

Glancing between the two women, who I’ve known nearly since I’d joined the Society, I felt my mind go numb.

“I’m not saying she’s not affected or emotional… But to say she’s teetering on the edge of shattering is a stretch don’t you think?” I asked.

Really… they were talking as if she was about to break completely. Like Tosh or the many others!

It wasn’t an impossibility. I admitted that. I saw it often enough. But Renn…? That bubbly girl? She laughed as much as she wept. She got angry. She got excited. She was full of curiosity and questions and life. Even after Lumen, beaten and broken, banished and betrayed by those she had become friends with… she had wept, but she had continued onward. She had stayed strong. She fell. Then got back up.

I've been on guard against it. I've been watching for signs. It was why I so willingly gave in concerning those pirates... I had hoped her helping them would have given her a sense of relief and surety. And it had. She had felt better after saving them.

Yet she wouldn't have even cared for them, or noticed their plight, had she been like Tosh. Those who broke like that became numb. Uncaring. Heartless.

Renn was emotional, sure, but not fragile in that sense. She was anything but numb.

“Do you think he doesn’t realize he’s the reason, or is this his way of trying to avoid the obvious?” Nasba asked her mother-in-law.

“I think it’s a combination. But it’s also likely that he hasn’t genuinely noticed. Look how long it took him to notice Merit’s feelings,” Nann back to her.

Clenching my jaw, I glared at the two who were speaking softly. As if afraid the woman in question could hear them, even through her deep slumber. I could hear her snores even now. Thank goodness she still slept.

“I’m not obtuse. I’ve been worrying about it too. I have done my best to make sure she was fine. She's not the first soul I've had to worry about. She's emotional, but not broken. How many people like her do you think I’ve traveled with? That I’ve dealt with over the years? She’s hurt. Her heart is swollen. But she’s not in danger of breaking or being lost to us,” I argued.

The two of them glanced at me with rather obvious looks of disappointment.

“Really Vim… the fact you can’t see what we noticed in a few words and hours with her is very concerning,” Nasba said.

Nann nodded. “Before I sat down I had been planning all the ways I was going to tease him. Now I simply want to berate him,” she said with a sigh.

They were being completely serious!

They completely believed that Renn was on the precipice of losing all hope and will. That cat? That smirking, adorable, lovable woman who found such joy in tiny little things like drinks and combs?

Yes she had gotten emotional last night. She always did when we first arrived somewhere, or left. Yet always without fail she got better. A few hours later, half the time, she returned to her happy upbeat self.

She wept. Then she laughed. And did so again and again. Someone about to break into a million pieces wasn’t able to become so vibrant and happy so easily. Such depression rarely allowed such joy.

Renn wasn’t about to shatter. She wasn’t going to break like Tosh and all the rest. They had to be wrong.

There was no way these two weren’t just trying to tease me. There was no way they were being serious.

There was…

They…

The Weaver softly smiled at me, and nodded. “Vim… if you died right now, she’d break,” she then said.

My throat tightened, and I felt my right knee get dislocated from my intense grip.

I ignored the pain of muscles and tendons being snapped and torn as I kept on squeezing. Half a moment later, the kneecap itself snapped in two. “Impossible…” I whispered.

“Did he just break his kneecap?” Nasba asked softly.

“I believe he did,” Nann said, but I didn’t stop squeezing.

My eyes blurred as I tried to argue with them. It had to be obvious. It should be easy.

Renn would not lose all hope if I died. There was no way.

She’d weep. I could see her weeping for days. Becoming forlorn, sure.

But…

To give up completely?

Surely not. She had so much she wanted to do. She wanted to meet everyone. See so many things. Help people.

I had just… just asked her… not too long ago…

She had laughed and kissed me for crying out loud and…

I closed my eyes and sighed as I realized the truth.

“And there it is,” Nann said gently.

Gulping, I nodded. “She’s made me her anchor,” I gave in and admitted it… aloud… and to myself.

“An apt description,” the Weaver said.

“Should… should I praise him for noticing?” Nasba asked.

“We should. Vim’s ability to face the impossible and accept even what he doesn’t believe in is one of his better traits,” Nann said.

“Good job Vim. I’m proud of you,” Nasba then teased me.

I shook my head, ignoring her small giggle. “I should not have allowed this to have happened,” I said.

“No. You shouldn’t have. But the fact you think it’s a bad thing is rather sad,” Nann said.

“It is a bad thing. It’s terrible,” I said as I glared at the Weaver.

“How so, Vim?” she asked back.

“Yeah… Unless you don’t actually care for her. Then it is. But even if so, like Merit, she’ll get over it. Someday, surely,” Nasba said.

Releasing my knee, I ignored the tingly sensation as the muscles and tendons moved under my skin. They re-attached and re-grew as I took a small breath. The bone itself had started to heal before I had even let it go.

What do I do? There was nothing… fundamentally wrong with Renn using me as the foundation of her own life. It wasn’t like I was in danger of dying or being lost to her. And it wasn’t like everyone else didn’t do similar things, in their own way. Most of those that we lose are because they lost their own anchors. Their families. Their homes. Their nations or religions. They died not from wounds or time, but heartbreak.

People faded away when they lost everything they loved and valued. This was nothing new. Humans did. Non-humans did it. Even basic animals did it too.

Renn was no different than the thousands of others.

Yet at the same time she was.

Because I was the thing she cherished.

But…

“Have… have you ever had someone like her Vim?” Nann asked me gently.

I blinked, and memories flooded through me. “A few,” I admitted. But never to this degree. Not like this. Those I thought of that had cherished me to such a degree, that had depended on me so deeply, had not made me their only anchor. They had others. Other family. Other friends. Other duties and dreams. I wasn't the only thing in their heart.

They had lingered next to me long enough to stand on their own feet, and then continued on their paths alone. Without me. A few had returned, at the later years of their lives... but only to say goodbye, or to endure their final moments as they defied their fates.

Renn although had many attachments... were any of them strong enough to separate herself from me? Was Lamp and her people enough? Those pirates? The few friends she has made along the way?

I couldn't see them being enough for her. Especially so in the long run.

“I find it hard to believe. Are you telling me in your thousands of years you’ve really never had anyone grow close to you, to cherish you, like her?” Nasba asked with an eyebrow raised.

“None that didn’t grow distant on their own after a bit. Like Merit,” I said as I continued searching my memories for another.

“And… why are we not simply assuming she’ll do the same? Is it because we can’t think of anyone or anywhere she’d change her attachment to?” Nasba asked the two of us.

Nann nodded. “It’s a major factor, yes. Are there really no other predators or even prey that she could become family with Vim?” Nann asked.

“I don’t know. She could to a degree, I guess… she even seems to find women more interesting than men, but that might just be because of how deeply she treasures friendship and stuff. Landi and Renn got along well, and I could see her sticking around with her… but I wouldn’t be surprised to return a few years later and find one of them dead, or Renn missing,” I said honestly.

“Honestly I don’t see the issue. Just keep her around, Vim. Not only would it be amusing for the rest of us, it’d probably do you good. Who knows maybe you’ll have children or something,” Nasba said as she smiled and nodded, happy at the idea.

My steady heart thumped like normal, but I felt as if it had just missed a beat.

Children.

Nasba went to giggling, and I glared at her. She had likely noticed my moment of pure terror at the idea.

“Can… can you even have children, Vim?” Nann then asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. I’d never had any, and although it’s not like I’ve ever actually tried…

Well…

“There’s no way it can’t have happened at least once or twice. Even if on accident,” Nasba said.

I frowned and shook my head. “As far as I’m aware, no. Not a single one. But it’s not too surprising, I’m an extra step separated from all of you. It’s not as simple as a non-human and human mixing,” I said. And even for them it wasn’t easy sometimes.

“Funny since you look so human,” Nann said.

It was. But it was the truth. I may look like everyone else. Like the most average human to exist… but deep down… deeper than anyone’s eyes can see, I was the farthest thing from them.

My parents had made sure of that.

“Still… that’s funny. I’ve never actually considered why you’ve never had children. That tells you what kind of man you are Vim, where even I don’t find it weird you don’t have any. You’re that boring of a man,” Nasba teased me.

“Have you never tried Vim?” Nann asked, ignoring Nasba.

“No. Not intentionally,” I said as I thought of the few women that I’d stayed with for extended periods of time. There was shockingly fewer than I thought there had been as I ran through my memories. Few enough to make me realize I’d been neglecting the most basic need of a sentient creature, but enough to tell me that I likely was either infertile or unable to bear children with humans and non-humans alike.

“He just thought of all his past lovers, didn’t he?” Nasba asked.

“Hm. Moments like this make me wish I had been born a Saint. The grief would have been worth seeing all those embarrassing memories,” Nann said with a smile.

“Oh shut up… How’d we go from you two teasing me about being in a relationship to this? This is depressing,” I said as I sat back a little. The very solid chunk of stone I sat on made an odd noise as I did.

Nann smirked as her daughter-in-law giggled at me. But I shook my head and sighed. This wasn’t funny.

“Honestly it’s not depressing. Other than saying aloud the fact that our kind are literally going extinct, of course. Other than that fact, admitting that you’ve found someone to cherish and that she’s such a kindhearted soul is far from depressing, Vim,” Nann said.

“We’ve known about our inevitable end forever. I’m glad in these final moments we still have things to smile and be happy about,” Nasba added.

“At my expense,” I argued.

“Oh do not worry. We’ll tease Renn plenty once we can,” Nann said.

Good luck. She’ll enjoy every moment of it.

“Usually you guys never have any requests for me. So I usually like visiting. Now I don’t ever want to come back,” I said to them.

The two laughed at me, and Nasba’s feathers danced in the air. Going up and down, and kicking up a little dust in the process.

Calming down a little, I decided to just… put aside the stress-inducing fact that they were likely right. Renn was only still able to be happy because of me… and there was a chance she’d not be able to find anywhere or anyone else because of it. And I, being the absolutely failure of a man I was, would not be able to do anything to help her avoid the inevitable heartbreak that would come because of it.

I could love her. I admitted I did, at least to myself. To her. I could cherish her. I could enjoy her being with me. I'd not be bothered if she spent the next thousand years at my side.

But could I actually be who she needs me to be?

What will I do when she wants me to be the husband? What will I do when I can’t reciprocate the level of love she so desperately wanted to share?

After all… eventually I’d have to put the Society before her. It was inevitable.

Would her heart survive the moment I abandoned her to save those she despised? Those who banished her? Those who didn’t deserve it?

Would mine?

Time would tell.

“As amused that I am about this, Vim… please do not stress over it. We are making simple assumptions. Give me time. Before you leave I’ll find out the truth for you,” Nann offered gentle words of encouragement.

Nasba nodded quickly. “Yeah. We’ll find out for you Vim. Maybe we’re just seeing what we want to, because it’s funny… and gives us hope,” she added.

I scoffed at the two, who somehow seemed genuine in their teasing.

“Who knows? Maybe we’re not seeing the extent of it, too,” Nann then said with a smirk.

“That’s what scares me,” I whispered.