Line of Ends

It isn't a tale so hard to tell, and yet, it is a tale so unbearably rough to listen to. It starts akin to a tragedy, finding oneself burdened but somehow... you don't feel what that burden should be. Because even a burden can be joyful! In a time when most would think something like this couldn't happen, it still does. Abandonment. An infant alone in the streets, wailing for the care that should be provided, and yet no one comes. No one wants the poor little baby, because no one desires to take on that burden, despite that their lives could change forever, for good or for ill. Perhaps even both? That is, of course, until the old one came.

For him, it is a day like any other. He'd had to go into hiding long ago to meld with the coming world. For his life to stay intact, there was no way for him to stay in the form he held dearest. And so, human form he had retained, for hundreds, nay, almost thousands of years now! And so, here he was. A man with back-length auburn hair, and deep silver eyes. Unusual in the times, but the only remnant of the truth behind his form. He had been walking to work, which was something that he had come to appreciate since the long-ago days of simply hoarding over the gold that had been tributed to him by the humans. And that was when he had heard the cry... the soft wailing in the distance that most ignored, or could not even hear because they were just too busy. All happy stories that could have been, ended by their cavalier nonchalance. But not him. The old one remembered time immemorial, when mothers only abandoned infants when they died, or to rescue them from a fate worse than death. When the only abandonment, was being given to a dragon who could care for you, and perhaps give you a life worth living.

And so, the tiny thing came under his care. After all, it wasn't like he hadn't cared for infants before. Although it was different in this form. It had been so long since he had even come close to touching the soft, supple skin of a tiny infant, needing care and changing and feeding. And feeding she certainly did need, because her face was red, her tears were hot, cheeks flooded and messy. She had been here for nearly two hours, he had to surmise. And that was much, much too long for any youngling to be out in the weather. It still wasn't cold enough that she would have frozen, but her body was still too chilly for his liking. And so, without second thought, into the large law firm he went. He had an assistant that could help him with this and had been accumulating vacation time (what a concept, a vacation!) for quite a while now. So, he could leave the baby with the assistant and quickly rush to the boss to ask to use some of the vacation time starting now, in order to get this affair... in order! It was resolved within minutes, because of course the boss trusted one of his best employees implicitly, and so he returned to his assistant, retrieved the baby and all of the things from his office he would need for his small vacation. And then he was gone, back to the rather large home that he had managed to acquire. It wasn't anything fancy, not a manor but a rather large townhouse that he hired a maid to clean every 2nd Wednesday of the month. He picked up after himself and kept the place as orderly as possible until the maid came to clean. All of that was about to change with the new arrival. He had taken the time to stop and get baby supplies, asking for any help necessary, even as the employees in the store doted and fawned over the poor infant, who STILL needed to be fed. Darn these stores, couldn't they just make the formula in house after he paid for it so that he could take care of the poor thing?

But now the world was starting to settle down around them as he changed her, and her temper began to slowly recede, and then made the bottle per the directions on the packaging (not too hot, not too cold) and started to feed her. Finally, finally she was calm. Eating as fast as her tiny little mouth would suckle on the nipple of the bottle, and he could only give a fond half-smile, enjoying a form of care he had not given in centuries. Something about the goodbyes had always gotten to him in the end.... but he remembered this. He remembered and would both love and regret every moment. Because he also remembered how much he hated goodbyes. It was already bringing tears to eyes that had not formed such crystalline beads in the same number of centuries since the last infant had grown to say goodbye.

Time. A very fickle thing, she is.