Everything Converging

Memories

As The Keeper trailed her clawed finger down the codex, the song in the background changed once more. It became a smooth, almost jazzy-type song, with a train motif she knew all too well. Her tail curled up behind her as her eyes became distant, listening to the song "Last Train Home" by the Pat Metheny Group. That song gave her plenty of memories, good and bad. It made her think of him, the partner that she used to spend her eternal days with. Back when there were two of them at work with the timelines, when there was laughter and talking and singing. Occasional dancing to rumba and salsa, to ballroom classics and EDM.

Now, all of it was just silent. Empty. Lonely.

Her partner had been named Vault. The Keeper and her Vault, that was the two of them. A dynamic duo ordered by the gods to eternally keep watch over the multiverse. They were to always work diligently, to never let any catastrophes happen that would affect more than one timeline. The Keeper was the more diligent of the two, keeping track of all their notes, codices, books, and other important things to help keep the multiverses from imploding. She was the boring one, to boil it down simply.

Vault, on the other hand, was the fun one. He was the one who would visit the universes to make sure the inhabitants there were all safe and sound, and that there were no multiversal threats lingering inside. Unfortunately, that also meant he was the one who had to alert The Keeper if there was, and being the sensitive angel he was (literally), he was never the one to dispose of a timeline. He would always turn his large eyes to her, pleading silently for her to do the heart-wrenching deed. And, because she loved him so much (and because she was able to steel herself better than he was), she would always do it.

Aside from that soul-crushing part of the job, Vault was a major goofball. He would always make The Keeper laugh, especially if she was having a hard day. He loved to joke and sing and draw and paint; several of his art pieces were still hung up in the small cove he and The Keeper called home. He would let her rest for as long as she needed whenever they were lucky enough to sleep, and sometimes The Keeper would awaken to see him watching the timelines diligently. His expression was always serious as his gaze scanned over the timelines, his resolve to take his job seriously clear as day.

How The Keeper missed his expressions. Everything about him, really.

The Keeper took a picture from her pocket, looking down at it. It was a photo of her and Vault, smiling at an ethereal camera. She looked as she always had, a demon with smoky gray skin, a broken horn, and star-pupiled eyes the color of the cosmos. Her long purple hair flowed behind her, with a few portions styled off in braids. Her black freckles, speckled with red star-shaped ones Vault had loved to kiss, seemed to glow softly from the photo. She always had a tired look to her, even if she smiled and was in a good mood.

Vault, on the other hand, was the most handsome angel The Keeper had ever laid eyes on. He was young, wiry yet strong, a few inches taller than she was. His pale skin was a stark contrast to hers, and bore a few scars here and there from trips into the various universes. Of course, he had on a goofy face as he smiled at the camera, scrunching up his amethyst eyes ever so slightly. His messy black hair, still poking free from the orange headband he always wore, stood out against the backdrop of his massive, white-feathered wings. The both of them were wearing hoodies, with The Keeper's hoodie being the much more massive one. She looked at the picture fondly, smiling sadly to herself.

When "Last Train Home" ended, The Keeper flicked her clawed fingers in the air, making the song restart. It was a melancholy tune, for sure, yet Vault had loved it. He would always play it whenever he was working, making sure to keep it soft so as not to disturb his lover. The Keeper guessed Vault's adoration of the song had stemmed from his love of trains, but she was never able to ask before he died. Now, she would never truly know.

Her tail curled as she remembered what had happened to her partner. The Keeper was checking a different section of timelines, making sure they were doing alright. When she went back to their cove, she found Vault was missing. She searched around for him but couldn't find him. That's when she spotted a timeline threatening to become impossibly snarled with another, which would only serve to doom both. The Keeper untangled them quickly, feeling a tug from one of the timelines. When she peeked into it, she saw Vault was trapped inside, unable to leave the timeline since it was being manipulated by The Keeper. It was crumbling down around him, already trying to reattach to the innocent timeline it was threatening to infect. Panic had filled The Keeper's mind then, as she was worried for her partner and for the impact an infected timeline could have on the cosmos. Vault gave The Keeper a kind look, and even though they couldn't touch, she knew what that expression meant. With a nod, tears streaming down her face, she tore the parasitic timeline away and scrunched it up into a tiny ball. Her hands glowed gently, and in mere moments, both the timeline and Vault were gone forever.

That was the only time The Keeper ever hesitated disposing of a timeline. The atoms from that timeline were still on a shelf by her bed to this day.

Blinking back to the present, The Keeper wiped her damp cheeks, not entirely registering she had been crying while lost in thought. That tended to happen when she thought of Vault. Things were just so lonely without him. At this point, she just wanted someone else to talk to. But the other gods were always off and busy, looking after their own areas of the cosmos. Other demons were torturing poor hapless souls. Even her best friend, Beck, was too busy from being punted from dimension to dimension while bonded to the soul of a man named Diavolo. Beck had mentioned in a letter that Diavolo's punishment was to have infinite deaths, to always switch dimensions whenever he died. She wouldn't be able to visit The Keeper for a long while, if ever again.

The Keeper sighed, going back to observe the timelines. She flicked her eyes across the pages of her codex, checking the numbers of her favorite universes. Something about those universes always drew her to them. Something that felt...reassuring. Familiar. Almost the energy she herself possessed, if that even made sense. Maybe those universes had different versions of her? It was entirely possible. And, going down that path of thinking, it was entirely possible there were other versions of her Vault out there, as well - versions she would never be able to be with. As a new song played ("Come and Get Your Love" by Redbone), The Keeper let it continue, her mind slowly drifting back to her eternal task.