"Once there was a blue cat, who climbed up the water spout", the older robot would start.

"Down came the rain, and washed poor Lapis out!" the younger one would continue.

"Out came the sunshine, and dried up all the rain", the two siblings would then sing in harmony.

"And true blue Lapis climbed up the spout again!" the last line was sung, then a white plush cat with a blue butt patch was tucked in, too.

It'd been well over centuries since the lullaby was sung together last- Yet it remained with the older one always- Regardless of where or when he was- Regardless if he could remember its origins. A tradition Faldorn kept up every single night prior rest, a small song sung to the little plush Lapis. The soft thing had an aura of comfort, of that he'd always been sure, but it was only a year ago he could recall as to why.

Prior remembering, the last memory was of a tedious cycle- Waking up. Being greeted by a neighbour or two. Eating breakfast in bed. Going for a walk around town. Wondering about the dull landscapes seemingly everywhere. Listening to the echoes in the distance- No, scratch that- Faldorn wasn't actually sure what he could or couldn't remember. Even to this day, some were fainter than others- Assuming they were memories to begin with, rather than fabrications of the sort.

The only notion Faldorn was sure about, however, was that one day he would return. He would find their scraps, to give them the burial they truly deserved- Of that he was sure, so sure he swore it to himself as an oath. One he could never, ever, not in a million years, fail- Swearing it on his damned own life.

— END OF DAWN —

---

It flooded back to him, whilst he was in the middle of a flood himself. In that moment, Faldorn, his robotic comrades and enemies-turned-allies were fighting against hellspawn overtaking worlds. Splatters of blood, crashing buildings and screaming innocents everywhere- It all felt too familiar, as if it was an echo of an event before. Something so similar, yet so different, and the robot couldn't put his finger on it- Let alone think about, as he had demons to slay! Why was he thinking about it now? Out of all moments that could've been possible to ponder, he really had to be hit with it right then and there!

The flood was akin to a tsunami.

He wanted to yell, cry, fight and so much more- An incomprehensible amount of feelings washed over him, and there was no shore nearby to swim towards. There were flashes of him- Confident, self-sustaining and a fierce force in battle- He couldn't be taken underwater now! He just couldn't!

The clone wars.

Even a whole can of worms couldn't tame the monster of the seas.

Faldorn screamed loudly as he'd slash with more determination through the enemy, as if he'd gone into a frenzy. His thoughts constantly repeated to climb up the spout- A strong slit and another demon fell. Out came the sunshine, and dried up all the rain- A crossed diagonal and three others bled to death. Down came the rain, and washed it all out- Demonic remnants that'd splat onto the others beneath it, with each new felled spawn.

After many battles fought valiantly, the mortals had taken their victory in the End Of Dawn. Faldorn could sit down with a clear processor, seemingly for the first time in decades. The veteran grabbed his two nearest comrades, Laszlo and Nestor- Then he held out a hand for the third, 4STR0N4UT, whom he hadn't seen in years either until recently- And the Quadrivials were together once again, like it had been before. Faldorn couldn't help but slip in a joke however, apologising for taking so long to actually recognise them. The four of them laughed together as if there was no tomorrow, feeling they could take on anything, echoing the past.

The tsunami would be one hell of a wash to clean up, though at least Faldorn recognised it from then on.

— STRANGERS IN A STRANGE WORLD —

---

There was so much chatter- The last bits of his society- And then it all came down quiet, as he and his two friends found themselves somewhere anew. This planet was something he could never get quite used to- He was futuristic machinery, born to robots with terraforming skills- And yet here, in this medieval land, nothing seemed to closely resemble him whatsoever. The only thing that made their diagrams spike, apparently, was an enemy in the flesh.

The enemy had made it to this planet before they did, apparently. Within the year Faldorn and his two friends arrived, said enemy was spotted by sheer chance- Faldorn didn't understand why it was so important, at the time. With that, Nestor and Laszlo went off to fetch supplies, mumbling something about that extras couldn't ever hurt. They were gone longer than usual, though Faldorn didn't mind, as he was tending to himself back at camp.

Then, suddenly, a loud shot echoed through the area. Approximately a few hundred metres away. The faint sound of birds flying over the skies. For one, singular second, Faldorn recognised instantly that it was Laszlo's sniper rifle- Getting up immediately, he sprinted towards the noise- He didn't care about twigs blocking a quarter of his vision, which reduced his efficiency- He didn't care about scaring away the local fauna, which gave away his position- He didn't care about the soup left boiling at the fire, which could be a hazard.

About a few corners left- The clearing was in sight- A base- No, a castle popping up- And noises of a group battle- Easily more than three.

"STOP!" the robot yelled immediately, nearly crashing onto the path before him, after leaving the forest behind.

There was a second of silence. Then a crash into a building, followed by another in the trees. Why did Nestor and Laszlo had to lie to him about it? Why go off on the premise of 'getting supplies', and instead hunt down some poor guy who clearly didn't want anything to do with you? 

Anger that they hid this from him. Regret visible from their body language. Relief that the innocent knight they'd attacked was still alive, and Faldorn was the only of the trio to immediately check up on him. He'd have apologised for the rash actions of his friends, but for some reason he wasn't allowed to talk to the knight himself, who was apparently called Raptor. And why did his friends have to do their stupid interrogations again?

"Did you recognise him?" Nestor asked, after the entire ordeal was finally over, as if nothing had happened at all.

"Why are you asking this now?" Faldorn retorted, annoyed that he didn't get to have his questions answered. Why, yes, he did seem somewhat familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it- Though if he answered that, it would be one of no satisfaction to his friends, for some reason!

"We did it for you," his friend replied as per usual, with some undertone of disappointment, "but it didn't work, clearly."

"There's always next time!" Laszlo piped in, cheerfully optimistic as per usual, though this time it didn't sound genuine.

"What didn't work?" Faldorn asked, as per usual as well. Why couldn't they be clear with him? Why couldn't they tell him as it was?

"You clearly don't remember, still!" Nestor exclaimed in utter frustration, and the robot skipped ahead to give himself some space.

So, it was one of those moods, Faldorn presumed. He'd had multiple arguments like this before. It'd start with an interrogation. Or a flood of questions, same thing- And it was always 'do you remember this?' or 'do you want to talk about that?' and similar such worries. Why were his friends pushing him to talk about things he'd never experienced?

The first time he met them, was when he was eating his damned breakfast in bed! There was no 'before breakfast this' or 'before moving back home that', what a bunch of nonsense! The robot had always lived on his goddamn own, by himself, and was taken care of by his lovely neighbours! Quite as simple as that, nothing more, nothing less!

Why couldn't they accept that if they kept asking, he'd get so damn annoyed? So annoyed, in fact, that he one time had blacked out his friends. It was that annoying! He'd made it clear, so many times, that he didn't want to talk about it! Because it was unpleasant, for whatever reason! He didn't like interrogations! He didn't like his reality being questioned! He had lived a life, as much as they had, just differently! Why couldn't they accept that?

— A DIFFERENT LIFE —

---

Freshly baked apple fritters from the neighbours- Those were his favourite. Faldorn ensured to take his sweet time, afterwards going for a peaceful walk outside. For all his life, the robot had known nothing but this small and close-knit town in which he was born. The house he lived in, was passed down for generations. By the time he inherited it, no one else was left but him- No wonder it was so empty and devoid, especially the first time he set foot in there- Everything was covered in dust, no such thing as furniture, let alone family pictures- It'd probably been decades since another lived there.

His neighbours came to greet him that day, but they didn't seem remotely happy, even if they recognised him. They stood quietly in the background, as if observing him, once Faldorn creaked open the front door and took a look around. As if they were anticipating something, as if they were expecting him to say something- But if they truly did, they'd have just said it out loud. The robot comfortably put down his mattress that same night, and went to sleep like anyone else within the little village.

Except everyone was woken up from nightly terrors, coming from the house a fresh veteran had moved back into.

The first few weeks were the worst. Faldorn would wake up yelling the entire neighbourhood awake, stomping around as if a behemoth, injuring himself by leaving cracks in the walls. At some point, they couldn't leave him alone anymore, it was too much to bear- That much they knew, for they too had suffered similar losses. And so a routine formed for the robots who cared enough to look after Faldorn- They would switch days making his meals, going on a walk with him, having mindless chatter to not set his mood off, so on and so forth.

It improved after a few years, to the point it all died down. Faldorn stopped having his horrid nightmares, his self-inflicted wounds, his inappropriate screaming at anyone, his waning breakdowns whenever hit by a flashback. It was all gone, as if he'd never dealt with it in the first place. The robot became as healthy as a fruit, starting to help out his fellow neighbours in return, as a thank you for all that they'd done for him- Though some unspoken rules remained.

One was, you could never, ever, not in a million years, mention the past to him. Faldorn didn't like talking about what transpired on the battlefield in the past century, let alone what was before that. The advice was to keep your mouth shut, and treat the robot as any other of the town- May the poor unfortunate robot who accidentally spilled a single squeak next time, be spared from his tantrum.

Two was, you could never, ever, not in a million years, take his plush Lapis from him. Faldorn was extremely attached to it, and if one dared take it away, even temporarily for a quick wash, the robot would get upset beyond measure. No one but him was allowed to care for Lapis, and may the poor unfortunate robot who accidentally lay their eyes on it next time, be spared from his tantrum.

— UNCANNY VALLEY —

---

The ones that'd experience such an outburst next, were four robots, also finally returned home after a long service fulfilled. Faldorn was busy eating his favourite fritters, when the door slammed open, revealing four robots in the hallway. They all excitedly screamed his name, for some reason, and they wanted to come in for a hug. Faldorn, not having anything nearby, instinctively pointed his cutlery at them, as some sort of weapon- Even though he didn't know why. The robot was never violent! He could never, ever, not in a million years, hurt a fly!

"Who are you?!" he yelled at the strangers in his room. "How did you get inside my house?!"

The bulkiest robot of the bunch, clad in white and purple armour, rumbled a laugh so deep, one could practically feel the house shaking. "Well I'm your mother, of course!" he joked in return, as if he was supposed to be familiar with whoever these strangers were.

"I mean it!" Faldorn insisted, his grip tightening on his single metal weapon. "Who are you?!"

"Come on, Fal, it's us! We won! Didn't you hear the news?" another voice perked up in the back, belonging to a thinner, winged robot, with a white and blue colour scheme.

"News of what?" he shot back. What were these folks talking about? What were they even doing here? What did they want with him?

"The war, duh! Have you hit your head or something?" a third voice mentioned, belonging to a robot resembling a lavender astronaut. This one actually pushed through the others, and placed herself on the side of his bed, patting it as if some invitation. "Eat your fritters and we'll go celebrate!"

The robot screamed. Faldorn screamed as loud as he could, as if he wanted everyone to go deaf. The robot screamed and yelled and cursed that whoever these folks were, they were not welcome in his house! They were to leave, for fuck's sake, let him eat his fritters alone and in goddamned peace! Leave! Leave! LEAVE!

It took a long time, but eventually, Faldorn got to know these strangers as friends. The bulky robot was called Caesar, who could make anyone around him feel safe. The winged robot was his younger brother, Nestor, who fussed about everyone like he was their parent. The astronaut robot was Ophiuchus, who loved exploring so much, she left pretty much immediately after she was introduced. Then the last one, was a robot with tan armour and geometric visuals, Laszlo, who was silent but very optimistic and nice to be around!

The plan was to leave this planet, which was dying- Of course, Faldorn didn't think of that himself, it was so obvious in the sad scapes during his commonplace walks- Even after many attempts of restoring it, nothing seemed to work. There were galactical anomalies, wormholes, through those they could leave this rotting place behind and start anew! The prospect excited him, especially because Faldorn would be accompanying his newly-made friends, minus Ophiuchus of course, as she'd left already. Where they'd end up, they didn't know- As long as it was together, it would all be alright!

In the blink of an eye, Faldorn, Nestor and Laszlo arrived onto a planet unknown, with Caesar nowhere in sight- He'd step foot here any second now!

Any second now!

Any..

Second..

Now?

Faldorn didn't know what to do, when his friend Nestor repeatedly and desperately called for his brother. Regardless, the robot did sympathise with his friend- Something about the agonising echoes was extremely familiar, though Faldorn couldn't quite put his finger on what.

— DISTANT ECHOES —

---

Faldorn was one of the first to volunteer upon the announcement of war. Arriving into camp with barely anything but a lunch packet and a comfort toy, the robot could've easily become scraps- Yet he surprisingly persisted, performing above what was expected from a frail looking system such as his. Becoming part of a platoon like any other, Faldorn got along easiest with another, Caesar, as they were both assigned to be tank units. Admittedly, his friend climbed up the ranks way quicker, possibly due to a stronger sense of pride- Though despite the increasing distance between the two robots, they'd remain comrades.

Once Faldorn had become a sergeant, his group of soldiers would consist of various types- Yet he got along best with a ground unit and a sniper unit. The robot seemed to have a weak spot for the outliers, whether they were beneficial to the conflict didn't matter. However, their metals wouldn't shine until the introduction of an aerial unit.

It turned out he had met them before.

Soon after, the Quadrivials were regarded as one of the elite teams of their robotic species. It consisted, as the name implied, of four elite robots- One ground unit, Ophiuchus- One sniper unit, Laszlo- One aerial unit, Nestor- Last but not least, one tank unit, Faldorn, acting as leader. The squad formed approximately halfway through the wars, after its members proved effective together within their platoon. Rumour goes they'd done each type of mission at least once, but seemed to exceed best with infiltrations and gathering any information on the enemy. This was quite surprising, as the majority of spec ops formed quite early on during the clone wars.

Yet these four persisted, despite their different backgrounds, different classes and different tactics. It was noted that the general they answered to, was the older brother of Nestor. The five would go through thick and thin together, as if they were the most tight-knit comradeship that persisted throughout the majority of the war. It never faltered, despite the fact their ranks spread out further- Or despite the fact Faldorn was discharged five years prior the end.

It occurred for trivial matters at first, when Faldorn started getting scattered- He'd forgotten to bring in a cup of coffee for the general- He'd asked for some initiate's name several times- He'd written down his soldier numerals on his arm- While initially somewhat inconvenient, it didn't negate Faldorn's abilities to perform efficiently.

Then, eventually, it got worse. Faldorn was discharged, the moment he sent a group of potent soldiers to their deaths, by mixing up coordinates. The clone war was nearly at an end, after a century of spilled crimsons and rusted scraps- Any mistake couldn't be afforded in the last critical moments of what would become their history. The soldier sent back to his original town, after he'd packed his few clothings, comfort toy and an audiotape from his closest comrades.

The brigadier wasn't heard of again, until the war had finally ended.

— ITTY BITTY KITTY WITH A BUTT PATCH —

---

His house was once a home. Filled with nought but love, though above all, dozens upon dozens of plushies for the younger one. Faldorn and his parents had it rough, yet they welcomed his sister with as much as they could. Their small settlement was one of connection, too- For when one family celebrated, their neighbours would too. Upon Faldorn's birth, he was gifted plenty of plastic toys, such as animal figurines and swift vehicles- Though upon Arya's birth, she was gifted plenty of soft toys, which would turn out to be the younger's favourite.

Mother created little sown abominations from fabrics so thorn. Father scavenged little buttons for little eyes to be cut in. Brother kept old clothes perhaps for flair, though truly as emergency for a plush repair. The favourite of all by far, was a white plush, somewhat a cat, which once needed a butt patch. His blue shirt that fit no more, was finally up for a true challenge of a chore. Gaining a brand new butt, the itty bitty kitty Lapis was born. And so, the three would look after the youngest one, who loved her plush so.

Whenever Arya proved troublesome to fall asleep, mother read a story. Father turned on the nightlight. Brother sung a lullaby or two. The siblings would come up with the silliest of rhymes, though the favourite of all by far, was one about a true blue Lapis. And so, the family felt love all around, despite the dying planet they'd lived on for generations on end.

Once Faldorn announced he had to leave, trying to save what was wilting, mother shed many a tears. Father gave him the tightest hug of all. And the little sister, sad to see him go- Raising her pinky, she made brother dearest swear that he would return as soon as possible. Once he did, he was given the highest honour- Itty bitty kitty Lapis was placed in his hands, for the plush would look after him- In turn, he could do the same, and by that extent, he would look after their entire family.

Faldorn left on the promise that he leave the spout in the rain, but would climb it up again as soon as the sun came out.

By the time he finally did, they were gone- And so was their home, by then a house- And so was he, by then a goner.

All that was left, was a veteran with his comfort toy.

— HERE AND NOW —

---

"Thinking again?" Nestor greeted him, sitting down and offering him a listening shoulder.

Faldorn only gave a nod in return, appreciative for his comrade. The robot could remember pretty much the grand outlines of his life after the End Of Dawn, yet he still wondered if there was any more. He'd started a journal after the multigalactical events, noting of any thoughts, flashbacks, dreams or other oddities. It'd helped immensely, alongside his friends filling him in on gaps every now and then also- Even if those gaps by now, were rather miniscule, compared to a year ago.

"I don't remember what I did with my old shirt", Faldorn said. "I don't remember if I shred it to pieces repairing Arya's plushes, or I only used it once for Lapis. I don't remember multiple, smaller details as that, still. It leaves me wondering."

"You don't have to remember every single thing," his friend replied gently, "we may be artificial, but even we aren't always efficient."

The veteran sighed loudly, knowing Nestor was more than right. Left alone after a supportive pat, it didn't take long for Faldorn to stand up also, and continue with the rest of his day. They had work to do- A quest, in fact, one that required teaming up with their knightly allies, to take down a dragon in the west. The robot made a mental note to ask about the flying reptiles some time- He'd lived on this medieval planet for about seven years, and he still didn't understand how a small, humanoid lizard, could grow into ginormous sizes that terrifying.

Once the End Of Dawn had finally been beaten, 4STR0N4UT followed the other three veterans to this planet. With new allies and a goal made, there finally was hope to find their true home after so long. With a space-faring ship available, fuel provided by some surprisingly extraterrestrial friends, there was a means to scout the stars and seek out their destination. It would likely take time, yet Faldorn was sure he and his robotic comrades would make the best out of their last years here. Alongside their friends of the Wynthrox's Knight Squad, Faldorn was sure he'd be alright.

At the end of the day, the robot knew, if left in agony too long, pondering about what was left, he wouldn't get anywhere. He could lay hours upon hours wondering about a little detail within his memories, that most wouldn't even regard as important to begin with. He could lay hours upon hours doing nothing, going nowhere further with his existence. If laying hopeless on the ground, after the rain was all dried up by the sun, he surely would never get up the spout again- And that was a promise he wouldn't break- Never, ever, not in a million years, for as long as he lived, as if an oath.