I was sitting in my office typing away. I’d just finished resolving the crises of a world that was demon dominated and had been forced to weather a siege of evil humans as part of its post-evolution tribulations.

It was awful, the horned, scaled, and fur-covered citizens of Lecri were all but wiped out by the hordes of pink, red, brown, yellow, and beige creatures wearing polo shirts and chinos. The “humans” bred like termites and ruined the environment simply by being there. I ended up having to evacuate the survivors and delete the world to protect its neighbors within that branch of the multiverse.

“Ah...What a day. What. A. Day…” I mumbled. Leaning back in my chair and placing my arms behind my head. I looked up at the ceiling and then looked to the side where I’d hung one of those digital picture frame devices. The picture frame alternated between showing the time and rotating through a slideshow of pictures of Me, Margot, Mint, Filomena, and a few nature picture pics from the planets I’d collected.

According to the picture frame it was around 3:15 in the afternoon. It wasn’t quite quitting time but it was getting there. I decided that after resolving the issues of seventy-five thousand worlds I’d earned myself some coffee and something sweet from the breakroom.

I got up and went to the breakroom to do just that and ran into Maci, my office buddy. She was looking kind of glum, or at least I thought she did, the woman was kind of hard to read. This might have been the pitch-black pot calling the kettle black considering that I generally wore the same smirk regardless of whether it was my best day, or my worst day, and I purposefully went around disguising my feelings whenever possible.

However, Ms. Redgrave took it to a whole other level.

She reminded me of a pal of mine. The dude basically wore the same expression regardless of what he was doing or what he was being done to him. It was almost creepy. I’d basically had to swear off playing cards with the guy.

“Hey, what’s shaking bacon?” I said.

“Huh? A little girl? Wait, no...Children wouldn’t be allowed here...Who are you?” said Maci. Looking up. Emerging from whatever unfathomable reverie she’d been preoccupied by.

“...It’s me,” I said. My smile fading a little.

“Ah, greetings, Devourer of Causalities…Might I ask why you’ve decided to take the form of a child this afternoon?” said Maci. Using one of my numerous epithets.

“Er...I was feeling a little young at heart,” I said. Lying shamelessly.

“Interesting...I’m not sure I see the appeal, but perhaps there’s something refreshing about the change in perspective,” said Maci. Tilting her head to the side and joining me in childhood. Her miniature form looking quite adorable despite still wearing Maci’s patented poker face.

“Anyway, why do you look so bummed?” I said quickly changing the subject. Glancing away from the little red-headed girl. Worried what someone might say if they walked in and saw two eleven-year-olds chatting over coffee.

“Ugh, my mother has been riding my sister lately and Darla being Darla, she’s been being a pain my ass because a long time ago some stupid, stupid, person once told her that a trouble shared is a trouble halved, and from then on she always found a way to make her problems my problems…”

“That stupid person was you wasn’t it?” I said. One brow raised because I recognized that rueful tone.

Maci rewarded my sass with a flat, hard, stare.

“Uh...Nevermind. Also, you’re mother’s in this universe? I thought she’d ascended to the higher planes and/or gotten herself killed, and/or reincarnated or something?” I said. Feeling slightly gauche for talking about my friend’s mother in such a fashion, even though I was literally just repeating what Maci herself had told me.

“All true...The old witch still manages to pop in from time to time to check in on Darla and me…” said Maci. Her toneless voice just a tad sour.

“Sounds rough...I guess. What’s happening now?” I said. Not sure what else to say, since I really wasn’t the person to talk when it came to the subject of having, or being a parent.

“Mother wants Darla to settle down and get married…”

“Yikes!... I mean uh,...” I said. Responding from my gut as I imagined the dark goddess marrying anyone and then backpedaling as I realized what I’d said.

“No, no...Yikes is correct...I mean, Darla’s had a few suitors and consorts but I’m pretty sure getting married for real, like in the long term, isn’t something she’s capable of...or interested in.” said Maci. Frowning faintly.

“Er, wait why is your Mother even on your sister’s case...Doesn’t Darla already have kids?”

“Meh, those are mostly adopted kids, proteges that Darla loves like children, and the step-children of her numerous lovers. Annoying little hellions everyone single one of them, but pretty cute for the most part…Mother wants ‘blood’ grandkids, every few thousand years or so she gets paranoid that our family line will end up dying out...” said Maci.

“Wait, mostly, so she’s had a kid that’s hers?”

“Yes, but there’s no way Darla, or I, are letting that woman know about my niece…Plus, that one ended up being born while Darla was playing mortal, so well, you know...she eventually passed as mortals do... ” said Maci. Her gaze was stormy and slightly regretful. A rare flash of emotion that was gone so quickly that I had to playback my memory files to be sure I wasn’t just imagining.

“Ah…,” I said. Making a sympathetic noise, because I’d played mortal once or twice myself and I knew how that went.

Sometimes peaceful, sometimes not, always ending sadly because no matter what, in the end, you were what you were and they were what they were. Unless of course, you were lucky enough or powerful enough to fight your way to a happy ending. A goal that even the most powerful of us tended to fall short of.

“Anyway, mom wants an heir for our bloodline…” said Maci. Taking a sip of coffee, making a small face, and then adding a whole bunch of sugar.

“Alright, I think I’ve heard that old line once or twice...Wait, why is this your problem again?” I said.

“Darla made sure to remind Mother she has two unmarried daughters to pester, when Mother showed up and started this whole tirade…” said Maci. Sounding exhausted and more than a little peeved.

“Oh, sorry about that, bud…” I said.

The red-headed, red-eyed, child shook her head, finished her coffee, and then stood on tiptoe to rinse out her mug at the sink.

“It’s fine...Mother-dearest’s antics only generally only last as long as her attention span does, and despite her age, that’s generally not that long...The test is weathering the storm long enough for something else to catch her eye,” said Maci.