ARPG MEMORY: Make A Wish

He knows it’s pointless to make a tiny backpack for a wishing weed, who ultimately doesn’t even need them, but Baby can’t help but fret and worry over the prospect of Tiny going out into the world alone without anything to take with them. Obviously, he knows, that wishing weeds are sentient little critters and know how to take care of themselves; they have excellent instincts, and know how to keep themselves safe. But he worries. He can’t help it. Frankly he’d be more worried if Overlord or Lumpybutt wanted to go off on their own; not that he’d worry about them, he’d worry for the state of Midveil itself if he turned them loose.

But this is Tiny. Tiny is just a sweet little baby ball of fluff and good feelings and who has just sprouted tiny little blossoms on the top of their head and it’s so cute that Baby could almost cry. But he knows that he can’t keep them here against their will; it’s their instinct to leave, to migrate. He knows. And he knows that Tiny will be back in a year; they know where home is. But a year is a long time, and Baby knows he’s probably going to break down on day two, as a generous estimate. And also when he gets home. He’ll cry into a cup of tea tonight while trying to eat some leftover spaghetti and things will be sad for awhile. It makes him a little more morose to think about the fact that he won’t have any soft and loving pets to curl up in his lap for comfort, no. He’ll just get home and have to immediately tell Lumpybutt to quit eating the carpet and will then have to fish Overlord out of the kitchen sink. That little toadstool is the reason Baby had his entire garbage disposal uninstalled. Not about to toy with that.

The migration celebration is taking place at Green Acres, so not too far from home. Baby carries Tiny there, in the little teacup that has been Tiny’s little bed since day one, and he tries to not say overwhelmingly-sentimental things to the wishing weed as he walks along. He’s just trying his best to be brave and supportive of his little friend finally going out into the world for the first time. He should be happy for Tiny, he should. But right now he just feels sad, and it makes this all the more harder for him to go through with. All he can do is gently pet the top of Tiny’s head with a finger like he always does, minding their fresh little blossoms, and he’ll softly coo to them every few moments or so. Just making gentle little noises. Not wanting them to get overwhelmed, much like he is right now.

Green Acres is flocked with midveilers from all over the place, all of them with their own little wishing weeds, and most, if not all, of them looking just as emotional on the outside as Baby feels on the inside. He stands there at the front gate to the farm, letting other midveilers pass him by, and he doesn’t know if he should enter just yet. He stares down at the cup in his hands, at the small, soft wishing weed that rests nestled within, and Baby swears he can feel his heart breaking into tiny little pieces. He has to do this, he knows. He has to.

So he takes a deep breath, and walks through the gate.

He makes his way over to the central gathering, where all of the other midveilers are clustered, as well as too many wishing weeds to count. The arborling is hardly aware of the progression of time until it’s actually time to say goodbye. The time he was dreading.

“I guess I’d.. better let you go, huh?” he says, voice crumbling a bit as he tries to keep it low. Baby kneels down to the ground, tilting the teacup just enough to let Tiny hop out. The wishing weed immediately hops into his waiting hands, letting Baby give them one last little nuzzle and kiss goodbye, and they immediately start hopping away to join the other wishing weeds, standing around for a few minutes before picking a direction, and blending into the fluffy crowd.

Baby stands there, holding the empty teacup in one hand, brushing away tears with another, and in a voice so soft, wishes Tiny good luck.