Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean nor do I profit from writing this story.

Just a short drabble piece, Albel-centric. But what could it all mean?

There were just some things Albel Nox would never understand. For instance, there were some people who were happy when the sun shone. There were some who were happy when it rained. And there was the constant appearance of that Esteed wench every time spring started to bloom in Aquaria. Ever since she graduated from that place she called "high school" (another thing he did not understand, what elevated the building so it would be high?), she visited his planet when the Maidens of Irisa were in bloom. She often claimed she was looking for that maggot Fayt Leingod, and she often asked him or Nel (or sometimes both at the same time) as to whether or not they had seen him. Since the Creator's defeat some six or seven years prior, no one had heard from the blue-haired man or his mother. It was cause for worry, in her mind.

Not that Albel cared what worried her. What Leingod did was his own business, not Albel's and certainly not the Esteed wench's. Why she thought that weak fool would return to Elicoor baffled him as much as it annoyed him, and he kicked at a stray rock, sending anyone nearby hurrying along.

Except for three people, he noted. One happened to be a woman, an older woman, someone who could be his mother. Her blue hair hung to her waist, and she looked worn out. The other two were men, one a blond and the other blue-haired as well. All three were garbed in the current fashions, and the woman had one or two blooms woven into her hair. Albel scowled at them, but they paid him no heed as they walked by him.

At least, so he thought. They had walked a few paces beyond him when one of the men said, "A blessing of Spring for you, Sir Albel. May the Creator smile in good fortune upon you."

The moment he heard that voice, Albel froze, his hackles rising. He knew that voice. It was one he would never forget, not with its icy tones and quiet yet strong declarations of death for any who stood against him.

He whirled around to say something, anything, really but when he looked, there was no one there.

"Dammit," he growled. He knew he heard Luther's voice. He heard it as sure of the gauntlet covering his arm, but where the former Creator had disappeared to, Albel could not say. Perhaps it was time for him to talk to that Esteed wench after all.