It was an average day. Balls would fall from the sky, you pick them up, bring them to the Fosterer, he absorbs them, yada yada you get it. But, today, something seemed… off. For the past few weeks, you could see the Fosterer was getting old. All Fostered knew that much. But, today, he… seemed especially weak and tired. His eyes were half-lidded and gazed lazily around, and he’d often close them for a few minutes before sighing and opening them again. Under his eyes were dark circles, which looked bad enough excluding the wrinkles he had. His wings, they didn’t gleam and flutter as much as they usually did… He took notice of your worried staring and, with a soft smile, he spoke in a quiet tone.

“Mm. Good morning, Fostered. Now, shouldn’t you be collecting those balls? Or was there something you had to ask?”

He seemed a bit less snappy than usual, his halo slowly spinning around his head as the gentle breeze blew over it. He fluttered his wings a tad before folding them behind his back, awaiting your response.