RIN AVEY JULY 2008

When they were younger, they were called ‘the three J’s.’ They would always play together things like dress-up, house, and fantasy games. They played tag, hide and seek, cops and robbers, everything! They were inseparable.

But when Jules’ older brother died, the young man became Crown Prince Jules de Minerva. He had begun his teachings when he turned thirteen and stopped playing with Jill and Joel.

Two years later, Jill was found to house powerful spiritual powers. She begun training to become the kingdom’s priestess when she turned fifteen. She was taken by the Gardiens Royaux and her parents were paid twenty-thousand Metrics.

Now only Joel was left. He had no dreams, he had nothing to aspire to be. On his seventeenth birthday, his parents bought him a cello. With this gift, Joel could work hard and get into the Musiciens Royaux, the special band of musicians that only play for those who were housed in the Royal Castle.

His plan was to join together the three J’s once again for one more day to enjoy each other’s company instead of doing their duties. Of course, Joel knew what they were supposed to do and what they weren’t. It was only a selfish dream for a lonely young man.

But it worked. He had used his newly gifted musical talent to get him into the Musiciens Royaux by the time he turned twenty-six. Once housed in the Royal Castle, he snuck into the priestess’ teaching room to give a note to Jill. He slipped into the Royal Chamber of the Crown Prince to leave a scroll of parchment paper for Jules.

On August 16, 1897, the three J’s were together again. And they were happy to relive what they had so many years ago. Even though it was only a day, only twenty-four hours long, they remembered it the rest of their lives and brought them out of their darkest hours.

On June 19, 1926, Joel died at the age of 55, still playing the old cello his parents and given him a long time ago. Five years later, Jules died on October 28. Jill was left alone in a new world she could not catch up to, forced to do her daily duties exactly how she was taught forty-five years ago.

Jill dies on May 30, 1969 at the age of 98. She never had any children. None of the three J’s had. The fact was that they loved one another so much that they couldn’t even consider taking such a huge leap like having kids. They were attached.

That is what I call an everlasting friendship.