Regardless of her more humble outward appearance, Noroa still managed to catch the eye of Garen, a human who worked as an architect and construction engineer, and a longtime patron of their business when he still lived in Lusea. After they married, he received a grant to design a new Senate Building in the Republic's capital city of Rogart, and Noroa had moved there with him. During that time, her only communications with the family had been through either the Orb Network or the postal service, and lately, these had become few and far between.
"You have no idea how much I missed you!" Mericlou said, taking Noroa's hands in hers. "Why didn't you tell us that you were coming? And how did you get in the house if there's no one else here?"
"I just counted on Sedriil being to busy to have ever changed the spell code on the door," Noroa said with a warm smile. "And I wanted to surprise you. It looks like it worked."
"Did something happen between you and Garen?" Mericlou said, suddenly realizing that Garen was nowhere to be found.
"I sure hope not," came a different voice -a male voice- from the kitchen.
"Garen?" Mericlou said, approaching the doorway as he appeared. He had changed very little, she noticed, and had, as usual, been busy raiding the contents of the refrigerator. He was still impressively large and wide, with the same rugged unshaven features to match his voice, though he had cut his formerly long and braided black hair into a more conservative style. His square lens glasses still hung lightly across the bridge of his broad nose. He was a severe contrast to Noroa, who, beside him, seemed even more like a younger sister than his wife.
"We're … not having any kind of trouble, are we love?" He placed a hand on Noroa's shoulder. She laughed.
"Well, nothing much has changed," Garen observed, briefly scanning the den. "There's the same jungle of house plants hanging around; your work, Meri? And I see Sedriil's still got his pile of techno-junk in the same place it was before."
"Be nice, dear," Noroa chided, lightly slapping her husband on his pronounced belly. "We're here for Meri's birthday, after all."
"You remembered!" Mericlou said, having almost forgotten it herself in the previous week's madness.
"Don't we always remember?" Noroa said, matter-of-factly. She gestured discreetly to Garen, who had begun to make his way back into the kitchen. "After all, we're the ones who sent you that potted Garushnit flytrap last year."