They are the ones who bring us together.  We are the ones who keep their memory alive.  Nine obsolete teacups who are not a matching set but fit together. Nine delicate glasses bought by the one in charge.  Together in the kitchen, we sip their tea, but Lauren slurps her hot chocolate and doesn't understand the meaning.

Their stories are within.  They share beautiful pictures beneath their wear.  They entice stories of the past and they entice stories of the present and clutch the memories of the olden days and let their individual story slip and never cool their tea.  This is how they survive.

Let one never slip and shatter, they'd all weep at the loss of a dear friend, each losing a part of himself. 

Remember, remember, remember they say as the pieces get swept up. The story not forgotten.

When we are at a loss and at a point of no hope to continue continuing, when we get separated in this maze of a world,  then, together, we drink from our teacups.  When there is nothing else to drink in this house.  Nine who survived to tell their story.  Nine who remember their purpose and who do not forget their purpose.   Nine whose purpose is to always stay together, forever and ever.