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Valhal Tower, Planet Brandish
Everyone who was anyone--from Maker Himself down to tiny Fata--attended Eventide at Valhal Tower. So rarely did they agree to meet en masse, to stand and peer through the vast windows, to look down into the sheer perfection that was Valhal, that the crystalline structure seemed nearly to vibrate with the sheer weight of their presence.
There existed a tale--some say Gai began it, others swear Luni and Sola invented it between them, not that it matters now--that the jewels the warm Brandish sea spit upon the shore, when touched by the light of the triple suns at dusk, could make mortals into gods.
The gods encouraged that, of course, for the amusement of watching the mortals brave the elements as they sipped their drinks and indulged themselves.
They gathered, some staring out into the growing darkness, some spinning idly around a dance floor covered in stars. One group, though, lounged together upon a circle of pale divans, a throng of hangers-on standing anxiously nearby in hope someone would take note of them, see them.
"They're just getting so uppity," Skye's complaint rang out, clear and bell-like, echoing until someone silenced it. "Arrogant and snooty. Why, many of them don't even believe the gods exist anymore!"
There were murmurs of agreement all around and Winna, dressed in an almost sheer gown that seemed to move around her constantly, snapped her fingers, their glasses refilling.
"Well, we could always take them down a peg or two, darlings." Terra ran a hand through her long, brown hair, her smile wicked and fertile.
"Oh! Turn them all into pigs!" The suggestion came from the throng and not a onebothered to see which of the throng of leather-bound boys had suggested it.
Terra shook her head. "Too easy."
"And boring," said Maker, his simple white robe seeming to shimmer, his deep basso commanding attention. Well, it was Maker, after all. "It could be most entertaining if we do things correctly."
The others gathered around, listening to their conversation, joining in as ideas were thrown about, batted back and forth until long after the suns had finally set, the mortals crawling back to their homes, unchanged.
It wasn't until the twin gods called Gemin appeared, two pairs of black eyes dancing with a wicked plan, that they found their amusement set.