5:8 Poopy!

The Rival zeroed in on the First, rushing forward to sling an arm around his old friend's shoulders — and predictably, he dodged, appearing on the other side of the Rival before they could touch. The purple-skinned man did not even deign to look at him, adjusting his conical hat.

The Rival pouted. "Come on, old buddy, old pal. You don't want to catch up with your good friend?" he teased, and the First fixed him with a look. One that once upon a time would have made the Rival cackle with glee, because he knew he was annoying the First by his mere presence. Now it just made him grin.

"You've been busy." The First drawled. "Is that qi I’m sensing? So you’ve been stuck in a cultivation universe, then? How quaint. I have not visited one of those in at least a thousand lifetimes."

The Rival bowed theatrically. "Guilty as charged. I can see you've been your… well… usual self." He didn't need to explain more than that, because quite frankly, no matter what his senses said about the First's power, he was a terrifying being no matter where he was.

"What do you want?" the First asked. "You always want something."

"I'm getting what I want. Annoying you, catching up, that kind of thing," the Rival said with a wink, which was entirely true. Because having known the First for so long in so many different ways, he could learn a lot about what he'd been up to just from proximity. And while he was suspicious of what he felt, the stillness, like a snake waiting in the grass, it was technically not illegal.

"I thought we agreed to non-interference," the First accused, and the Rival shrugged.

"If just talking to you is interfering, then quite frankly I worry more for your mental health than anything else," he said genuinely. “And also for whatever you’re planning that this would legitimately interfere.”

The First scowled. The emotion was quickly wiped away. "As always, you do not need to worry about me."

"That is exactly what somebody that needs to be worried about would say."

They were silent for a moment or two, the Rival turning and looking out over the meeting room at all these Origin deities and their companions. There was Statera, drifting between people, chattering, speaking directly to Licht and S and many others.

It was quite the motley crew, and he said as much. With the space-bird, machine god, and everything else…all they were missing were evil gods, like demon gods or whatever. Did the Dragon count? Sehuyun? He didn’t think so, she was just a baby dragon who got too confused on her instincts. Tragic, but not uncommon.

"It is quite the list of characters," the First agreed, almost reluctantly.

"So what do you see out there?" the Rival asked, because that was something he didn't fully know. Despite sometimes seeming like it, he couldn’t actually read the First’s thoughts, and even if he could wouldn’t want to. His mind was a scary place. "I can tell you what I see." The First didn’t respond verbally, but the Rival knew he was listening. Despite how he complained about it, he always listened.

He was silent for a long moment as he watched all these beings move. The space bird. The chaos butterfly. The myriad additions, hangers-on to these immensely powerful beings who created universes out of nothing, such as the winged woman in the garb of a ruler, who ruled in the beggar god Reilly's stead, if he had their dynamic right.

"I see potential. I see growth, and a thousand different ways to get it right. I see many different beings who arrived at the same conclusion but took vastly different paths to get there. They’re not quite so young anymore, but watching it all from close to the beginning has been refreshing. Quite frankly, kind of inspiring." A part of him wished he could do that. "I'm not sure I have the mind to be an Origin Deity," he admitted.

Because that was the end of it. At the end of the day, he did not think he, or the First for that matter, were Origin Deity material. Perhaps they could become something else. But they were lacking something, and it was not just “authority.”

"I see children," the First said bluntly. "I see a thousand ways to get it right, and each of them only got it partially so because they didn’t know where to aim."

The Rival frowned, opened his mouth to retort, but a new voice cut in, a person that he admittedly had not felt coming, partly because there were so many powerful beings in the room and partly because he was so focused on the First.

"That is quite an interesting stance, young man," the Oshun said, sauntering up with an easy smile and a twinkle in her eye. The Rival glanced at her once and quickly looked away. She was in her element here, Beauty turned up to full blast, looking healthier in the midst of all these people than he'd ever seen her. At least this, whole, version of her. "Would you care to explain what you mean by that?"

"No, you're going to ask him to talk?" the Rival deadpanned. "What a shame. He loves nothing more than the sound of his own voice."

"I was not aware you two were acquainted," the Oshun admitted, eyes flicking from one to the other. The Rival clicked his tongue. Ah. That was what attracted her attention. He was Statera’s plus one, and had gone straight to the First. Of course her curiosity won out.

"Unfortunately," the First replied, bowing smoothly. "First, I believe introductions are in order. My name is the First. And it is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a beautiful lady." He took her offered hand and kissed the back of it, then straightened. The Rival wanted to roll his eyes, but knew that he was just as shameless and it would be hypocritical.

So he rolled his eyes anyway. What a schmutz that man was. The Rival was at least fun about it, that was just cheesy.

The Oshun tittered, smile growing wider. "The pleasure's mine. My name is the Oshun, though I'm sure you heard that when introductions were being made."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful lady," the First said. "Now, to answer your question. It is just a matter of perspective. Compared to other Origin Deities in the multiverse, you are all but children, building with blocks you do not understand. And because of it, you create imperfections. You don't get it quite right. That is how all universes are born, as far as I am aware. I do not question your talent or wisdom — merely why children, comparatively, are tasked with creating universes when they get it wrong."

And that was the danger of the First, right there in a nutshell. It sounded like a perfectly reasonable argument, in many ways, despite how accusatory it came across.

"Oh, but it is imperfections that give us perspective. Without imperfections, the perfect becomes ordinary. And cannot imperfections be beautiful too? Mistakes can end up creating something better. Something closer to what that mistake should have been. It is how we children, and even adults, learn." She replied smoothly.

The Rival turned his attention fully to the Oshun, studying her. She was talking about herself, wasn't she? And her child, Amari Ren. Her mistake had created something beautiful in the little one. He huffed out a small little smile — just an exhale through his nose and a twitch of his lips.

But the Oshun caught it, and her smile dimmed into something a touch sadder.

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"You are correct, and I apologize for my phrasing. I do not think it got my point across the way I intended. Imperfections are fine. In fact, I dare say there is no thing that is perfect, completely and wholly. To strive toward perfection is the point of existence, to constantly better ourselves. However, when it comes to matters of universes, while imperfections are expected, flaws are another matter entirely. Take, for example, a vase." He held up his hand, and a vase appeared above it. Simple, unadorned, made of a green clay.

The Rival rolled his eyes, knowing exactly where he was going with this. "You're talking about kintsugi."

"Yes, Rival, I am. Imperfections can make this vase unique, and in fact more valuable because of it. Handcrafted, is what one might call it. Such a thing is to be admired." As he spoke, little imperfections formed upon it, but just enough to be known it was, as he said, handcrafted yet still a masterwork. "Even if you were to break this vase, which you might call a mistake—" It shattered into many, many pieces. "—it can be fixed. Perhaps made even more unique and beautiful." Lines of gold connected the shattered pieces, bringing it back together until it was a whole vase again, the gold creating veins in the face of the now-fixed vase. "But if from the start the vase is flawed — perhaps a chip near the bottom, the clay incorrectly harvested, too much sand, dried too quickly, too much water, and it cracked at the very start — well. Your best potter knows those are best thrown away." And with that, the vase vanished, leaving the First meeting the Oshun’s eyes expectantly.

"I do believe I see your point. But I think I must disagree with the philosophy behind it. Because as you've said, comparatively to other Origin deities, you are not incorrect. We are children, to some of those old monsters who exist out there. But we cannot know what comes next for us. And if we are the novice potters, our universe is not the pot. They are the workshop. And we fill it with tools and the fruits of our labor as we grow and learn what we need to mold clay."

The First dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Perhaps it is as you say," he agreed amicably.

"And yet, he remains unmoved," the Rival declared dramatically. "The lady has a point, you cynical fool."

"I did concede that she does. There is no need to nitpick, Rival."

"There is always a need to nitpick you. On principle alone. I'd feel wrong if I didn't do it. It’d be like giving you a hug. A genuine hug." He grimaced. "That would just feel icky."

The First paused to consider that. "Yes, I do believe icky is the correct word for that. Please refrain from doing so."

The Oshun laughed. "You two are quite amusing. I think I begin to understand why you, Mr. First, call us children, having known the Rival so long. You are likely of his nature, are you not? So tell me about it, if you would not mind. Things you see that perhaps us children don't."

"Well, first I must ask," the First said. "Your connection with the green-eyed one. Statera Luotian, Balance of All Heavens. Is he keeping tabs on you?"

"First." The Rival sighed and pinched his nose. "Stop trying to be a hero to every damsel."

"I'm not. I'm merely asking the lady a question," the First replied, never taking his eyes off of the Oshun.

"Is that how you see it? That tells me much," the Oshun replied, eyes darkening just slightly. "No, my dear. I owe Them. I owe Them my life, and the life of my workshop, and the life of all of my apprentices therein. I opened the stream of dialogue between us and share it freely, without having been asked. Because I owe Them that much and more, after my deceptions. As you said, mistakes and flaws need to be rectified."

"And the beggar god you are speaking to," the First asked. "What are your thoughts on him?"

The Rival poked his head around the Oshun to see that, indeed, her true body was speaking to Reilly.

"Now, don't go prying too much into a lady's personal life. That too can be seen as a flaw."

All of a sudden, the Rival felt a wave of like for this woman he had been ambivalent about until now. She was being incredibly petty with the whole flaws talk, and he was all for it — as long as it was directed at the First.

Apparently the First agreed, because even he chuckled. "I see I will not be living my flaws and children comments down any time soon. As you say. My apologies. Curiosity gets the better of me sometimes. Now, if you wish to know what I see, why I call you children which, for the record, I do not mean as an insult because children are filled with nothing but potential, I suppose we should begin now."

And the First started to drone on and on, and the Rival had to resist the urge to shoot himself in the face. Gods, how that man loved to hear himself talk. But he did not allow himself to be lulled into a false sense of security by the First’s seemingly relaxed stance. He was waiting for something. They all were, he thought. And he would know it when he felt it or saw it.

*

Morgan glared at the wall of its Hidden Realm, hating everything about its current situation. Because it could not move, could not do anything, until it said six more [Words.]

And yet, it did not want to. That was the last thing it wanted to do. It did not want to create a universe. Making a realm had been bad enough. Making a people had been bad enough. Now the Great One demanded that it finish what it started and make a universe. Morgan scowled deep, eight spidery limbs tapping against the cold, hard ground. Unacceptable. Unacceptable. It would not fall for this.

Or, no. Better yet, it'd just make a universe that was destined to fail after mere moments. It sucked in a deep breath, pushed all its power to the tip of its tongue, connected to the Great One, and said, "Die."

But nothing happened. The Great One Themself refused it, slapping its power down the way one admonishes a child. Morgan could practically see the disappointed look on Their face. Morgan huffed and bristled and rolled its shoulders and scratched its claws on the ground, gnashing its teeth together. That happened every time. Every single time. Because, and it quoted: “Morgan, you're not taking this seriously enough. Do it right.”

It had already said one [Word]. It had helped bind everything together for the Great One’s body. What else did it need? What else did They want from it? The Great One was being impossible.

And to top it off — "Mmm Bah!"

A little figure toddled right beside it, reaching out and grabbing hold of one of its spidery limbs and beaming up at Morgan. It wanted nothing more than to spear the child with its legs, but could not. Not just because the Great One was stopping it, but physically it could not, for some unknown reason, even lash out at the tiny one. Amari Ren, they called it.

"I am the Shadow of the Heavens," it growled out at the annoying, obnoxious little creature. "I am not to be grabbed and climbed upon." It pulled its leg out of the little one's way, but, undaunted, it started to come closer. Forced to move, Morgan stood up and walked around it, far to the other end of the cave.

"No, you're not." An obnoxiously cheery voice, Kei, Reika’s unholy spawn, cheered singsong. "Right now, you're puppy."

"Poopy!" Amari Ren agreed with a clap of their chubby little hands, toddling closer.

Morgan gnashed its teeth together. "You are disturbing me," it said.

"You are disturbed," Kei agreed.

"I may not be able to lash out at the tiny thing over there, but you are not so safe."

"Try it, puppy."

Morgan bristled, legs ready to go, venom and time and space all beginning to warp under its command. Kei braced herself, grin growing wider and almost manic as she prepared for a fight. Instead, Morgan teleported away. Lashing out would be giving the obnoxious fox-girl exactly what she wanted. Even now, it could hear her laughter chasing it.

But it had other things to think about than their obnoxiousness. It locked down space around itself, and time, so it could sit there and look out at the Heavens and wonder. It would not create a universe. But perhaps it could do something else. What else did They need? Connection was one thing, for all the universes to connect and function beneath the glory of the Great One.

From where it sat at the center of the Four Realms, peering past everything, it could see all the universes coming together. Elvira's bone-like spikes providing support for the chaos of Reika's. Alexander's universe pushing energy around. Keilan's pulsing rhythmically. The One World, a shell on the outside protecting them from the Void. And the false dragon's old nest being poured into the gaps between, like water, while the body of the false dragon itself was slowly being remade, condensed and shaped like clay.

It was connected, wasn't it? It was all connected. But it wasn't functioning right. They were still separated. They weren't functioning like a…

[WHOLE]

This time, the word came out fast, and complete, filled with Morgan’s intent and the understanding of the Great One’s power. The connection Morgan had first made took on an entirely new quality, all of those individual systems writhing, a qualitative shift snapping slowly into place. They continued to function as they had bit, but now, with Morgan’s newest word, it could already predict their trajectory. They’d start to function as a whole now, not as merely connected things. Morgan's grin widened. The Heavens themselves seemed to frown — but it had done exactly as it had been asked.

Now there were only five more [Words] to say, and it had a path forward. It just had to say [Words] that would advance the Great One's, well, greatness.

There was a pop beside it of displaced air. "Bah! Poopy!"

Morgan growled as Kei's laughter echoed through its space-and-time locked cave. "That was never going to hold me for long, puppy," she teased, as Amari Ren once again tumbled onto its forepaws.

Morgan looked down at it in disgust, shooing it away like it was something filthy. Because it was. A dilution of the Great One's blood. Not even as pure as Alexander.

And perhaps for the first time in its entire life, it turned to the Heavens and prayed.

Please. Let me kill them both.

It got the distinct sense the Heavens were laughing at it.