"How long has she been at it?" Daven inquired drowsily, waking up from his nap and brushing his red hair out of his eyes.. Before him were two forms. One was another man, tall and of firm build, full of paint strokes. The other was his god, Arella, carefully and slowly molding a massive chunk of clay.

"It'll be fourteen hours, soon." The tall man replied firmly. From the back, Daven couldn't make out any of his features. He could see the man was bald and wearing what appeared to be a plain suit. The first time Arella went this long with Daven around, he made the mistake of asking why she didn't just use her Brush of Truestroke to finish the art piece. She spent the next twenty minutes thoroughly explaining the difference between self rewarding and instant gratification.

"Jeez. I don't know how you stand it." Daven recklessly commented. The tall man turned around to look at Daven, but Daven wasn't sure what with. His face didn't have any features, it was just plain white. As where his hands. After a moment of silence, the tall man turned back around to watch over Arella

"I need a break!" came the smooth, piercing voice of their god. They both immediately stood at attention. "Savnac, fetch me an apple!." The tall man immediately pulled from behind him a perfectly painted apple, and extended his arm to Arella. She swiped the apple from his hand, eagerly biting into it and savoring the painty flavor. "Daven, any news of Tycitia's realm yet?" Daven pulled from his jacket a piece of paper and began reading.

"It is uncertain whether or not-"

"STOP!" She yelled, "Uncertain? WHAT DO YOU MEAN UNCERTAIN?! I asked you to bring me statistics. Do you, or do you not know, without a doubt, how many people are in his major cities?"

Daven clenched one of his fists at the corner of the paper, crumpling it slightly. "Ma'am, he is the God of Shadows. Intelligence gathering against him is more complicated. So, no Ma'am, I do not know without a doubt." Arella fell to her back, sighing.

"Then go find out." She said quietly, as she faded into the ground.

---

As a young Valerian woman worked on her painting, she noticed something in it that was not of her design. Eyes. Eyes of many colors. She stepped back as a face began to fit itself into the eyes, along with a smile. From out of the painting emerged a yellow hand, followed by an arm and eventually the entire figure of a woman with raven black hair.

"Hi!" She exclaimed happily. "Would you mind directing me to the temple?"