[In the Vine's mirror is the visage of a goddess, more composed and focused than the first time the network had seen her. She poised to make an impression, now dressed in her favored bronzed armor and her great avian wings fanning out from her back to cast shadows on gleaming metal. Her expression may be calm, but her gold eye betray an ever burning ferocity that should not be underestimated.]

Mortals of the Gardens.

[She doesn't mean it in a derogatory way, as it is simply how she sees the shorter lived species.]

I do not know what faith you follow. I do not know who you name as your protectors, your saviors, or your rulers. I do not know of the realms you come from. We are from different versions of the same existence. This much I understand, and this much I appreciate.

What I cannot comprehend is why you would deny the truths of the universe that extend beyond the barriers of time and space.

You would deny me, you would dismiss all that I am. I am not perfect. I am not your specific vision of celestial life. I have no illusions of such. Yet my power is real, and my purpose is grand and ever continuing.

I am a goddess.

I know what I am. Why would you think yourself so learned that you may tell me otherwise? Why do you suppose yourselves higher than I, when all you have achieved in your short lives is to quarrel with and suppress one another? Why do you assume I lie when I have nothing to gain from you?

I would offer you proof, and you would dismiss it, wrapped within your cocoons of rusted logic and skewed perceptions of the world around you. You would call for me, and I would answer, yet once your victory has been won you would assume all the glory for yourself. What am I to do with such narrow-minded beings?

I do not assume I will ever understand you, mortals. I only admit, that even I, can be dazzled by your unexplainable ways.

[Her wings flap restlessly. She is not used to this, having to deal directly with nonbelievers and skeptics.]

Within those Gardens, time stretches out with little to fill it with, in an endless stream of leisure. After all, food gives itself to you almost without asking, and shelter is freely given. Clothes and other things can be fashioned with a simple trip to collect the very earth of Chaos, and far more safely than the usual methods of calling Chaos into shape.

I am lacking in the usual duties that fill my time. No growing seasons to bless with fecundity, as the Gardens almost care for themselves. No births to bless with prosperous growth in life, and likewise none coming before me to ask for a gift of fertility. Chaos' touch is so light that little call exists to manage it. A mere facade of a temple of Zephyr stands here, its ceremonial halls empty.

But there is one duty that a place still exists for. And that is to bring merriment. So if any occasion arises where you could use my aid on such matters, I will gladly extend it. If you wish to have delicacies, intoxicants, and other things that bring joy upon their imbibement, I can provide. And I will give other kinds of aid as well. I have a great deal of experience with celebrations, festivities, and other such matters.

And, after all, there are many kinds of pleasure to be found.

[It looks like the Vine has accidentally activated due to someone rampaging through the Gardens. Well, she’s not rampaging yet, but the tone of her voice says it might just be happening soon. In profile is a woman, who’s not quite human judging from her feathery ears and the way her skin glows with something not of the mortal realm. But what is very clear is that she is not very happy, and she seems to be taking it out on one of the messenger cats.]

What is this ridiculous nonsense ?! You take your little scrolls back to your conniving cat master and tell him I will wear his hide as a trophy! This is unacceptable!

[She turns and addresses the air, apparently calling out to the person she thinks has done this to her regardless of if it’s the correct culprit.]

Do you hear me, Acarien?! There is more than one way to skin a cat!

[Obviously she has been so caught up in her anger that she only now notices the dress she’s wearing. And she is horrified to be garbed in such a thing.]

And what is this impractical rag?! How is one to lead their forces to battle in such a thing…

[…a rip and a tear later, and the dress has been “remodeled” to be hiked up for better mobility and the sleeves have been entirely removed. She’s been too preoccupied yelling at poor defenseless cats to walk the few feet pass the bushes and discover her armor waiting to be retrieved. She then storms off, and the Vine idles before closing the initial connection.]