Harold
Beneath the faint light of a few dozen god-stars scattered throughout the endless void, a lone figure slowly made her way. Unlike the gods, with their omniscient vision that could look down upon all creation, this being had only her own eyes to rely upon, and even those provided her only with a dim and hazy impression of the vast expanses before her. Half-blind and not yet fully formed, she could only walk on along the roots, on an aimless and meaningless journey. For months on end she had been roaming, and had arrived nowhere in particular—new stars above would sometimes pop in or wink out of existence, but they held no bearing on her location. For all she knew, she might never get anywhere at all.

But still she marched, for that was her nature. Stubborn, dogged. Unyielding.

With every step she took, thick vines sprouted across the root behind her. First they grew long and thick, and then wide leaves would appear along their length, until finally they bloomed with sweet-smelling red flowers. Such life should never have existed this far out from the realms, but the demigod seemed to bring it forth just by moving, as though she were completely unaware of it. On the flipside, she herself looked half-dead: her whole body was covered in dark robes and a black veil, but for her emaciated hands and the bone-white, entirely expressionless mask that grew from her face. A walking contradiction, an enigma of unknown nature and origin.

No matter how far she trudged on, she never showed any signs of pausing or slowing down. Thus, even slow and directionless as she was, she would have to encounter something *Eventually.* From her perspective, however, there was no way of knowing yet that anything truly existed out there, and that she was not wholly alone in this cold and empty world.
Bruce
Bea was growing quite fond of being a squirrel. In this small, fur-clad form, she ran up and down the world tree in hopes of picking up snippets of divine gossip.

As she scurried along, hopping from branch to branch, she pondered her past life. However as she grew close to the roots, her internal musings were halted before they could become fleshed out and useful. What was that marching below her, bringing forth life where it had no business being?

Curiosity piqued, Bea lept off her branch and plummeted toward the roots. A moment later, she landed on the strange figure's head and unceremoniously slid down her face. She then flopped onto the floor like a soggy pancake.

**"Hello, Ms. Half-Dead-Looking-Thing,"** Bea said, not unkindly. She circled the figure curiously. Not a god, but not fully mortal. Despite the figure's macabre appearance and towering stature, Bea did not seem afraid. She concluded that she had nothing to fear from this mysterious creature. After all, Bea was a goddess and this being was not. 

**"What are you doing?"** She assumed her regular form once she completed a second circle and started to follow alongside the figure. She continued to talk, not giving the other a chance to respond to her question.

**"How are you making plants down here? That's not supposed to happen. Who made you? Where did you come from? You walk a lot. Aren't you tired?"**
Harold
The demigod did not flinch or start when the squirrel suddenly plopped down on her head. She merely stood there, frozen in surprise, until the creature tumbled off her and smacked down on the bark and promptly transformed into an *Entirely different* Creature that was far more vocal but no less confusing. Somehow, the walker could understand the sounds that were coming out of this animal, the complex ideas they meant to convey. After a long moment, she attempted to join them in... *Communication.*

**"I... Am the Unyielding."** For all her intimidating appearance, her voice came out soft and quiet, and heavy with the weight of sadness. **"I do not tire."**

Sure enough, she had not slowed even a little since the squirrel had first arrived. Her only physical acknowledgement of the other's presence was a turn of her head, which brought her emotionless death-mask in line with the mysterious creature's eyeballs. **"You... Ask many questions, small one. Do you wish to know?"** A long moment of silence, and then: **"I was made by the gods, who came from the great World Tree. When I awoke, I was already among these roots... And these vines have continued to follow me since then. Do they not follow you?"** So far as she could tell, the other's footsteps did not cause any stems or flowers to appear, or indeed anything at all. **"How strange."**
Bruce
Bea smiled and continued to skip alongside the Unyielding, her demeanor pleasant and alight with divine warmth. She was unsure of what to think of this creature. The Unyielding seemed... *Pleasant*, contrary to her outward appearance. The demigod didn't seem to recognize her as a goddess, though. How odd.

Bea tilted her head curiously, mulling over what little she knew of the deity who'd created this traveler. After a moment, she spoke again. **"Well *Duh!* We gods make everything. Everyone knows that. I wanna know which one made you. And why would they put you down here? It's mean. There's nothing to do! It's all cold and dark and boring,"** She said.

Bea's star-eyes narrowed momentarily. She willed delicate ferns and thin vines to spring up behind her as she began to mimic the effect the Unyeilding had on the World tree. An attempt at figuring out the demigod's purpose. Bea's trail of ferns grew closely beside the Unyeilding's vines but never encroached on her work.

**"They can follow me if I want them to,"** Bea said, nodding to her trail. She spoke slower now, having calmed down a bit. She glanced at the floor, then back at the Unyielding. Her lips quirked up again in a faint smile as she tried to lighten the mood in response to the Unyeilding's sullen tone. She was incompetent with matters of emotional support but she tried. **"Do you want some jam? It's very good."**