“Sunthe? Are you in there?” came a voice from the door.
Sunthe looked up from her potter’s wheel, where a half-formed lump of clay slowed to a stop. There were extensions on the sculpture that could, if you squinted at it just right, be wings, but otherwise whatever it was was inscrutable. She was the goddess of creation, and she was creating.
Her room was currently in autumn. The trees were turning brilliant shades of red and yellow, and the creek that meandered through the center of her room had piles of leaves on its banks. The air was pleasant, but Sunthe, as always, was eager for winter to arrive.
She could, of course, change her room to winter at any time, but Sunthe felt it was important to do things the proper way. When things didn’t go properly, it gnawed at her.
Sunthe cracked open her door, then, after a moment, looked down. Diza and Dia looked back up at her. “Nobody’s seen you out of your room in three days,” Dia said.
“You missed two different meetings,” Diza added, looking less than amused.
Dia rolled her eyes and continued. “Is everything all right?”
Sunthe blinked. Had it been three days? Really? She remembered sitting down at her wheel… “I s-suppose I was just…” She glanced backwards at the clay, which was wiggling. “I just got, ah, absorbed in my work. I’m sorry to worry you.”
“That’s all right,” Dia said.
“Don’t let it happen again,” Diza grumbled before stalking off down the hallway.
Dia watched him go. “He’s a little cranky today,” she whispered. “I hope your creation goes well.” Then, Dia, too, was gone.
Sunthe sighed. Dia was nice enough, but Diza could be a little intimidating. Still, at least it wasn’t–
“Heeeey! Look who’s out and about! It’s Sunthe! Hi Sunthe!”
–Ithria.