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Now there was a day when crowds of Immortals came to present themselves before Love. They gathered in Love’s favorite galaxy at the celestial palace where Love held court. And Death came also among them. (A surprise visit.)
And Love said (with feigned heartiness for the siblings avoided conflict as a courtesy to Mother) unto Death,
—Whence comest Thou?—
Then Death answered Love and said,
—From going to and fro in the Earth, and from walking up and down in it.—
And Love said (with hilarious irony) unto Death —Hast Thou considered my pet project on Earth? There is none like it in the universe: LIFE! A perpetual reduplicating device, one that worshipeth Love, and escheweth Entropy? I’ve given Auntie a 4280 mega-annum migraine, eh?—
Then Death answered Love, and said (with tiresome sincerity) —Doth Auntie Enty despise Love for nought? Hast not Thou made a fricking waste-dump of Earth?—
Love sniffed. Love sniffed quite a bit due to all the ambrosia up Their (remember the story … no gender binary for these twins) nose. The audience tittered, a disheveled crew as Immortals go, in various states of undress. You’ve seen paintings, surely, of fleshy males and females lolling on clouds, garland bedecked, attended by naked children who have nothing of innocence about them. Such images are the nearest mortals can come to imagining Love’s palace, metaphor of course and inaccurate, but atmospheric.
As Love said nothing, Death continued in that uneasy way one does when not talking feels awkward. —Mother pities Worldly Life, even as She finds it entertaining. The bipedal milk-drinkers are quite terrified of Her, of Night. They do adore Her eggs and have learned to count by them. In the dark, they tell stories, a thing they invented to overcome despair.—
—And why have Your milk-drinkers invented “despair”?— asked Love, in a provoking tone.
—Ah, it has to do with Death.— Death admitted.
—And You find this … interesting? Worth noting?— Love managed to sound both bored and disgruntled.
Love’s retinue lifted their collective eyebrows, looked side-eye from cloud to cloud, signaled without subtlety the hopeless stupidity of the interloper.
Death was made silent, having to consider this. The surprising truth, Death thought, was that so much walking among mortals had nourished a fondness for them. Death had become more accustomed to their company than to that of Immortals. Mortals were an earnest lot, hot and quick like a spark.
The celestial crowd then laughed outright, the mirthless laugh of ridicule. They turned away, except for one lone, big-bellied demon too drunk for anything more mentally taxing than a grin. He chewed open-mouthed on a honey cake. Flower nymphs tossed candied carnation petals at a river god. A snake spirit writhed amid wine cups, slithered to embrace the sex of a creature who may have been the muse of an obscure stringed instrument she plucked. On Love’s knee sat a bat-winged harpy, loudly sucking her fingers.
Death cleared Their throat. —No wonder Lord Jesus banned Your worship.—