An (Alpha Stamen Goddess) arrives to enjoy herself!

Reality is a fickle little thing.

It's defined on an individual basis-- those who tend to try to define it outright are either fools or philosophers. The line between the two is very muddled, blurry.

"Tend to be obnoxious, too. Write that one down."

An older man sat alone in a cozy, quiet wooden house, trying his best to write down a text that would last far beyond his time; he was starting to reach the age where he wanted to make sure he could leave his mark on the world. What he needed was peace and quiet, which his hard work over decades had afforded him-- though, he didn't quite account for trespassers.

He turned the best he could manage in his chair to identify the intruding voice, but couldn't seem to find it.

"Over here, kid." the feminine voice clarified.

The man turned to his desk, watching in shock as a towering figure emerged from the wood with a labored grunt, pushing down on his desk with powerfully built arms. She seemed to give up once her body made it half-way, and reached up to tear warped bark from her face, revealing the head that lay beneath. Flowing, thick silver hair, and piercing eyes of viridian that held the weight of the cosmos behind them. Were he not too old to jump in fear, he would've stumbled back in fright.

"Ahhhh... maybe I should've chosen a more comfortable entrance... but this seems to be the only material in your damned house, so I suppose it'll have to do." she said with frustration evident in her low, husky voice, wiping away further pieces of wood, revealing her heavily built, almost statuesque nude form-- at least, from the waist up.

"Who... are you... a goddess?" he asked, a mixture of awe and terror in his trembling words.

"I thought I've already answered this question." she replied resolutely, raising an eyebrow.

"But... I mean, in a manner of speaking, perhaps, but..."

The woman stared into space for a moment, eyes widening in understanding and shaking her head. "Ah, sorry. I was speaking to you again seven years from now. Yes. I am a Goddess. Though, I just prefer 'Sara', to be clear."

The man stared in awe, quickly scribbling down notes on a fresh piece of parchment; Sara got more comfortable with as much of her body was currently manifested out of his desk. "Ah, a good idea. Your memory isn't quite as clear later down the road it seems... ah, that's S-A-R-A, not S-E-R-A like in seraph." she clarified, watching him scribble and cross things out with mild bemusement.

"As you say, Sara... and I may call you that?" he asked politely, his eyes full of scholarly curiosity.

"I wouldn't tell you my chosen name if I didn't want it spoken." she stated simply, a mild smile forming on her face.

"Where you... born from me?" he questioned, stories of new gods appearing out of the forests having been spread like wildfire in recent times. Tales of gods greeting those who first had faith in their existence, and engaging in intimate acts with their faithful chosen to propagate themselves a lineage.

"Aha... no." she replied, her voice sharp with a sardonic edge. "I'm a bit older than that, I'd say. This new wave of gods in the past few years are younger than me, but you're somewhat on the right track."

"Then... why have you appeared to me?"

"People are chronicling the arrival of all these new gods, and I haven't gotten my own telling!" she exclaimed in an almost bratty tone, crossing her arms over her chest. "All because I showed up to the party earlier than expected... it was only a couple decades, hardly my fault..." she trailed off. "So naturally, I'm a bit frustrated-- both currently and fifty-three years ago, where I'm realizing I'm alone. I'm also hitting a dead end in my memory a thousand years or so from now, so I need to be entirely sure that my existence won't go forgotten."

"You... perceive time differently?" he asked, scribbling even more notes onto parchment.

"Yes. When I come to you again a week from now, this time, don't forget where you put all your written parchment. I'm having a conversation with you right now, in a week, about the exact same things, and I find it irritating." she replied flatly.

"Fascinating..."

"No, irritating," she repeated. "I hate repeating myself."

"Why have you... come to me, then?" he asked, utterly unable to come to a conclusion on where his significance to her lay. "Why am I being chosen for this?"

Sara sighed, a wistful, forlorn look in her eyes. "Because..." she started quietly, leaning in very close to the elderly man. "I owe your mother one, kid."