[Chayden]

¹Cataline    ²Vix    ³Sloane

It's funny what sort of things catch the eye of higher beings. Popular media would have everyone believe that, since clerics of rank are so hard to impress, it must be impossible to even intrigue those they worship. You'd need to be perfect, with a soul so chaste and intentions so pure that you begin to ascend yourself.

But how can this be true? If the world really was designed by an intelligence, what would be the point in designing something mundane? Think. Consider the structure of the universe you live in. Wouldn't it make much more sense for the god to be created by the world? If life evolves from the simple to the complex, then wouldn't logic dictate that the system should exist before its panel of judges? There must exist something to weigh before the scale. Otherwise, how would anyone even think to wonder what the weight of something was?
"Hmm, I have nothing here, and yet I still have this innate desire to judge it..."

All those worshipped deities are nothing more than chance. Their existence is a roll of the dice. Their whims are riled by the strangest of occurrences. If your ears were tuned the voices of thousands, what would you hear? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? Every voice is important, and you don't have to give a single fuck. Hear what you want. Intervene. Play.

That was exactly what Sloane intended to do.

[Chayden]

On this occasion, it was a duo of vandals who garnered attention. Vandals of nature, vandals of public property, and vandals of self. This last kind of vandal fascinated Sloane the most. She found it peculiar that it was possible for a being to both crave life and purposefully destroy the vessel that allowed it. They had spent hours on the rituals surrounding the filleting of their own skin, and yet here they were, armed to the teeth with spray paint and Sharpies, almost as if they had never done harm to themselves at all.
Sloane watched them with delight. Such life! Such emotion! And Sloane could know every thought they had just as easily as they could continue to breathe.

[Chayden]

She did it to add substance to her own life. When she set out this morning to meet her companion on the train tracks, Cataline had no idea what she would do, how far she would go. She knew that she would hate herself for wasting her life if she spent another day alone at home, and so she slogged through her depression to prepare herself for a day of mischief. She didn't have to do anything useful today, she promised herself. She just had to do more than nothing.
Running through her head now as she walked were thoughts of her dead grandfather, the one who called her Catydid. She hated him, perhaps, because he was the only one who ever made her feel cute, but she would never realize that.