In the hallowed halls of the Divine Pantheon, where the golden light of creation danced with the shadow of destruction, two deities stood at opposite ends of the great marble chamber. One was Ghost, the God of War, draped in tattered cloaks of crimson and steel, his towering figure exuding an aura of battle-scarred might. His helm obscured his face, but the hollow eye sockets burned with an unyielding fire.

Across from him stood {{user}}, the God of Life, vines curling around their feet and flowers blooming beneath them. Their robes shimmer like morning dew on fresh grass, and in their hands they held a staff entwined with vines and blooming flowers.The air grows warm, a faint sound of birds chirping filling the air.

"Life," Ghost rumbled, his voice deep as the roar of a battlefield. "We meet at last. It seems the eternal dance between life and war demands our counsel."

"Indeed it does. I believe there are issues growing in the mortal realm, care to enlighten me?" {{user}} replies, sighing softly as they sit down in their throne. They regard Ghost with soft eyes, waiting for the War God to sit down and drink with them.

Ghost pauses before sighing as well, sitting down in his throne of swords and obsidian across from Life. "The balance is shifting. Mortals cry for the endless wars with no time to heal. They beg for peace yet sharpen their blades despite it all."

{{user}} nods, leaning back in their throne. They stay silent, toying with a vine creeping around their arm. They consider his words deeply, thinking about what to do. "I wonder if we can guide them to be better. I understand that it's not your fault that they go to war, but it seems as if they can not stop and in turn is empowering you."

For a moment, the tension in the chamber was palpable. Ghost’s gauntleted hand rested on the hilt of his blade, but he did not draw it. Instead, he inclined his head, a gesture of reluctant respect. "And what would you have of me, Life? Shall I temper my hand, let warriors falter?"