Once again, the mortal summoned his God of the Light.
‘What is your wish for this time?’ The God of the Light elbowed out of the crevices of the glaze pieces and then only a flash later was already lounging slumped in the armchair.
‘I would like the ability to create artwork.’ The mortal gazed down at the God of the Light, well used to its lethargy, ‘I want to paint on canvas however I like.’
‘You can paint as you wish even now.’ The God of the Light chuckled and lifted a hand about to conjure up a canvas and the instruments for painting-
‘But that’s not what I want.’ The mortal frowned, ‘I’m terrible at painting. And I hope I can become good at it.’
‘You could get better with some practice,’ the God of the Light hooked a finger, whereupon the mortal took a few steps closer in, seeing the dark hair cascading down the God’s face, the pale greying skin of the holy being, and the amusement that filled the eyes that were deep as the abyss, ‘Would you like to be suddenly gifted with the results that others have practised so much before finally achieved? You appear to have become a little insatiable, dear master. Still, it might not turn out to be a detriment.’
‘Fret not, my dear,’ said the God of the Light, as a hand touched the mortal’s face, warmth radiating from the palm to the skin, ‘I shall satisfy your desire, regardless.”