The breath of the Goddess has descended upon the city, reminding it of her provenance, and of the debt it owes. I began to sublime in sympathy, exhaling thick clouds of vapor and smoke. I suppose less charitable people might refer to that as "smog," but I think can trust you to be more understanding, yes? Yes.

The eggs outsite the Goop Factory have all either hatched or been snatched. The larva are nowhere to be found. There were a few suspicious creatures lingering about the empty egg sheathes, but shooing away anything taller than thirty feet is always daunting, no matter how divine you are. I continued to sublime.

The cloud came in the door. I'm reminded of how once a violent windstorm chased the lost thing out of the sky until it crawled along the ground. It tripped the motion detectors and the glass doors swung open. The cloud ambled in, begged us to feed it.