The Gardener and the Grave-Keeper met on the mountain top overlooking the wisest city.
“Good day to you, cousin,” the Gardener said.
The Grave-Keeper did not answer, instead staring out over the valley.
“Someone’s in a bad mood today.”
“Yeah, I am.” The Grave-Keeper continued to look out, their eyes drifting down to the wise city. “The people there have taken to calling me by your name, asking me for things they should not, and celebrating when I give them the exact opposite.”
“Funny,” the Gardener said rubbing her chin. “I too have been called by your name. The people shun me, though, even though I offer them everything they could ever dream of.”
The Grave-Keeper threw up their hands, getting into the driver seat of their not-car. “Sister, if that’s what they call the wisest city, I don’t want to see stupid.”
Before the Gardener could respond, the Grave-Keeper had peeled out into the Cosmos.