Neveras slowly sifted through the portal, still in his cold demeanor as he over heard the yelling from the beast near him. "You are in the presence of the very thing that created you, and you dare bring hostility before him? You would be wise to keep your tongue, lizard." He spoke at Shoshar, "Lest I, myself, remove it." Neveras already planned for Vaul to be one of the very first, so he didn't care how he felt about himself. But if Shoshar wants to be disrespectful to family then he can be on the list as well. As Neveras was in his thoughts, he continued on the path presented to him from the portal. "I don't have all day, I have things to do, so let's hurry this up, Great Angel Thirianna" He spoke out loud, as if a prayer, knowing she would hear him. The portal nor the body of the creator affected him as much as it did the others. The portal was a theatric, just a simple door, that any angel could make... if they had the power. The body... he felt its' presence before the great war, so in its' death, it was still as overwhelming as ever. But none of this mattered to him. He was giving his last respects to everyone until he decided to give everyone one chance, and leave. Neveras was done with the squabbling, disrespect, and forced way of life the spirits had created. He was going to change it.

A lone figure tread carefully through the yellow wasteland, his footprints washing away with the winds as dunes melted and formed. The figure's silhouette moved with the mirages of heat, a massive cloak protected the figure from the blasting winds, shrouded his form, and provided a small oasis of shade from the beating sun. Eventually, the figure stood before the Tower of Broken Dreams. Crossing the threshold of the structure, the man removed his hood, revealing sharp features with forgiving eyes and wind-blown hair; Praeth. Steps echoed through the stairwell as Praeth ascended the tower, step after step. The shy rustle of the cloak rubbing against his worn armor was the only other noise in the desolate area. Slowly, Praeth's speed increased, he understood that he lacked in punctuality, and the missed opportunity to experience conversing with gods would only leave a bitter regret. The tempo of footsteps rose and the bristling of Praeth's broad cloak increased in furiosity, however meekly. Praeth eventually reached the open landing in which a portal stood, a silent but domineering doorway. Praeth understood his objective lay on the other side of the portal, but it was also the only barrier protecting Praeth from the scorning eyes of those who had cast him out and banished him with no small amount of prejudice. In a choice between fight or flight, Praeth simply shrugged, as if shrugging of countless eons of isolation; he strode through the portal confidently, moving between two planes as normally as mounting a horse. Stepping through the portal, disorientation only lasted half a second as Praeth's eyes quickly re-focused, gazing about and appraising his surroundings, Aett. Quickly, his eyes settled on the spirits, despite the beauty of the landscape, they held all of his attention. Quietly he observed his brothers and sisters, awaiting a notification of the mood before he uttered something brash or ignorant. Endless years of silence would know no difference if he held his breath or spoke nonsense in that moment. Pleasantries would have been the only form of speech Praeth would have been able to manage as he gazed upon the only beings that had remained unchanged as he stood among mortals.