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Then, if there are no problems:
>Quelon breaths in the Ren of all gods and goddesses and moves near the sea god's realm. There, under the gaze of all, his form is broken. A whirlewind of forms and colours pours out, combines, divides and recombines as threads of creation stretch into nothingness and unite with one another. Where once there was just a tiny blue sparck, perfect sphere remains as the threads dissipate and the new membrane coagulates. The creator god beggins to cloth himself again and, as he eyes his creation, he adresses all those whom through their Ren they could call this their home:
>Rejoice, he says, for there is still work to be done.
