I've spoken much of the Gods and their nature. The mortality and immortality of the divine. Of the rulers and the living rules. But there is one whose place in the hierarchy is at once the greatest shackle and most freeing key.
...Yeah, I mean Giratina. Seems to always comes back to It, huh? Antithesis, opposition, unreality, the gravity which warps both space and time... and, of course, change. Distortion is many things, a horrifyingly alien force of impossible corruption, and a deeply familiar herald of development and capability. Stability in the unstable, contradictory to all but itself. Like one's reflection seen through a warped mirror, it is right and wrong in equal measure... or perhaps it is some secret fourth shade beyond the gradient of black, white, and grey.
All this to say, Giratina's position and duties are... strange. What little I could get him to spill over tea painted what felt like a dozen different and unrelated pictures. But I likely lack the necessary perspective to witness and comprehend the full scale of the image that was created before me.
To do so is both the desire that drives me ever onwards, and my greatest hubris. Contradictory to all but myself, as it were.
Perhaps, It is more mortal than we know.