Promise is looking for dewdrops. She has just learned to candy them herself - it's not hard, if she does it in her own tree instead of in the field. So she's brushing the droplets into a little wooden cup. They blend together but she can separate them out again later.
And then she says, "I think I can make you a gate now."
"I would prefer to see your mortal world first, to know if I need to connect it to my domain before returning."
She goes out. She comes back. "It's working on it. I'll check it when I'm out foraging."
"I don't know much about what the mortal world is like and don't have any really safe way to find out," muses Promise. "What's your afterlife like?"
"It is an infinite plane divided into two sections by an infinite straight cliff. Newcomers who are judged very unlikely to make trouble for one another are sent to the upper half, everyone else to the lower. Every person is supplied with a residence, where new instantiations of destroyed objects periodically appear. I am pleased with the residential and transit systems, and with the rule I formulated to prevent dust from accumulating on surfaces. My domain has existed for a very long time and there would be a considerable amount of dust if it were allowed to accumulate."
"At the time I implemented that change, it was still possible for people to come to me with complaints, and someone suggested it as a way to separate out a section of the population who would be unlikely to have any complaints to bring. It worked very well for that purpose."
"I did not principally design the system and do not pay attention to the details," she says. "If you would like to learn more, you can travel to my domain when I return."
"The daily activities of residents in my domain do not interest me very much. Do they interest you?"
"I might want to do this before you add more mortals than you may already have to it."
"The inhabitants of your mortal world are unlikely to be woken and sorted very soon after I begin collecting them," she says. "The backlog is large."