"...I was about to say that yeah we probably don't have this ability within the story, but actually on second thought I'm not sure why we shouldn't? Having a story like this where the villainnesses get to pick when their Chosen One status goes public sounds fascinating."

"Hear, hear."

"Do all the Chosen Ones get to pick, then? And if not, why are we different..."

"...so we could go with 'no, because we're supposed to be choosing our time based partly on narrative significance and the heroines don't know they're in a story', or we could go with 'yes, and it's explicit in the prophecy that at some point the Chosen Ones will have their status revealed to them in a dream or something and will then get to pick when they go all shiny after that'... I'm not sure which I like better, they both have their merits."

"Do you have a Watsonian rationale for the first?"

"We wouldn't hardly be the first story in the world to go a little meta!"

"I think we're already a little meta."

"Far be it from me to turn down an unfair advantage—or the opportunity to influence my narrative significance—but I think I prefer the playing field to be more equal in this particular case, for simplicity's sake. I wouldn't like for us to have the ability to choose when we shine and then have no explanation for why we have that ability when no one else does... ah. Unless, of course, the reason is that we are openly the reincarnations of the three goddesses. Is that an option we have?"

"No," the angel says firmly, "not straightaway, at least."

"'Not straightaway'? Then when, pray tell?"

"When and if it gets figured out or revealed during the plot."

"And we cannot arrange to prompt that revelation? I want to say that sounds hard to enforce but I'm afraid to hear how you plan to enforce it."

"Nah, go ham, I'm just not allowed to hand it to you on a silver platter is all."

"Any luck if I make my case for the narrative merits of including this revelation in the story?"

"Go for it."

"The story of the three goddesses of our world is a story of three people with competing interests and conflicting visions, forced to cooperate in the creation of a world because if they do not, there will be no world. That's interesting, and more interesting still when we reenact that tension between cooperation and conflict as villainesses. If we lift that veil within the story itself, if we are revealed as the incarnations of the goddesses, knowing our own nature and deploying that information to our own ends—what drama! What intrigue! How did it come to be this way? Were the goddesses less benevolent than they wish to seem? Are the villainesses more redeemable than they initially appear? Or, perhaps, are both those things true? I fancy I would very much enjoy a tale that raised those questions, especially if it provided interesting answers."

"Yes, that's excellent," the angel says approvingly, "my bosses will eat it up." 

"The question of how redeemable the villainesses are seems like it might interact interestingly with Naomi being the only one to take "Good Ending," Didyme muses. 

"Oh? How so?"

"It implies my character's redeemability is closer to yours than hers, at least circumstantially within the framework of the story, if she's the only one you can actually redeem."

"See now I want to bribe both of you to take Good Ending but I have no idea what to bribe you with. I just like the idea of the story better, like, the actual hypothetical game that this world is the world of, if it's not—making any statements about which kinds of people are more redeemable than others."

"It would need to be a remarkable bribe."

"I would require a somewhat less remarkable bribe, but like, I don't love any of the remaining flaws..."

"I am concerned that, if I took Good Ending, I would by some means be required to be good."

"I don't thiiiink so, but maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part."