In an unfathomably far away world from the Sky Heart Galaxy, a hooded figure garbed in robes forged of slowly gold from head to toe sat cross-legged and closed-eyed while holding a hand-seal that couldn't be formed by mortal or Ascended hands. The surroundings were enveloped in a heavy, tenebrous mist, only the immediate arm-length of space was clear of the gold-robed figure.
"Oh? What are you two up to?" The figure lifted their head as their voice caused the heavens to tremble, sparks of golden light came and went in and out of existence like ignited flames. The language they spoke was not the Mortal Language or the Language of Mysticism, but something else entirely different, on a fundamentally higher level in terms of each spoken syllable and the conveyed meaning of every word.