"But my Composer!" A short human-like person proclaimed to a somewhat taller figure. "Throwing this away achieves nothing! At least recycling it to other Composers would give it a better use!"

The "Composer" in question looked down at the numerous, pitiful threads he was ashamed to call his work. "I have no intention of doing so," he fought back verbally, gritting his teeth. "Besides, just look at it, Conductor! I... It doesn't feel like my work."

"You self-sabotage," the Conductor retorted. "It doesn't matter if you think it's your best work or your worst, all this you have tossed away is proof of your boundless power." He knelt to pick one such thread up and twisted it around a bit with his fingers. The thread gently rose in the air and split apart to reveal, from within the hole made in the thread, a colorful and vibrant mountainside, making the Conductor smile.

"Ugh, don't even get me started on that one..." The Composer, however, looked away in embarrassment. "I'm not a composer for children! What was I even thinking!? You can't seriously think this rag has any worth, right?"

The thread joined itself together again as the Conductor looked at his Composer dead in the eyes, nodding. "You made it, therefore there must be a use for it. No exceptions."

The Composer groveled as he paced around the room. "Why did I have to be 'blessed' with making these? Can't they find a better soul for this? I just want someone to find some kid who can also create these stupid threads so they can shout 'eureka' and replace me already!"

The Conductor sighed pitifully. "I am patient with you for a reason, and that's because you're no hassle to us. You truly are worth all the praise we give you."

"Not with all this!" The Composer violently pushed away all the threads around him with his feet, turning around and allowing the Conductor to see his teary eyes. "I'm under constant pressure to be a good Composer! How do I know none of you are just saying I'm doing a good job because you pity me?"

The Conductor finally walked up to the Composer and put both hands on his lower arms, still staring intently at the taller being. "Because you were born with an everlasting gift. Our elders deemed you worthy, and if you were blessed by them, then all that you create now is already fantastic in power. Sure, they may be rough around the edges sometimes, but that's why I am here, too."

And then the Conductor flung his arms open, hugging his Composer as best he could. "And I will never leave your side. Your work inspires me, and I would hate to see it tossed away."

The Composer begins to sob, his wails echoing in the room. "You... truly mean it...?" The taller being's arms shakily rose up to hug the Conductor back.

"Absolutely." The Conductor didn't move from his position, keeping his embrace locked with his Composer's. "And there exist many others who think so, too. This exponentially growing plane of existence has nothing to lose if you give it one sour tale or a million…”

The Composer fell to his knees so that he could better hug his Conductor, and as he did so, he pressed his face against his chest, tears streaming down his face. "Ah... I'm so sorry..."

"We've done this quite a few times now, and I can do it many more," the Conductor replied. "No matter what happens, I'll always tell you the same thing, until you finally understand."

"...and if I don't ever learn?" The Composer cried out in between sobs. "If I keep falling for the same pitfalls?"

"Then I shall also take up the role of your Contineulogist." The Conductor chuckled at the thought. "Someone who will personally shout to you how great you are, every waking hour, ad infinitum."

"Heavens, no..." the Composer meekly replied, ceasing his sobs with some effort. "I already have enough of them as is... being a deity and all."

The Conductor finally let go of his Composer and knelt once again at the pile of threads surrounding them. "Then let us pick up our supposed mistakes," he said, grabbing a handful of them in his hand, "and turn them into masterpieces we can be proud of."