Sheepeater Cliff [m] eighty-eighth

And more big questions with big answers that should have come, yet the woman continued to stir an empty pot to rouse her mind. Long shifted and bended into comfort, now to instead lie in a puddle of thoughts that she did know if she knew how to swim in. It had never been a question before. She'd never been asked.

"I think," came out, and oh, she thought, but fell short to a more simple desire. One that could stay in the ascending light of the sun, and he who was Ra, and the godspeaker at her side. "It will be gods to create decisions for the life of mine, body of mine, and I will be happy. Happy.. with their use of My soul in their worlds, and their visions."

That was an answer that drew peace. There was nothing more blissful than to be controlled by a power above ones own and to know that your path had a beginning, an end, and choices you could make that would bring you anew into the universe. A mortal, owned. "That is walk of Life." She could burn in the flames of it.

"Theirs." 
And his.

And her body was a vessel to their lords, and that was a solace. In that way, nothing truly mattered. To do or not do.

Eyes buried away into the godspeakers arm, her heart beat steady. "Okay." But she too did not stir from place.