Wheeling Gull Isle rughagon

a spiritual cog, soulful. the center. she only shrugged her shoulders, iffy. she wasn't being intentionally difficult, it was her nature.
miseria set her jaw stiffly, thinking of having to wake up and adhere to a new routine of prayer. but maybe it wouldn't be so bad. if god could could guide her towards the path she'd strayed from, she'd allow him into her heart like a derelict church. "i'd like that, thank you. can i ask ...? d-does god tell you things?"
did her mother's god tell her things?
did a god burn their family apart like an effigy?