She can't see the landscape anymore
It's all painted in her grief
All of her history etched out at her feet
It's all painted in her grief
All of her history etched out at her feet
Letha could feel the radiant love and admiration that Samuel had for the Voice. It poured from every fiber of him as they spoke. She could not help but remember Seren, though, in this moment. The girl was adamant that the Voice was bad, as her mother, another goddess, had instructed her. The Voice wanted to spread the Ascended out over the world, according to Samuel, and the disparity between the gods became slightly clearer to the woman.
Like Amun, he offered to take her to meet the Voice. She nodded. "I would like that very much." She shifted her weight some as he asked his question about having a place to stay. "I stayed briefly with Amun in his studio, but I don't have anything permanent yet."
Letha wondered what kind of upgrades the Voice might give her, in the future. She did not expect anything now, being a newcomer to this world, a new creation of the goddess. She was merely the daughter of crafters, a woman with busy hands and a fear of others expectations--what possibly could she have to offer? "I don't know what my place is in all of this." The thought slipped from her lips before she could contain it, and it felt bitter and misplaced in this moment.
