[She takes the wine. The jug half-sinks in the water in front of her, so that Atem can tip it into her mouth without raising herself from the water, her chin so low the ripples lap at it. Her voice echoes inside the jug.]
Days and nights and years and regencies, it's all the same, over and over and over.
[Every year, the same festivals. Every year, performing the same rituals, asking the gods to bless the flood and growing and harvest, knowing the metal bodies of the gods are cold and hollow and false. The same kings, the same living Horus, born and dead and born again from himself. She's a part of the cycle, too. She'll be married to the next king, unless she's already too old by the time her father dies and retires to the priesthood instead, just like what would have happened if she'd been born twenty years earlier, or forty, or sixty.
no subject
[She takes the wine. The jug half-sinks in the water in front of her, so that Atem can tip it into her mouth without raising herself from the water, her chin so low the ripples lap at it. Her voice echoes inside the jug.]
Days and nights and years and regencies, it's all the same, over and over and over.
[Every year, the same festivals. Every year, performing the same rituals, asking the gods to bless the flood and growing and harvest, knowing the metal bodies of the gods are cold and hollow and false. The same kings, the same living Horus, born and dead and born again from himself. She's a part of the cycle, too. She'll be married to the next king, unless she's already too old by the time her father dies and retires to the priesthood instead, just like what would have happened if she'd been born twenty years earlier, or forty, or sixty.
She takes a gulp of wine with a glug.]
I envy you.