The void was so nice... the sensation of free-fall, the vacancy of space-- but most of all, the darkness.  She felt as if, for once, she had no body-- no hungry form, the heart ticking away like a sick bird's.  The hunger was gone-- not sated momentarily, replaced with a  bloated warmth, no inner ache, no shame nor guilt, nor cringing under the glare or the gods' eyes in the blazing sun.  It was nothing, and in that dark she had felt, if only for a moment, that it didn't matter who she had once been and what she had once done.  It was all the same in the end.<br/><br/>Then she wakes in the dust, the hard-packed ground a fierce reminder that the physical still existed, and was waiting, and would always wait.  Without intending it, a little cry escapes her throat-- whether out of despair or physical pain it's not clear.  She opens her eyes to see the black sun, sets her jaw against the instinctual fear, and clenches her fingers.  She twists her body and forces herself into a crouch.  She doesn't ask questions.  She rarely does.  She checks her weapons, finds her feet, and surveys the land with astounded wonder, dazed even by this meager light.