"Your many crimes mount." More water, and she'll run out soon - eventually - but not yet. Endless supply where teasing him is apparently concerned. "Shiva saved his son. You will know Ganesha, his image was adopted by many. Even if they had no idea what it is. He has the head of an elephant, which was given to him in replacement for the one he lost."

She straightens, flicking out the fabric, all its creases, the blue striped linen that's finally starting to show its wear. Dark with being wet, the black ornamentation blending into it. "But judging has nothing to do with it. Your soul knows its own weight and you will contemplate it accordingly. Or so the priests say - " a grimace, brief " - said, at least."