Suspension of Disbelief

"So you're telling me, that you think that because I killed that weird thing, on the road back there, that I-- that I'm a God." Petunia spat the word with contempt, wrinkling her nose, pacing back and forth with vigor. Every move she made was an extension of her frustration. "You're saying-- that I--" She turned and faced the woman, Nose wrinkled, brow furrowed. "I, Petunia Mariner, am the direct descendant of-- this figment of your imagination." 

"I'm glad you understand." She smiled. Nearly every elf in the room was staring her dead in the eyes now, glaring, but not a single one moved from their place. Crayg shrank under their gazes, white-hot shame consuming him. "Petunia, please, just calm d--"

"NO!" Petunia turned her Axe on Crayg. He fell backwards to avoid its swing and scrabbled backwards. Finally, the others in the room stirred, standing, pulling weapons from sheaths that had otherwise gone unnoticed. But when the elderly Elven woman raised a hand, they once more sheathed their swords.

"It's horse shit, Crayg! Gods aren't real! This-- is all a fairy tale to get us to do their dirty work for them!!"She gestured around with the blade, spinning wildly. "They just want to cheat us out of our work!! Well-- I won't stand for it. Lets go, Crayg." She turned her back on the crowd, and stormed off towards the exit. She promptly stopped short when she realized that the door had closed behind them. She turned with fury towards the elves, her axe raised.

"Let me out." She commanded, a sour look branded to her face. "before I cut my way out of your stupid prison."

"Miss Petunia," The Elven matriarch responded softly. "How exactly do you know that gods are not real, if you've never seen one?"

"What do you mean-- that's the exact reason!!!" Petunia hissed through her teeth, exasperation clear on her face. "Do you understand how many times I have prayed to them for help? How many times I tried to-- ask for your stupid, arbitrary, no-good divine assistance?"

"Have you considered, Miss petunia," The elven woman's smile was mocking and snide as she spoke. "That every god I've mentioned, thus far-- has been dead?"

Petunia fell silent. Her shoulders slumped, and her fists clenched, and her teeth ground together in her mouth as she glared at the woman with a mix of anger and realization. "Fine." She spat, dropping her axe to the floor with a clatter. "Fine-- you win. If your stupid-- Atlas, is truly real, then-- fine."

"I'll sit here and listen to your-- drabble."

"Please, sit down." The elven woman gestured. Petunia approached, defeated, and slumped to the floor. "I'd like to inform you of what your soul allows you."