Columbia
The sky above.
The goddess looked down at her subjects, day in and day out, all day, every day. She loved every one of her worshippers dearly, taking special care to take care of them at night, work out each and every one of their worries, and show them a good time. It was exhausting work, but it felt good. It was rewarding, and she got to see her people happy, guiding then with a loving hand, and nudging them in the proper direction.
Of course, she'd noticed the attack as well. A rising fury rose within her, one that her loyal subjects could feel as a quiet voice in their subconciousness, rising them to action, pushing for a counter attack. She gave particular attention to the young congresswoman who had so quickly responded-perhaps convinently, even. She focused her mind on her, and Serralata from the warm, familar embrace of her goddess fully envelop her mind, unable to penetrate, but surrounding her and filling every one of the cracks that her trauma and rage had left within her.
For these moments, she felt whole and complete in a way she'd never felt before moving here. It was as if a mother had wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close to her bosom. And for the moment, this was all that happened.