[ There's a lot of things she could say about her thoughts on this being the real afterlife — of all the ones she's pictured in her lifetime, this is probably not one she either expected or hoped for — but the topic is more sensitive for her than it might be for someone else. She's almost seven thousand years old now, and that's a long damn time to wait only to be disappointed. Honestly, she hadn't coped well at first. Hence all the drinking. And the vomit on Tamamori's shoes. ]

Hell if I know. Maybe someone fucked up my paperwork. [ It's a half-sarcastic and entirely ineloquent answer to the question of "how," but it's honest. She'd never known why she was immortal either. Sure, she calls it a curse, but there's no proof of that. Or some higher power. Or magic. She just... Never died. Until now. ] Doesn't change that I'm stuck here, running errands for Enma.

[ She nods at the little clay figurine. ]

You said something about dreams?