You don’t have much to say. That’s your role: to pop up, advance the plot, and be gone. People are supposed to care more about what you say or do than about you.
Then the time comes. You have your big moment. You put in everything you’ve got. That’s the only thing you can do.
You deliver like no one has delivered before. With your role now played, your god puts you away, and for a while, that’s it. You’ve done all that you could. You delivered, and that was your job. Well done.
Then the skies open, and you’re looking up, not at your god but at a creature similar enough. They take you out and give you some space. They let you say more than you were created for. So you deliver again with everything within you. It’s fun to know that it’s you more than the line. You breathe easier and play, do things you never thought you would before.
And even if you go back, someone else will take you out of the box. Over and over and over again.
