"But you do acknowledge that creative expression, the act of creating, puts people in touch with something previously unknown, something powerful? Even if that unknown quality is something internal?" She lifted her brows. "Then why not call that divine? It's like--well, like the idea of love at first sight. The concept is illogical until you think of it as an inspiration instead." Mischa paused, something hesitant in her eyes. "Someone I used to know once said that singing--which is what she did--created a connection with something far outside herself. There was a great deal of love in that link, and no small bit of fear, but greater than both was the sensation of completion. Of rightness. I don't think such endeavors are about credit or pricing. I think it's enough to, well, to let mystery have its place in you."
Provided you can avoid its teeth, Mischa added silently. To be in service of the supernatural was one thing, but she thought it'd be quiet a different thing to be so bound to divinity. Personally, Mischa had no wish to trade her arrangement for something more "sacred". Hearing Cam describe trouble at Highway--Wes got shot? Heroin was already staying with Marijuana?--only reinforced her worries.
"Would you ever wish to meet a god?" she asked and immediately regretted it. Coffee was a safer topic. Or Macs. Or--or anything else, really, anything at all. But the question burst onto her tongue, born of somewhere between the thrill of Cam's arm through hers and the unease curdling in her gut.