Kidnapped by aliens. That much had been a given; she'd used her own magic to deduce who'd been responsible for their rude deduction from their beloved Earth. (Kidnapped by aliens! It sounded like a bad 1940s pulp, running a page every edition of Weird Tales. Nanshe had half a mind to drape herself half-naked across the arm of the chair and throw her hands in front of her face. Kidnapped! By! Aliens!)
The amusement drifted out of her almost as quickly as whimsy placed it. This was no laughing matter. Although she was too old and too well-versed to believe that humanity just couldn't do without her, she also knew that they were better with her there. It was impossible to be all right with having been pulled away from her widows, her orphans, her poor. She wanted to know why it'd happened at all.
Annabelle seemed to understand quickly who Morpheus really was, and the mention of poppies and wings had her smiling again. In a way, she was very glad that she and her pantheon escaped the remembrance of humanity. There was little for them to know about her, these days. Archaeologists aside.