“Your anger is misguided,” Maat replied calmly. “This isolated moment is not about you. Nor will it ever be.”

She blinked slowly, assessing the Doctor’s ruined form. This was not solely her doing. It was an over exertion on their part. For shame, but now was not the time to worry about such trivial matters. The Doctor, indeed, appeared to be dying, though Maat didn’t seem outwardly concerned.

Obviously, this seemed to be not caring, as Celosia so eloquently put it. Well, there was more profanity, but Maat was indifferent to the scorn. Aren’t you a god?

Yes, surely Celosia of all beings would be a more just and unbiased conveyor of Truth. The one more capable of embodying all Truths both kind and malicious and organizing and maintaining order even when those who curry favor are direct collateral.

It felt silly, even though Maat was certain that they got what they wanted...for better or for worse.

“Feel free to trade places with me if you feel you would be a better fit,” Maat continued, voice still level and monotone. “Otherwise, keep both your ignorant mouths shut.”

Her attention was on the Doctor. They really did look like they had been chewed up and spit out, mumbling words that sounded like bubbles coming out of their mouth. It was pitiful to witness, but very necessary.

“If they need specific care, you are wasting time carrying these stragglers across the sand.” She paused briefly, eyeing them all carefully, almost as if to determine if she would even bother speaking to any of them. “Call it whatever you want, but they most certainly will die in your arms if you maintain your current pace. If you prefer that fate, then I will leave you to your devices. If you would prefer a swifter method, I will offer that to you by merit of your association with them.”

It was probably better to not say she would do it anyway, at least not so bluntly.