She worked normal hours. She carried warriors to Valhalla, repelled Freyjan incursions, delivered barrels of mead to the honored dead. Often I’d come home late from my shitty I.T. job and find her with her feet on the sofa, helmet perched on a floor lamp, eating cereal from one of my bowls.

The first months were awesome and basic. We talked, ate, slept, fooled around. I taught her about brunch. As I fell asleep, she told me stories about the world before humans, about the great forest, the unpolluted seas, the empty blue sky. (via Vol. 1 Brooklyn | Sunday Stories: “Valkyrie”)