She is a bright maiden, beloved by dawn and a dedicated priestess of water; sublimity and honour incarnate. She is a creature of war, armed with courage and metal, marching into any battle like a beautiful fury of swirling hair and an imposing visage, her succulent lips parted in a battle cry, to protect her worshippers against death and desolation of blood-shed. She hears their prayers and guards their mortal flesh, heals their wounds, for she loves all of her warriors as much as the Sun loves her. And when the clamour of battle calms itself to a murmur and she is no longer needed, she retreats to sit in the placid quieteness under the World Tree, watching the four grand rivers of the Underworld flow by, and under her seat, the River of Healing whispers to her, awaiting her command when she shall need its restoring powers again in the next battle that will surely come, for humanity will always be at war and she will always be needed. She is Zosia, the Goddess of Beauty and the Patroness of Warriors.
nights in surrounded by fairy lights, ancient leather bound books in a language you have never seen before but feels familiar, honey dripping from beeswax, the sound of swords hitting each other, and a deep hatred of biophysics