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Stories are how gods are born. They remain as a form of worship. And stories are what kept us alive—albeit in a twilight state, stripped of all our powers, tormented by our memories, feeling ourselves slip away, but still present in stories and dreams.
T
We saw the rise of a new god, enforcing his message of love and peace with a series of wars and purges.
T
Well, it could be worse, I thought. In previous Aspects I had already been a horse, a bridesmaid, a gadfly, a hawk, a snake, and an old woman. I’d even given birth—not an experience I was keen to repeat, but at least I wasn’t entirely new to the concept of gender fluidity.
T
When I first joined Asgard, one of the things that confused me most was all the rules regarding sex. No sex with animals, siblings, demons. No sex with other people’s wives, no sex with Folk of the same sex—honestly, with all those rules, it was hard to imagine anyone having any sex at all. And here it was again in Jumps’s mind—that sense of something forbidden.
T
“Easy for you to say. You’re old,” she said. But she sounded uncertain. “I’ve had plenty of practice,” I said. “Face it, I’ve been everything. What I don’t know about the Worlds could fit inside a hazelnut. I’ve been young and old, a demon and a god, a man, a woman, a bird, a horse, I’ve soared over Bif-rost in falcon-guise, and raised the armies of the dead. I’ve seduced, and been seduced—killed and been killed. And, whatever else I was, I was always fabulous—”
T
I gave an inner howl. Ye gods. I can’t believe you’re doing this. I thought you were my wingman. You’re like the world’s biggest gooseberry. It’s like being trapped in a ménage à trois with someone who doesn’t even want to watch—
T
Trust me. If I’d had a jam tart every time Odin told me that, I’d be the size of Jormungand.
T
