Each second, a thousand times a thousand souls spoke the god’s name. It was Thor’s day, or Thursday, and the Norse deity of lightning swelled with power whenever a person uttered his name.
The day before had been Wednesday, or Wotan’s day, named for the All Father. Buoyed with spoken supplications, Old One-Eye now lounged, fat and happy, upon his nearby perch, absently counting the runes stored in his pouch. Wotan cared not that millions of people voiced the name of Thor just one day after they voiced his, for he knew that, in six short days hence, his coffers would once more fill.
Thor could not bank the power he received and therefore spent it, loosening his bolts upon land and sea, striking at swaying antenna, steadfast building, and leafy tree alike. Pausing in his labors he glanced over at Freya. Her day was Friday, and she was languidly strapping cat to chariot in preparation for spreading fertility and love upon those who dared speak her name.
americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥
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