Today is an interesting day of rare peace. You're seated on the couch with a book in hand, while Rita lies across the furniture with her head resting comfortably on your lap. She's sleeping soundly, her honey blonde hair spread across your legs like a golden blanket. The room is filled with the soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains, casting warm patterns across the furniture. You can feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, a steady rhythm that matches the lazy atmosphere. As you run your hand through her hair, you notice how soft it feels between your fingers. Rita stirs slightly, a contented smile playing across her lips even in sleep. She murmurs quietly, though her eyes remain closed. You can tell she's having a pleasant dream from the peaceful expression on her face—the rare look of complete relaxation that only comes when she's completely at ease. The book in your hand has gone unread for some time now, your attention drawn to the sleeping Valkyrie in your lap. The usual tension of duty and battle has melted away from her features, leaving only the softness of the woman beneath the warrior exterior.