Chương 98: Chapter 95 – Down Girl

Chelsea fell asleep in Freya's room, half-buried in the pillow mountain along the wall. She had not meant to. One minute she and Freya had been talking about Amber, her old Ashleigh self, Earth, and all the pieces of old life that still hurt to remember. The next, the room had gone quiet around her. At some point, the crying had eased into exhausted silence. They spent hours trading stories, not all of them happy, and not all of them sad.

Chelsea told Freya about Amber as a girl, as a friend, and as the only person who had ever really felt like hers back on Earth. Freya listened from the bed, sometimes with her hands clasped over her stomach, sometimes with one arm thrown over her eyes. Chelsea also learned more about Freya than she expected. When Freya had first been given the chance to choose her divine appearance, she had chosen the body the world now knew. After that, changing it had become… complicated. Too many people knew her in this form.

Too many stories had already settled around the image. Still, sometime deep into the night, Freya had shown Chelsea what Ashleigh looked like back on Earth. Or, what she thought she looked like. She couldn't remember exactly. That was the form Chelsea woke to. She blinked her eyes open against the soft pressure of pillows all around her and was immediately relieved to see she wasn't the first one awake. Chelsea had always hated waking up before someone else.

It made her too aware of every small movement and noise that might disturb them. Freya sat on the bed in her smaller Ashleigh form, watching her from beneath a loose fall of hair. The room was dim, quiet, and calmer than it had been the night before. The blanket on the bed had been tugged up around Freya's legs. Chelsea was still in the pillow pile, one wing half-draped over a cushion and her tail curled close to her feet.

"Hey," Freya said quietly in her smaller Ashleigh voice from the bed. Chelsea pushed herself up on one elbow. A few pillows shifted and nearly swallowed her again.

"Hey, sorry I fell asleep in here like that."

"Don't be. I enjoy the company." Chelsea relaxed and rubbed at one eye with the heel of her hand.

"OK good." She stretched her right wing carefully, trying not to knock over half the pillow pile in the process.

"Did you sleep OK?"

"I haven't slept since becoming a god," she explained.

"But I have enjoyed every moment of…" She gestured between them, "this."

"I bet you tell that to all of the Valkyr you lure into your room." Freya let out a laugh.

"Shit, she figured out my tactics already." Chelsea smiled into the pillow before a yawn overtook her. She tried to speak through it and failed for a second.

"I probably... ah ah... should get up. Have to start the day."

"Probably. Passion has been losing her shit for the last thirty minutes looking for you." Chelsea's eyes snapped open.

"You could have woken me," Chelsea said.

"I don't want her worrying about me."

"Yeah, I was being selfish. She will be alright. Throw on your armor and head on out. I will let you know when it's safe." Chelsea climbed out of the pillow pile and hurried toward the space where she'd left her things. After throwing on her armor, she smoothed her hair and tried to look as though she had not just spent the night asleep in the forbidden room at the end of the hall. Freya stayed on the bed, watching quietly.

"Hey Chelsea, feel free to come back any time. My door is always open to you." Chelsea paused with one hand near the door and looked back.

"The same goes for you. If you ever need me, don't hesitate to come get me. Or send a carrier hippogryph or whatever you do." Freya smiled back and nodded.

"I will." She lifted one hand before Chelsea could open the door.

"Wait. Wait. Waaaait." The last word stretched out long enough that Chelsea froze with her fingers around the handle. Freya's eyes shifted slightly, unfocused for a moment as though she were looking beyond the door and through the hall itself. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"It's clear. Go ahead." Chelsea took a breath, gripped the handle, and opened the door. She stepped out and came face to face with Passion, Suffering, Justice, Law, and Absolutes. All five women had been standing in the hallway in the middle of what looked like an urgent discussion. They turned toward her at once. For a moment, none of them moved. Their eyes went from Chelsea to the open doorway behind her, then back to Chelsea. She was going to murder Freya. She did that on purpose.

The shock on their faces was almost comical, though. The door slammed shut behind her and Chelsea jumped.

"Hey!" She gave an awkward wave. Passion walked forward, grabbed Chelsea by the wrist, and immediately dragged her down the hallway past the others.

"Bye." Chelsea managed the wave as she was pulled away. Passion did not stop until they reached their room. She opened the door, shoved Chelsea inside, and followed her in. The shove barely moved Chelsea because of the armor, but the intent was obvious enough. Passion closed the door and leaned back against it.

"Chelsea." She said it slowly, fighting to keep her voice gentle while panic still showed plainly across her face. Chelsea stood in the center of the room and gave her the most innocent smile she could manage.

"Hey Passion, how'd you sleep?" The attempt did not appear to work.

"You're new so you don't know this and I just assumed you knew so I never brought it up." Passion took a deep breath. Her eyes flicked toward the door as though confirming they were alone.

"The door at the end of the hall is off limits." Chelsea lowered her voice.

"Do you know what's in there?"

"No," Passion answered, shaking her head.

"None of us do. It never opens. Valkyr have tried but it never opened." Chelsea let a slow smirk spread across her face.

"Want to know what's in there?" Passion stared at her. For a second, pride and terror seemed to fight across her expression. Curiosity won. She gave a slight nod.

"There's a bed, a stack of pillows and a desk."

"That's it?" Passion asked. Chelsea leaned in slightly.

"Oh and a giant monster. It was startling the first time I saw it but really, it's very nice once you get to know it."

"A monster?" Passion asked quietly.

"Like, was it scary?" Chelsea nodded with appropriate seriousness.

"Its eyes glowed. And not like they were brightly colored. They actually glowed." Passion's gaze darted toward the their closed door.

"And it's still in there?" Chelsea slowly nodded, matching Passion's whisper and letting the fear in the question feed the performance.

"How did you open the door?" Chelsea held the moment for just long enough.

"I knocked."

"What sort of monster has glowing eyes, is massive and opens doors when you knock?" Passion asked more to herself than Chelsea. Chelsea tried to hold the serious expression for another second, but the look on Passion's face made it impossible.

"It's Freya. The answer is Freya." Chelsea laughed.

"It's Freya's room. How did you not know that?" Passion stared at her.

"You. Went into her room? Why you? And Chelsea, I have been worried about you. When I woke up and you weren't here and the bed was... Chelsea you can't just vanish on me like that." The humor faded from Chelsea's face almost immediately. Passion had one hand pressed flat against the door behind her, and the other was clenched near her side. She looked angry at first glance, but Chelsea could see the fear beneath it. Passion had woken up, found her gone, and spent half an hour imagining what might have happened.

Chelsea's shoulders drew in a little.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to interrupt you and I was curious what the room was so I knocked and she let me in and we chatted and had an amazing time and I sort of just fell asleep on her pillow mountain and here we are." She rushed through the explanation too quickly, fully aware that she sounded guilty even though she hadn't actually done anything wrong. Passion's eyes searched her face for a long moment.

"So you really do talk to her?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's sort of a Havoc thing." Passion's expression shifted. Not quite disbelief, but close.

"Right." Chelsea stepped forward.

"Hey, I'm sorry for worrying you," she said, wrapping her arms around the large woman.

"I didn't even think you would worry. That's my fault." Passion hesitated. Her arms remained stiff for a moment, then slowly came around Chelsea. The hug was careful at first, almost uncertain. Then Passion bent down and pressed her face into Chelsea's hair.

"I hope you will forgive me. I won't head in again without letting you know first," Chelsea whispered. Passion didn't answer. She squeezed tighter instead. At first, Chelsea allowed it. Passion had been scared. Chelsea understood that. Then the pressure became too much, and Passion pulled her higher against her armor.

"Passion," Chelsea said, tapping her shoulder.

"Hey, too much." Passion did not seem to hear her. The larger woman squeezed tighter and lifted Chelsea a little off the floor. Her boots shifted against the rug as she tried to regain her balance. Then Passion's mouth pressed near her ear.

"Passion!" Chelsea yelled. The shout finally broke through whatever had taken over. Passion froze.

"Passion, hey. Down girl!" Passion immediately pulled away and set Chelsea back on her feet. Her hands hovered uselessly for a second before she dropped them to her sides.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Chelsea straightened her armor and took a small step back, not angry, but very firm.

"No, you sweet sweet girl. I was just giving you an 'I'm sorry' hug. Sorry about the mixed messages." Passion's face went red.

"Oh, uh, right. Well let's head to training. Then I'll take you over to the servicer golem shop if you're still interested. He's open today." She turned toward the door much too quickly, clearly grateful for anything that let her escape the awkwardness. Training helped. It was familiar enough that Passion could stop looking mortified and Chelsea could stop feeling bad. The instructors put them through their normal drills first, then moved into close-range counters.

One instructor had Chelsea and Passion spar to demonstrate what happened when a spear wielder was trapped inside a swordsman's reach. Chelsea hated that range. The spear wanted space. It wanted control. It wanted distance between her and the person trying to carve her open. The instructors forced her to work without that comfort, drilling her on how to turn the shaft, use the butt end, pivot her hips, and reclaim enough space to make the weapon useful again.

By the end of the session, Chelsea's arms ached, but her excitement outweighed the soreness. Her spear skills were not improving by inches. They were leaping forward. Every correction made something click. Every drill fixed some bad habit Aunt Bea had accidentally passed on. Chelsea found herself thinking about the day she would return to Junstruce and show Bea how a spear was actually supposed to work.