It would take some time to get used to. Even now, with only Gerrie here, fear crept into her heart. What if this was all a trick? They had forced her into hallucinations that had felt almost as real. But she never spoke in those dreams, and she spoke in this one.
She reached back to run a hand along Helle’s shining auburn coat. The feel of it as familiar as her own skin.
“I got out.” She believed it a fraction more. “This is real?” she whispered to Gerrie.
“Yes, Solveig, this is real. You are real and you are here.” Solveig nodded, but when she still showed hesitation to believe, Gerrie sighed. “How can I convince you?”
She shrugged and Gerrie was quiet for some time. Solveig recognized the quiet contemplation on her face.
“I swore I would never speak of this to anyone, but here goes. Remember that time I ... got that rash on my lady bits?” Gerrie finally said.
Solveig snorted a laugh and nodded.
“You pushed and pushed but I never told you how I got it.”
“How could I forget?” Solveig whispered, chuckling.
Gerrie grinned. “I suppose it’s hard to forget when I was walking like a witchling with a full cloth for a week,” Gerrie said with a sigh. Solveig smirked at her friend, grateful for the distraction. Her friend feigned a scowl. “Well, you’d walk like that too if you had blisters the size of pine cones all up in there!”
“The story?”
“Will it prove to you that you’re really here?”
Solveig stopped laughing at the reminder and thought about it for a moment.
“Maybe,” she responded slowly.
“Oh, I think it will.” Gerrie took in a deep, exaggerated breath. “I was on my way back from a long visit in Alfheim with Queen Eir. It had been such a frustrating and fruitless journey, trying to get the Elven back into the Trifold so I needed some ... tension release while we were travelling home. I didn’t want to put in the effort of bringing someone to bed, so I took matters into my own hands.” Gerrie hesitated.
“This is not embarrassing, Ger.”
“That’s not the embarrassing part. No, um, instead of using my hands, I wanted to be a little adventurous.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. You remember those fruits that grow in the trees near the Alfheim palace? Their shape is blatantly phallic.” Solveig started laughing and Gerrie glared at her. “You’ve thought it before too and you know it!”
Solveig nodded, her foreign grin making her cheeks ache.
“We’d eaten the fruit with the Elven so I didn’t think anything of it. They were ideal for what I needed, so I picked one with the perfect curve, long and thick. It was a beautiful piece of fruit really. I think you would’ve liked it, it had just the right amount of—”
“Gerrie.”
“Right, anyway, I brought it back to my tent. I got all comfy and cozy, you know how it goes. I even lit a few candles and got myself warmed up before the main event. I started with some nipple—”
Solveig lost it and fell over from laughing too hard, the lack of muscle strength to hold herself up apparent.
“I want you to get the whole picture! I was primed for it, Solveig, so ready to get a good long—”
“Gerrie, I get the picture.”
“Apparently, when you pick the fruit, you’re supposed to wear gloves and wash it because it has a toxic membrane. I didn’t know that, so halfway through my endeavour, the burning started.” Tears were now streaming down Solveig’s face, and Gerrie started laughing with her. “So not only did I develop a horribly painful rash, but I didn’t even get to finish!”
The tension in Solveig’s body eased as the females took a moment to laugh together. She was lighter, grateful for this moment with Gerrie.
“Okay, okay, I believe you. This is real,” Solveig whispered.
“Glad my shame could help.”
