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Petra has been thinking. A lot. She doesn’t really know why. But there’s quite a lot of unexpected feelings running through her body. Ever since she saw Jesse last night, she’s been stuck thinking.
She doesn’t know what it is, but last night she felt different. The way the light framed Jesse’s face, her jawline. The way it lit her hair. Streaks of beautiful brown tones. The way her eyes gleamed, her cheeks flushed.
It’s done something to her. She doesn’t know what it’s done or what she’s feeling.
That night, Petra just wanted to hold that girl. To hold her against a wall and kiss her. She hates picturing it; it feels dirty and totally out of character for her. But she’s still imagining the scenario.
She wanted to trace that girl’s body. She wanted to lick, to bite, to suck…
Petra groans, tossing over onto her side, the bed creaking under her shifting weight. It feels so disgusting, foreign, unnatural, unusual, to want these things. Especially from a girl. To want to do these things to a girl.
It's overwhelming.
Later that day, Petra was busy doing her usual. Since she now lives a slightly more mellow, more solitary life (again) in Beacontown alongside her friends (at least she has those this time), she’s been able to expand on her hobbies and figure out what she likes doing, beyond just adventuring and taking on monsters and dungeons.
She’s a blacksmith, just as a hobby right now. She’s always been crafty, but not good at making anything of quality. It doesn’t matter to her. She’s having fun hammering down swords, carefully crafting good grips and handles, and standing by the sweltering heat from her smelting furnace.
But… even during her hobbies, that thought is there. It lingers. For whatever reason, it stays.
She hammers at a sword (in progress), each hit being harder than the last. Petra’s not really focusing right now. She continues to slam at the blade, hammering louder and louder, more aggressively, until—
“Urghh!”
It’s been shaped too much, probably dented and bent weirdly. She stands awkwardly, using the back of her hand to wipe some sweat from her forehead.
So much for trying to distract herself.
Huffing, the ginger kicks her sturdy smelting furnace at full force, but regrets it soon after. Some tools come clanging down, attacking her feet, while she’s already hopping, stumbling and hobbling, holding her foot in pain.
Of course she’d kick a rock-solid, above-boiling, hot furnace! Why wouldn’t she?!
But then she feels hands steadying her, holding her underneath her arms. A breath grazes her neck. She freezes up.
Please don’t be Jesse… She thought.
“Petra?” … it’s Jesse. Yay… “Are you okay?” she asks, pulling her hands away, allowing Petra to figure out her stance, now with sore, throbbing 5 toes. Even with heavy-duty, practically lava-proof boots, that kick was ROUGH!
“Yeah, yeah, just uh…” her voice trails off, looking around at the scene. Tools lying on the ground, the sword sat on the anvil looking like a sad deflated balloon with the way she bent and dented it, and her toes now smashed, all while she’s feeling frazzled from her emotions. “Got frustrated,” she finishes.
“How come? Something bothering you?”
“No, no!” Petra responds quickly. Too quickly. “I-I mean, yeah, just having a hard time with, y’know, whatever this is.” She gestures at her messy workbench and anvil. Petra turns to face Jesse, her entire look a mess.
Jesse raises a brow, noticing how tangled her hair looks, the bags under her eyes, and how stiff her shoulders are held. “That’s unusual for you.”
“What?”
“You usually have— tenacity. Is that the right word?” Jesse asks.
Petra’s brows furrow. “… What?”
“Is it not?”
“No— I mean, yes..?!”
Jesse sighs, punching Petra in the shoulder. Petra grunts. “Petra, I know you’re not one for talking, especially about you and your feelings, but I can tell you’re stressed by something.”
Petra smooths her clothes out, dusting herself off. “I’m fine. Don’t know why you’re mentioning that.”
Frowning, Jesse grabs at her hand, just as Petra is about to turn back around to continue her work. “Pet…”
There’s a mix of confusion, guilt and fear written in Petra’s expression, in her eyes. “I—… It’s really not a big deal.”
Jesse raises a brow, urging her to continue.
Petra searches her entire internal dictionary for possible responses, hoping one will help her get out of this. Jesse can see right through her.
“Look, I’m just busy and stressed doing my work.”
“Your hobby?” Jesse says blandly, her tone indicating she knows Petra is lying.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Stressed doing your hobby.”
Petra sighs.
Ok, she can’t get out of this one…
“Petra, we all know you’re a horrible liar,” Jesse comments. We referring to the gang. Luckily, not the whole world… yet.
“I just—” Petra pauses herself, stepping back over to her anvil, picking up her sword and staring at the unintentional indents and bends. She hasn’t touched it up much, but it’s surprisingly reflective. She can see how poor she looks in the reflection.
“I’ve been thinking. A lot,” she says. “Just since last night. And it kept me up a bit.”
“What about exactly?”
Petra isn’t sure how to respond. If she’s vague, Jesse won’t get enough context, and then she’s gonna get interrogated further. If she’s direct and puts it bluntly… well, it’s your best guess how it would go.
“I don’t know how to put it, Jesse. I’ve been feeling things. Like, new things. Foreign feelings. I don’t know what they are and— it's bothering me.”
Jesse takes a step closer, resting a hand on Petra’s shoulder and giving her a short rub.
“I’ve never been one for… romance,” she winces just saying it. “But I just can’t stop pondering, y'know?”
Jesse feels a bulb light up. “That’s what’s got you in a loop?”
“I, uh, well— yeah, but I don't know how else to word it! I don’t even know what it is.”
“Petra, it’s just love. You can feel love. You’re allowed to.”
Petra lays the (now scrapped) sword back down, picking off her gloves and tossing them onto her workbench. “No, it’s not just that.” She shakes her head.
Jesse tilts her head, pulling her hand away.
Petra hesitates, slowly turning to face Jesse once more. She hugs herself with one arm. “It’s… more complicated.”
“How so?”
The ginger feels strung. Her whole body feels tense and sore, her lungs feel slightly more deprived of oxygen than usual, and her vocals are struggling while her brain can’t find ways to input.
“I’m feeling…” she searches and searches for words. “…Uh…” Her eyes dart around, blinking a couple of times. Jesse can see how nervous she is.
“Petra?”
“I’m getting there, just wait!” Petra blurts, holding up her hands and waving them wildly, a sense of being overloaded flooding her body.
Eventually, she eases and hugs herself again.
“I’m feeling these things for other women, Jesse. I’m feeling love for other women, and I— I don’t get it!” Petra finally manages, exclaiming her troubles. But it’s the slow blink, the steady gaze from Jesse that makes her stomach drop. “I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know it’s— I dunno, ok?”
Jesse’s eyes soften. “Is that what you’re worked up about?”
“Yes. I know it’s wrong, but I just—”
Jesse cuts her off. “No, no.”
“What?”
“Pet, there’s nothing wrong with being into other women.”
Petra’s whole expression shifts into one of confusion and concern. “But—!”
“I just don’t think you know how to process love in general,” Jesse says. Her comment makes Petra think a little, an orange brow raising in thought.
“But I thought that…” Her gaze averts, fingers clenching harder at her arm. “That it was wrong.”
“Come on, no. What would make it wrong?”
That question makes Petra feel stuck, brows now furrowed. She can’t really find anything inherently wrong about it, just that it was ingrained in her brain that it was wrong for no reason other than it just is.
“I-I dunno.”
Jesse smirks, poking her. “If you can’t find a reason— a good one — then there’s nothing wrong with it.”
Petra sighs in defeat. It’s not that she’s against it or that she finds it wrong. “I’m just confused.” That’s how she feels.
“I know. I think you should take a break from that smithing of yours and come to my room.”
She jolts. “What?”
Jesse rewords, “If it’s bothering you so much, we can talk about it in my room.”
Petra considers it. “You’ll hate me, though.”
“Why?”
Her eyes widen a bit, gesturing with her hands. Something something, uhhh… she doesn’t know, giving up and pinching her nose bridge. “Mmph, I dunno.”
“Same rule,” Jesse quips. “If you can’t find a good reason, there’s nothing wrong.”
Petra huffs a laugh. “Good point, I guess.”
“Let’s go.”
In Jesse’s room, things got tough. Only really for Petra, but for Jesse, it was a bit hard to convince her that it was ok to like other women. It was especially hard to convince her that she’s allowed to feel romantic feelings for people in general.
Petra is at least good at getting a hint, despite being stubborn. Although she’s gonna struggle to accept that part of herself, she’s at least learning about it now.
… 24 years late.
Regardless, she’s learning new things. She’s learned the label for liking other women, not knowing it even existed before that.
She’s not sure if she likes it as a label for herself yet, but maybe someday she’ll choose to take pride in it.
Jesse takes pride in her own label, even if she doesn’t talk about it to people often. She keeps it to herself, but she doesn’t mind telling Petra, to give an example and inform her.
But Jesse has told her to take it slow. Instead of figuring out whether or not she wants a label, Petra should figure out how to love in general. How to let herself love others in a way that’s more romantic than platonic. How to open up.
Hopefully, when she does, how Petra gives love will still include her stupid little quips and her silly teasing comments.
…Jesse would like that.
“Thanks, Jesse. I really needed that,” Petra says, sincerity in her tone. It’s rare for her to sound like that.
“No problem, love,” Jesse replies.
Petra feels her chest burn at that, and her stomach does at least 5 flips. She stares at Jesse with wide eyes.
Guess maybe she’s not far from figuring it out…