Valhalla gets a new resident

Is this the hunger gamers or what?

I looked up from the canvas, two freshly painted red eyes staring back at me. They looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't remember where I'd seen them before. The view that could change into whatever I felt like painting was a swirly mess a grey. It looked as confused as I felt.

I had taken off my letter man jacket because I didn't want to get paint on it. Unfortunately I on the other hand could have passed as a painting, a very realistic, talking, breathing one.

A knock sounded on the door. I looked behind me and groaned. I snatched a towel from the sink calling out, "What?!"

"It's Halfborn."

I wiped off some of the paint on my hands as I walked through the living room. I opened the door and smiled wide.

"Yes?" I asked as the door swung open to reveal the berserker, towering over me.

He raised his eyebrows at me and laughed, "Nice war paint Swifty! Should be fun in the full army combat session this afternoon. We just wanted to let you know that it's at 1, we had a late breakfast but there's a single combat session and buffet lunch that's calling to me and Mallory. Magnus will probably come knocking in an hour or two."

"The session is mandatory?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against the door frame.

Gunderson grinned and shrugged his shoulders, " depends on the schedule, but yeah. We've got to train for Ragnorok! After all, that's why we're here."

"Right." I replied slightly under my breath.

"You feeling okay? You look tired lass, should try and get some shut eye—" Mallory walked up and tapped his shoulder, twirling one of her knives in her other hand dangerously, like she was itching to stab someone.

"He's not wrong, also you should shower up, the bathrooms in these suites are pretty great."

I uncrossed my arms and managed a smile. "Thanks guys, see you in a bit I guess." They nodded and waved good bye. I watched them begin to walk down the hall toward the elevator.

I shut the door and pressed my back against it. I groaned and slid down to the ground. I honestly couldn't tell if they knew I was faking being okay with all of this.

I had really wished the battle wasn't mandatory because, one: I probably wouldn't last 5 minutes, two: I could be scouting out an escape route when things went south during dinner. Not if, when. Jack had made that much clear. And three: I didn't feel like getting killed again, all my life I thought it was just one experience I would have to go through, but apparently not. I lived in Valhalla now, even if it's only been a few hours, where everyone dies at least once a day. And that's if your lucky enough to not get caught up in an ultimate game of tag, like John Red Hand and the dude I saw in one of the lounges this morning.

Good news is that if I end up staying here, I'll have plenty of time to get used to life as an eneirjar. Which basically means participating in 'to the death!' Activities a few times a day if I could manage.

I shook my head, knowing how unlikely it is that I'd be able to to get used to any of this. I was a purposeful mistake, a test subject of the gods, sent here for a reason none of us know yet. It seemed like all the cards were stacked against me, and the only place I could belong was no where.

Its why I liked traveling so much, seeing new things, experiencing different cultures, because as much as I loved home, I didn't seem to fit.

I dreamed of going everywhere when I grew up, painting the beauties of the world so people could see it through my eyes and appreciate my talent. Writing about my travels for magazines and websites. Now that was all gone.