The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 124 - The Stalks Of Fondness Grow Taller In Absentia...

Chapter 124: Chapter 124 - The Stalks Of Fondness Grow Taller In Absentia...

A black haired swordswoman sought out a new secluded spot near the edge of the encampment. It hadn’t felt right to her to ask her cousin to leave while he was stuck in his own introspections. She eventually found a cluster of trees that offered some privacy.

With movements that showed a combination of careful choice and outward recklessness developed through being accustomed to bedding down anywhere, she laid out her bedroll and settled in on the forest floor. Her sword was within easy reach and the sky was so clear that the thought of any rain felt foreign.

The talks with the Coiled Serpent members and with Navuill weighed on her as she sought rest, but it was an absence beside her that kept her mind running. Qatrand forcefully closed her eyes, but it was not long before her hand drifted across her chest. She focused on the faint connection the fragment enabled with her wife, even in separation.

Her wife’s mint eyes... sometimes sparkling with mischief and love, sometimes listless with ancient honesty, and so many other variations that she had seen gazing at her spread out like a field of stars in her imagination. The teenager felt a sharp pang of longing so intense to her that it was almost physical.

’This is the reason for her ’diversions’...’

It stabbed at her in a different spot than her father’s hurtful words, but she would almost rather he be calling her names again than this. Qat was whispering into the night before she even realized it.

"El, I wish you were here."

Instead of trying to bury or control the feeling, she found herself imagining the Goltbred heiress and her reaction to the conversation with Navuill. She could almost hear her cute wife’s voice and see the pride in her eyes as Qatrand shared her newly worded resolve to shape the Yecine family’s future.

’You’d be proud of me, wouldn’t you?’

In the imagery, the girl finally felt free to help proactively instead of holding back so much, while waiting for the decisions that Qat needed to make for herself. She pictured the brunette’s enthusiastic nod as well as her rapid-fire questions and suggestions. The Yecine saw them laying together intimately, planning and dreaming... and felt like being able to make herself happy in a way with these thoughts while somehow still brooding was strange.

Qatrand’s last thoughts were of their actual reunion as sleep began to claim her. She would share these new ideas with Elua, while most likely feeling her wife’s arms hugging her - and if not, she would take the initiative on her own. If the girl wanted more kisses, then surely she wanted more hugs!

The piece of the girl’s spirit pulsed gently, as if in response to those ’brave’ thoughts, and the swordswoman drifted off in much more comfort than when she first laid down.

---

In the city that one cultivator longed to return to, a girl lay awake in her bed. The silence of the night felt oppressive without the desired steady breathing beside her. She shifted restlessly, her body and mind both yearning for a presence that she had been robbed of twice in a row... though for different reasons.

"Qat..."

The raw desire to simply not be apart gnawed at her the most, making sleep quite elusive. To distract herself, the young teen thought back to their days at the Youth Guild. If she could not find solace in reality, she could seek it in memories! After flailing around for the most compelling ’anchor’ - all of them were so great to her that it was difficult! - one particular day stood out.

<---

The training yard was filled with activity as young cultivators paired off for a round of sparring practice. Elua stood obediently to the side, well known for not participating in these despite her increase in ’training’ sessions with Qatrand. Under the eyes of the medical fairy’s admirers, she observed her fiance with much interest.

The one her beloved was facing off against was an older student like ’him’, but known for his aggressive and fast style.

"Remember, to stick to the forms. Don’t try anything flashy that will lead to serious injuries."

The Yecine nodded obediently. Both through the foundation of her family training... and due to having so many bags tossed in strange directions at her by the young girl - her stance was exceptionally solid and unwavering. The reincarnator had truly started to turn her ’fortress’ into her namesake!

The signal for the match to begin came, and her opponent immediately launched into a flurry of quick attacks. Despite the instructor’s words, each of his swings were more showy than the last. The other students whispered excitedly, clearly impressed by the display of agility.

But that excitement dulled as Qatrand remained steady. She deflected each strike with minimal effort, never straying from the basic forms she’d been taught. Her spatial judgment and instinctive reactions had been refined by the bags that would always ’hit’ her much more softly than the speed they had been traveling dictated they should.

The fact that her fiancee spent so much careful effort to ’pull her punches’ had confused her at first... as that was not the Yecine’s way of training. But when she questioned the heiress over it, she claimed that the only alternative she would even allow is for the training instruments she used to strike *twice* as hard as they should instead of ’a tenth’.

When Qat was about to agree to that, the mint eyed girl clarified that the one being struck would be the Goltbred herself - in the same spot that the swordsman would have been hit. There had been a surprising amount of growth the few sessions after that ultimatum and her precious gem never asked to be hit more powerfully again.

In the sparring match, the teenage ’boy’ led her opponent into growing further and further frustrated. His attacks became wilder and less controlled. It would be unsafe to continue so, in a moment of overextension, Qat saw an opening and took it. Her heavy blade met against his lighter one, near each of their hilts, as a spiraling flick of her wrists disarmed him.

The yard fell silent after the practice sword stopped clattering on the ground. The instructor approached them both, with an expression that was hard to read.

"Qatrand, why didn’t you bother attacking? You could have ended this much sooner."

The young swordswoman straightened up more and her low voice was calm and clear. She wasn’t very adept at chatting with the other trainees, but answering appropriately to an authority figure had been drilled into her from an early age.

"The assignment today was to use the forms we needed the most practice with, sir. I saw no reason to make light of my opponent’s choices."

The man’s stern expression broke into a smile.

"Well said. Strength is grown by staying adamant in one’s training, even when tempted to do otherwise."

"I wasn’t tempted, sir. I only ended it because I was afraid his grip would soon fail and the weapon would strike a fellow trainee."

Elua felt cracks in her dam holding back all of her pride and affection in that moment...