The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 165 - The Shape Of Grief Is Said To Be A Hole... One Must Be Careful When Pouring Anything Through It, Or Nothing Will Remain

Chapter 165: Chapter 165 - The Shape Of Grief Is Said To Be A Hole... One Must Be Careful When Pouring Anything Through It, Or Nothing Will Remain

The reborn cultivator shifted herself to sit with her back against Qatrand. The hand that had been up on her head was grabbed at and sat down upon her lap, where she began to idly play with the swordswoman’s fingers.

"When I was a teenager, my parents were already... weakened. They weren’t very old, if you look at the standards of this era. But, mortals living hard lives age quicker."

Her spirit was mostly calm as she spoke. The only other times she told the tale, she would pretend to be more affected. People expect you to be as sad as the day it happened just because *they* were hearing of it for the first time.

New information to them was ’fresh’. It had edges that caught on other things as it entered their minds. Being nonchalant when someone else was hurting about the thing you were speaking about made you ’cold’ at best or a ’monster’ at worst.

No matter how honest you were or how you tried to explain. After all, it wasn’t that she felt like she didn’t love the people that birthed her. It was just that being *stuck* on the type of end that they suffered had done little to help her survive the years after.

"There was a sickness that took root in the lungs. I didn’t understand cultivation yet. I barely knew how to read well. I didn’t know how to help them fight it."

She held the larger hand and spread the strong fingers of the other girl in mindless patterns. Thinking about how helpless she was back then was always frustrating. If she *had* remained a mortal, then so much of her life would have been wasted.

Though because she did discover her potential... millennia of learning to better herself passed by while surviving and - occasionally - seeking to share her existence with someone worthy. There were a lot of tiny, people shaped holes in her heart because of that.

’In an awful way it was a good thing that I learned to accept my parent’s death. It made softening the edges of other losses a bit easier.’

That ’amusing’ thought was another she once told a disciple of hers. They did not find it nearly as worth smiling about.

"The worst part was that there were people who could have helped. Cultivators who passed through our village regularly. But they didn’t see any reason to waste resources on dying mortals, they said."

The relationship between the two castes was nowhere as pleasant as it was in this age. A mortal servant now would be hired and paid. Such a job then... they were mostly taken and slaved - and that was if a cultivator deigned to bother with the weak capabilities of a mortal at all.

’So many just formed Guilds, holed up on their mountains, and made lesser cultivators do the grunt work. In a way, I commend them for their selfish business acumen.’

"I learned later that they simply didn’t know how to deal with it. After all, not all cultivators are doctors. But at the time, I just felt... helpless."

Her fingers gripped firmly on either side of her beloved’s hand.

"I watched them fade. Unable to get the medicine that had seemed to help others to work."

That part too was another sort of misunderstanding she was fated to discover the truth of. The medicine itself being peddled by the scummy snake-oil merchant she bought it from... never worked. The people that claimed it did were simply lucky to get over it on their own.

An arm reached across her front and held her tight. A flicker of that old anger at someone she could never find again had bled through her careful control. For every revenge story she could tell, there were ten more that ’got away’.

"I spent my first century cultivating but also learning everything I could. That included how to treat sick mortals."

She flourished her palm outward and started a little scene in front of them with her illusions. The dark haired woman she used to be moved around in a cloak, with a mask and gloves, inside a longhouse filled with cots.

"Sometimes it almost felt worth it... when I could use that knowledge to save someone."

The ancient cultivator’s voice grew distant as she made some of the people get up and leave the infirmary beds. But she made some of the beds just darken and fade. Many more than the number of people walking away.

"Qat, there was always more death. A new disease. More orphans who needed care that I felt obliged to provide. I thought I was taking a sort of revenge on my own circumstances through them."

"El..."

The older teenager called her name softly, but the brunette just hung her head lower.

"I traveled... mostly because it was safer than staying in one place. I tried to help where I could. Gave more and more of myself until one day... I realized I couldn’t remember why I even cared anymore."

A shuddering breath escaped Elua er Goltbred. The darkness of the ’beds’ grew with the illusion and surrounded everything in the room. The past life version of herself shimmered softly and stood staring up into the air.

"The need for help was endless. The deaths were endless."

The illusory woman turned and walked away. She reached the door to the small house as the small play the reborn cultivator had crafted came to an end. The girl sighed again. She didn’t like that this conversation would burden her beloved.

’It was more than enough that it burdened me for so long.’

"I couldn’t save the first ones who needed me. The first ones I wanted to. Trying to make up for that by pretending others mattered just... hollowed me out further."

"Look at me, El."

The tall blonde behind her had stretched her neck over her shoulder as she asked, but the heiress resisted the request for a moment... just watching some of the long hair cascade out of the corner of her eye. The listless face that finally rose and turned her way had its cheek kissed firmly.

"It’s not fair that you can kiss me when you want."

"I know, but you deserved it, my wife. Hey..."

Qatrand hesitated again. She always felt presumptuous when her thoughts felt too much like lecturing the Goltbred... or pointing out something she likely already knew. The feeling had existed even before she knew of the girl’s reincarnation.

The Yecine pushed it away, coming to the realization that such a little problem wouldn’t keep her from praising her El.

"...You really loved your parents. It’s... no wonder you were scared. To get so attached. To hold Onya. To tell anything to Yatrel... and Ondua. You didn’t want to care and lose them."

"I-"

"Hold on. I’ve also been thinking about something else."

Her husband-wife shook her head and interrupted whatever she was about to say. It might have been rude to assume based on her fledgling reading of the girl’s emotions, but it looked like it was going to be a refusal of her opinion.

"When you told me about researching the way for same-sex cultivators to have children... when was it that you first did so?"

Something like ’understanding’ flickered in the spirit of the brunette this time. It was not difficult to connect bringing up family to bringing up children.

"Ah. That came much later. After I had already lost several people I cared about. I’d thought that if I could just keep someone closer. Bind them to me even more thoroughly..."

The monotone voice trailed off, remembering how that sort of desperation had led to mistakes - like forcefully manipulating and breaking the mentality of someone she claimed to love.

"But you never did it. Even when you knew how."

"No. I didn’t."

The swordswoman squeezed her wife’s hands gently. She felt like all the pieces fit. The initial distance with Onya, the careful and arms-length way she approached familial bonds in this life.

"I might be wrong. You might have even thought of this already. I think you were scared to start a full family in your last life, El."

"To lose them... or to let them lose me. You’re probably close enough that calling it right works."

The girl’s head bounced left and right in a nod and her lips pursed as she felt stable enough to let her facade take back control. She probably could have told most of the story with it, but her ’sweet’ voice wouldn’t have had as much impact!

"And now? Are you still going to be so scared?"

An obvious amount of Elua’s usual ’mischief’ crept back into her spirit, though she didn’t bother to hide the genuine feelings underneath it from her spouse. Her pitch rose in parallel to the amount of ’sugar’ she wanted to add to the response.

"Terrified~ My love is just entirely too good at drawing out all my fears. They just want to come out and greet you. Then they debate whether to flee or sneak back inside. Aren’t they just very shameless?"

"Yes. They must have learned it from their living environment."

Mint eyes looked ’shocked’ before she ’pouted’... but just like the intense ’fear’ over the concept of losing the people she cared about in this life hadn’t been hidden at all, the swell of ’amusement’ in the small cultivator at the quip was on clear display. Qatrand shook her head and stood while supporting the girl to her feet.

"We should get you something to eat."

"Can I get another kiss on the lips?"

"That’s not food."

"It tastes better, though."

The tall girl looked down at her, nonplussed.

"O-okay, that’s not true. Exactly. They are both good! Just one more? I promise I-"

The babbling brunette was shut up in the very way she wanted. A ’smug’ emotion tore through the house... and pigeon-blue eyes shut as they locked lips. Qat promised herself that she would be stronger next time.

’I hope...’