The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 235 - Three Comfort Types: Simple Touch, Complex Trust, & Playful Pretense

Chapter 235: Chapter 235 - Three Comfort Types: Simple Touch, Complex Trust, & Playful Pretense

The brunette’s ’sweet’ facade remained fixed stiffly in place as she approached her mother and sister. She lowered her head before the toddler, offering her hair and hoping the girl would tug on it as usual. It wasn’t quite self-flagellation... but she hoped-

"E-wa~"

Instead of the expected hair-pulling, Onya simply patted her older sister’s head with unusual gentleness. The fragment in Qat’s chest surged with sudden ’surprise’ at the gesture. It turned out the child could sense when comfort was needed rather than play.

"Thank you little ’river bend’. I’m alright now."

"For good measure, then."

With the sight next to her and the monotone she heard, Yatrel joined her youngest and pet her eldest daughter’s soft brown hair. Both actions weren’t nearly as effective compared to if a certain calloused hand had tried it, but together they still helped the reincarnator.

"That woman seems like she insists on being a problem for you. Would you like my help, dear?"

"No, thank you. It’s an issue where I believe her value is possibly worth my annoyance."

"Well, I suppose I know a thing or two about when to ignore or when to duel your own suitors."

’Huh?’

The heiress wondered if the sun overhead was addling people’s brains. Or if today was especially nostalgic with misunderstandings and assumptions!

"...That’s not what’s happening. But it’s amusing that you see it that way, mother."

The sun’s angle suggested only a few hours remained before their promised evening meeting. Hours that would be filled with family obligations, political maneuvering, and carefully maintained appearances for the both of them. But underneath it all, the young couple felt the pull of necessary words waiting to be shared in private.

’And necessary kisses before I think of good reasons to get rid of someone.’

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

The rooftop of an empty, unassigned and unfinished building offered perfect privacy under the evening stars. At least once a certain sigilist had gotten through with preparing the space.

Qat sat with her back against the low wall, Elua curled in her lap with fingers tracing idle patterns on her collar. The brunette had remained uncharacteristically quiet since they snuck away and met up together. Though in her case, she simply told Yatrel she was going out to deal with something.

’It’s not my fault she thought it was vengeance and was okay with it...’

"The elders were pleased with the tournament results."

The blonde’s low voice drew a soft hum from her wife. Tendrils of spirit wrapped tighter around the small cultivator as she continued letting.

"Though they had opinions about the exhibition match. About an outsider using our techniques and about my performance against it."

"Did they now?"

Elua’s monotone hid the edges in her mood as she shifted to press closer. Her mint eyes remained fixed on where her fingers played with Qat’s vest buttons.

"You’re still upset about earlier."

"Mm. A little. Though not about the fight itself."

The ancient cultivator tilted her head up to study her fortress’s face with a backdrop of starlight. Her usual facade had fallen away completely, leaving only the raw honesty of lifeless mint in her gaze.

"The woman sees what she expects to see. Like so many others. But for her to try to... protect you from me..."

The words trailed off as Qat’s hands settled on her waist. She could feel her beloved’s heartbeat through their proximity, the steady thud a stark contrast to her own racing pulse whenever they were alone like this. It always made her want to turn the tables.

"I know what you’ve done for me. You were also always clear on why."

The soft assurance drew a complicated ripple through their spiritual connection. ’Love’, ’gratitude’, and ’uncertainty’ took the biggest slices as Elua pressed her face into Qat’s neck. The reincarnator breathed in her familiar scent, lacking the sweat of the day after the swordswoman made sure to bathe before the meeting.

"Sometimes I wonder. If I helped too much. Not enough. If I wronged you by-"

Qat’s grip tightened physically and spiritually, cutting off that line of thought.

"Don’t. You’ve never forced my choices. The things you weren’t open about had clear reasons. Even now, you’re letting me decide about her offer instead of telling me to take it or not."

"It’s a good offer. You know how I feel about this sort of thing. I’ve explained it before when pushing my disciples to interact with the Talcres."

The Yecine felt her wife’s fingers pause on her collar before resuming their path. Tracing the material and brushing occasionally against her neck. The ancient cultivator’s lifeless eyes held a peculiar gleam in the dark of night.

"That you want everyone to grow stronger to protect who they love? Even if that means learning from many sources?"

"Yes. Even if it means accepting help from someone who doesn’t trust me. As someone who worked with more people like that than not, I can vouch for its importance."

Elua shifted again, pressing drastically closer as her voice dropped to barely a whisper.

"I just... I mostly don’t want to *plan* to share too much of your time with someone else. Not when every moment we get feels precious lately."

The confession made Qat’s spiritual tendrils tighten instinctively around her wife’s entire presence.

"Then we make sure training doesn’t interfere with us. Simple."

The brunette’s laugh carried no mockery in its dull sound, only genuine appreciation for how her fortress could make complex things sound so straightforward. She raised her head just enough to brush her lips feather soft against the teenager’s jaw.

"You have a way of making my worries feel manageable. Such talents."

Her fingers finally abandoned their teasing at the blonde’s jacket collar to cup her cheek instead. The swordswoman could feel her wife’s rapid heartbeat through the fingertips. Though she hardly needed it to sense the ’hunger’.

"May I have my reward for being good during the tournament now?"

The whispered question carried both ’playfulness’ and raw ’need’. The response came in the form of a kiss that held none of their usual public restraint. Qatrand’s lips pressed against her wife, drawing out a soft moan as she parted them to deepen the embrace.

Their tongues met as a body moved, Elua turning in the hold to straddle her husband-wife and claim her throne. The swordswoman’s strong arms locked around her further as their kiss became all-consuming. She could feel the ancient cultivator’s body trembling in restraint against her own.

The steady waves of ’hungry’ spirit flowed between them until the swordswoman was unsure if all of them were from her El. A long moment passed as they simply enjoyed the desperate closeness. The heiress eventually broke the kiss, pressing her forehead against Qat’s.

"Take me to your bed. Please. I’ll be good."

The soft plea with a thick wall of ’control’ around her urges drew a grunt as the Yecine tightened her hold. In a blur of motion, she rose to her feet with her mint-drop’s legs still wrapped around her.

The journey back to the campground passed in a daze, as Qatrand wondered if this was a mistake. If they were too charged to just rest in each other’s arms for the night. Illusions did their work of entering quietly and continued their work of keeping things private.

The flurry of kisses as the swordswoman attempted to lay the cute girl on the bedding felt like more of a defeat than any point she lost in the matches today. Poised over the body of her wife, with one elbow holding herself up and one hand holding the soft face, a low voice spoke.

"El... are you just pretending not to know what being good is?"

"Yes."

Pigeon blues closed as match-point was so quickly scored.