The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 283 - A Disciplined Sword Monk Cannot Focus With Such A Heart Demon In Their Dao Partn- Wait, Wrong Theme!

Chapter 283: Chapter 283 - A Disciplined Sword Monk Cannot Focus With Such A Heart Demon In Their Dao Partn- Wait, Wrong Theme!

Qatrand er Yecine sat in a meditative posture in the dark of her tent. Her muscular frame only moved from an extremely slow but steady rise and fall of her chest as she drew in breath after breath with counted spacing.

Four hours of attempting this since a late dinner had not yielded the serenity she sought. She knew it was because she only worried without reflecting properly.

Through the spiritual fragment embedded protectively in her chest... waves of Elua’s emotions continued to pulse like distant thunder. When she first left her at the camp those emotions had been particularly sharp. The girl’s ’frustration’, ’desire’, and ’embarrassment’ piercing her deeply.

Then there was a strange period of ’determination’, ’fear’, and ’love’ that Qat could only continue to send warm feelings back for. Even though she could tell that a fraction of the last emotion was surprisingly directed at someone other than herself.

She wasn’t particularly jealous when she noticed. There were moments where she felt it when her El and Onya were together. The swordswoman was pretty sure that this time it involved her mother-in-law.

That the illusionist didn’t seem to feel any particular ’guilt’ after a period of time was a good thing. Qat looked forward to listening to the heiress willingly talk about what parent and child discusses alone together. She didn’t doubt that her wife would just start explaining on her own, eventually.

By now those had all *mellowed* into a less stark blend of ’longing’ and ’concentration’. The latter meant her wife was working on something. That she was focusing her mind and hands on a craft like Qatrand had learned to feel when the girl was performing leatherwork.

"Maybe I also should have done something more physical. It was easier to walk and think than dive in my thoughts while sitting in place."

Qat tried again to draw her awareness inward. The recent direction of her tendrils along the pathways El had made within the reincarnator herself was paired with countless hours of her own practice. The Anchor Astralism that defined her spiritual cultivation already better aligned her entire astral and corporal forms.

The combination allowed her to resist outside influences better than most, even if it was not specialized for that task... and maintain her core identity against intrusion. Of course, the doorway through which her mint-drop’s desires often flowed unchecked could be called such an intrusion. If only she hadn’t welcomed it inside herself.

That very fragment pulsed strongly again, sending a ripple of something that felt like... ’mischief’. Qatrand’s mouth twitched with a smile.

’That’s good. She really seems to be coming out of it already, even though it was so strong today.’

That intensity of ’hunger’ had surprised her and - as usual - left her feeling helpless.

The ’older’ teenager found her mind drifting to a concept that Elua had once explained with uncharacteristic reverence in her voice. The time when physical maturity of their bodies leads to optimal conditions for... intimacy. Something she referred to as a cultivator’s Prime.

The reborn spiritualist had described it with her lecturing voice, but the clinical precision couldn’t quite mask her personal investment in the idea. A perfect moment, a perfect union, a perfect beginning of that change to their life.

Qat understood the concept *intellectually*. The body reached its peak of natural growth, the spirit became aligned with that personal truth, and the resulting resonance of that realization created lasting benefits to the mental state when encountering certain Firsts that deeply affect your spirit.

She recognized its importance to Elua in particular. How the reincarnator needed to plan for this structure... this self control. The cute brunette may have stressed the idea of it all being about the benefit to ’her beloved’. But the ’fortress’ herself felt that a moment like that would be more than a gift from her mint-drop.

There was a feeling sometimes in the Yecine’s heart, every time she thought back on what Elua had told her years before. The topic of how the illusionist didn’t particularly have a lot of care about what sort of form she grew up into. It sounded easy-going on one hand... but also like a complication her wife may be dealing with quietly.

The blonde had an epiphany one evening about this, but had never grown the courage to bring it up. Having lived so long as another form, so long showing others what she wanted them to see... might it not have led the person’s whole mentality to feel somewhat disconnected from her own body?

Qatrand’s thoughts of her wife’s complex relationship with physical form made her shift uncomfortably on the spot she sat. Eventually a slightly wry expression composed of pinched brows and strained smile grew. The irony of worrying about Elua’s potential dissociative behaviors while she herself maintained a meticulous deception about her own body had hit her harder than last time.

The masking tool embedded in her spine constantly projected a false spiritual signature to others. Years of physical training had shaped her into a tall, muscular frame that drew admiring glances from others even beyond her El. Yet, she still suppressed much of her feminine characteristics to achieve it.

She wondered if El lived experiencing something similar but more... encompassing. A disconnect not from the gender expectations of others but from the very experience of being in a form that was not originally hers. The ancient cultivator had lived for millennia in another body, according to what Qatrand had been told.

This one - young and small and delicate - must sometimes feel ’borrowed’. Like clothing that didn’t quite fit right, no matter how long you wore it. Like Qat imagined she would be like if ever wearing clothes styled like the dresses for women in their culture.

Thinking of how she had been an adult, the illusion Elua had once shown her came to mind. The projections of what her adult form might become. The image of one had been unexpectedly breathtaking - and even now the memory made her chest tighten with anticipation.

’But had that been a burden rather than a comfort for El? She seemed to be glad that I could react that way, but wasn’t it creating an ideal that her current body doesn’t yet achieve?’

Every time Qat called her ’cute’ or ’small’ or more recently ’mint-drop’, she saw the adoring sparkle in those eyes. But she’d started to wonder, beneath the obvious pleasure, was there also a hidden frustration? Did Elua not yearn to be seen as the powerful, mature being she truly was beneath her youthful exterior?

What Qat couldn’t comprehend was how to reconcile that future goal with the present reality of her wife’s increasingly evident desires. Or... her own.

Sometimes it felt fast, but sometimes the wedding felt so far behind them. Since then, Elua’s kisses had grown deeper. Her fingers even more exploratory, dancing along the contours of muscle that the Yecine had spent years developing.

Each time they came together in private it seemed like new boundaries were tested. During that, it was Qat who ultimately needed to draw the line. Who was trusted to gently but firmly redirect her wife’s attention elsewhere.

The Yecine inhaled deeply while rallying the essence close to her form. She let her focus build its mystical density before her Gravity manipulation pressed down on her. The extra feeling of more ’weight’ burdening her body had successfully dulled her worries about this in the past.

Like a monk sitting under the pressure of a waterfall of their own making.

’Remaining strong, reliable, constant... is hard.’

This was what she knew Elua needed from her. Discipline. An ability to hold fast when her wife’s own impressive restraints threatened to crumble. To be her ’fortress’ in more than name.

The Yecine let out a breath she held too long before running a hand through her blonde hair and playing with the black ribbon binding it at the back. There were still four more years until Elua would no longer be trapped between what she was and what she would become.

’But perhaps I can help her feel more at home in this body, this life, even before then.’

She had succeeded with smaller things already by accepting her and pushing her to accept herself. The way Elua had grown more comfortable around her parents after Qat’s encouragement was one example. How she’d opened her heart to Onya despite initial reservations was another.

The thought began to form that, instead of just worrying about the restraint of her wife’s impulses... she could somehow help her El feel more connected to her current self. Through more activities that celebrated what her body could do now, rather than what it would be capable of someday. Rather than what they were holding back doing.

’A fruitful distraction... like her other hobbies.’

The sound of movement outside her tent drew her attention - a soft rustling that didn’t belong to the typical sounds of the Yecine camp at night. Her hand instinctively moved toward the sword on her lap. The spiritual sense that had been sent inward lanced out and recognized quickly that the entity our there wasn’t human...

The almost familiar chirp of a bird lightly tweeted by the entrance flap. Then it waited for an acknowledgment. She called to it softly in her low voice.

"Enter."

The bird slipped through the space as if it had done it before. Its iridescent green feathers reflected the lantern lights from outside. It carried a small piece of rolled parchment secured with a pale orange-colored ribbon wedged in its legband.

The Skydancer hopped forward a few times and tilted its head. The creature watched her closely with its white eyes... regarding her with an intelligence for an animal that still occasionally unnerved her. Then it loosened the paper ’on its own’ and used its beak to deposit the message in her outstretched palm.

’I’ve seen her first avian companion do this, but it is still very weird...’

Qatrand untied the ribbon with the care of someone who wished not to rip even one edge of the paper. The motion was something that she knew would happen at least a few more times... aware that with her El this was likely to be the first of many such message deliveries tonight.