The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 471 - Copperized Memories & Challenging Moments: Relapse
The Challenge began soon after glossing over what *just* happened. A Divinity showing up and disappearing was put forth as ’something that happens’ and left at that. Zyris stepped forward to dance with Nohre, brought onto the viewing area to sit down for a while after the experience. Fluid, gentle movements by two people who understood each other enough... not to step on each others toes.
Elua’s emotional response to that was pure ’satisfaction’ at seeing the orphan getting along with a mother figure. And at seeing her disciple with a flair for manipulating Water into the midst of the ’cheerful’ and ’free-spirited’ movements without being too overwhelming about it. Her skill there even distracted her master from the lack of *traditional* skill in dance!
Qat too was happy for them. That her wife had given them these beautiful moments without as much political backdrop as had been in theirs made it even better. Willfully ignoring that what happened with the Divinity could be argued as just such a thing. Of course, that bull rush of pride changed quickly when Fusand learned he was Dueling today... the heiress herself.
Mischief flooded through every pore, barely contained glee at the nervous determination in the boy’s stance. Feeling it in physical form and not just as the roil in her cloud of spirit was an exotic experience. As if she could actually detect the serotonin *naturally* flooding ’her’ own bloodstream. For some reason, it made her want to grab the brunette’s skull from either side and squeeze!
Ritual combat began simply enough. Testing exchanges with the little Ogre guiding Fusand to improve his technique while keeping him *slightly* harried with slowed down counters. Her defensive positioning was even more solid than a heavy blade wielding swordswoman - and her physical energy was more efficiently channeled in tiny bursts than anyone else on the continent. Experiencing it felt like watching millions of swings from her family elders.
At least, until she dropped the energy almost entirely from her face with deliberate intention.
’What is she-’
Two exchanges later, Fusand’s punch connected solidly. Splitting her soft lip and sending a trickle of blood down her chin. The impact was real, not illusion. Painful, because she did not use techniques to ignore it. Entirely avoidable, because she meant it to happen exactly that way. And Qat felt every bit of that as if she had made all of these decisions. As if she was the one smiling savagely with deep protective feelings... emulated from *herself*.
"You just hit a girl with her defenses down. Remember this feeling and your clear horror right now. If you ever hurt Nohre, if you take to raising your hand against others in glee? I’ll tell... no, show my ’fortress’ what you did to me."
Duplicating herself and pointing at the *much worse* injury on the illusion, the sandy haired teenager shook his head with a heavy sigh. This made the watcher want to pat his shoulder and apologize for her wife, but also knew she would need another minute or two before doing so. He’d still *just* ’hurt’ her El...
"I would never. But if you are trying to scare me, why not just admit that you would be the one to come after me? That has... a lot more impact considering... everything."
"Because you already know that I am terrifying. Obliquely, of course. But I don’t think you *really* know what Qat will do to you if she is justifiably upset, do you?"
Soft, dangerous, performative speech cloaked the explosions of ’rascality’ and ’delight’. For El already knew she would be sharing *almost* all of this day with the older girl. That her threat to tattle was a lie to the teenager with his freshly shaking spirit. Not the truth because the brunette always intended to let her partner see this - and she never intended to let her pure protector do dirty work that she can handle on her own.
Her ’notes’ stressed these points as if the creator were afraid she was being dishonest about that. Old pain from others thinking they were being used and manipulated to do things that Uvraneht would have rather done herself, if any single part of situations had been different. She’d taken the blame and never released it, no matter what apology may or may not have been given by the few people she ever cared about.
The execution of it all ’this day’ was just theater, crafted specifically for an audience of one who wouldn’t see it until weeks later. And Qat thought she would - and should - be more concerned for the girl using herself as a prop in this ’lesson’. But while she still wanted nothing more than to palm the head of her wife and speak to her sternly to be more careful with herself, she also felt nothing but ’amusement’ and ’love’ back in reaction to both the ’mischievous’ and ’anxious’ sides.
And eventually, when the memory stored inside began to fade... the whole experience became more contemplative. More suffused with longing that bordered on physical pain, that shifted ’her’ insides into requiring closer regulation of hormones so that they did not unbalance entirely. On the disciple’s wedding night, the sigilist, spiritualist, and solitary girl wrapped into one poured the last touches into the sphere in her hands.
And with a small apology for being unable to bring herself to remove the ’unsightly’ things, for wanting to be understood without hiding it, the memory slipped away and snapped back into reality as abruptly as when it all started. Pigeon blues opened to a thin stream of warm tears. Experiencing that end had worsened Qat’s own longing, sharpened by having experienced a matching ache - or perhaps a greater one, like a stone knapping against flint.
"El..."
She clutched the beautiful copper cultivator tool against her chest, protective of the memory within... the person it represented. Her first direct choice of an individual to promise to cherish - and it mattered not how little she understood it back then. Because it still made her wife an existence that meant so much more to her than all of the people she remained duty bound to protect and lead.
But there was more to do, more to wade through and endure. More her wife would expect she could give to others... and she would protect that idealization as best as she could. Despite knowing it might be a better idea to take a longer break to settle herself, she reached for the first letter. Breaking the iridescent wax seal that the blonde had sent within the goods which Yatrel had made the three Exclave visitors take to her daughter, Qatrand began to read.
/ My Beloved Former Yecine,
Your settlement is thriving under your capable leadership according to your letters and my visitors’ testimony. As expected. I trust you’ve already experienced what I shared. That... speaks for itself more than my weak writing, so I won’t go on and on there.
Instead, I’ll focus on a request regarding my mother. I’ve been working on a prosthetic eye for her and the installation requires my medical expertise. Nohre should be talking to her and I did pen a letter especially for her... but the result is that I’d like to invite her to visit. Along with appropriate company for the journey and procedure.
I know this is a significant ask. She’ll need to be away from the estate for some time, away from my father and my sister... again. When she just got back from that campaign.
Bringing her here also means trusting others with knowledge of this place. Of me. As I am unwilling to ask my disciples to devote more of their time, their early life developments for something that is not life threatening.
But I believe I can help her in a way that wouldn’t be possible on the continent and I’d very much like to do this for her if she agrees. Or see her anyway, if she does not. The choice is hers, of course.
The choice of who to send with her is yours. And... I know I said I wouldn’t go on in *this* letter... but I miss you. What I’m building to pass the time is taking shape into something I think you’ll find beautiful and valuable when you finally see it. But it means nothing without you here every day to share it.
I hope you don’t take that as me begging you to be one of the people who come. Because it is exactly that - and you should exactly ignore it. Sorry.
For my only one - all my love,
Your El /
A calloused hand pressed the letter into her chest, over her heart as she stood.
"Don’t apologize to me."
The teenager woke up each morning greeting what was once the Goltbred eldest daughter’s spiritual fragment embedded inside herself. And for the next minutes as she got dressed for morning exercise, thought only of bringing the girl back ’against her will’ by imposing her own selfish desire. Even while knowing it is wrong, because the reincarnator with such ’obsessive’ love would never argue against that sort of restraint.
That was how Qat could believe, so firmly, that her wife’s choices must be in their best interest. That was how her sword arm began moving every day. With built confidence in her spouse grinding against the wavy edges of emotion for her. So, a single letter that more explicitly showed a moment of weakness was nothing. At least, she told herself that while stomping back through the estate... and *taking* a hug suddenly from the mother-in-law who did not see her coming.
Not from the duelist’s bad side.
