The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 475 - Relapse, Reverse… Rebound?

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Thirty-minute sessions were held every three hours, each one refining the prosthetic’s calibration further. Elua insisted on varying the timing to first refine the connection by using baseline spiritual states - Dawn, Noon, Dusk, and Midnight, all the sorts of light levels and how that affected her spirit. Working on calm moments before seeking out the more exceptional ones. The first of which was being woken up suddenly in the middle of the night, somehow bright as daylight, with bloodlust rocking the room.

"Your mood affects your spirit, which affects how you process the visual information. If I only calibrate when you’re alert and stable, it’ll stop working properly when you’re tired or emotional."

"If you would stop circling in my blind spot I’d *show* you emotional!"

The brunette danced away from the irate reddish-blonde repeatedly for twenty seconds, unable to get her mother to actually declare what was or was not working with her new eye right now. Not with a set of determined arms reaching out to grapple her in any way possible.

"No, I’d rather not. Were you always so rabid if woken early?"

"I was dreaming of your father, young lady!"

"Are you ever not? You act like I took the one opportunity you’ll ever have to picture him during your sleep!"

A foot stomped on the ground much further upset when hands finally found the illusionary body. Because it morphed and dispersed into a pile of Ogre dolls, like her youngest still slept with. They all landed on their feet - except one who did a handstand - and ran off in all directions. That cost both of them half a day, as neither would apologize.

However, by the fourth day, Yatrel could see more than just blurred light. Shapes began to become much more distinct. By the seventh, she could read sizeable text even with her organic eye closed. And by the eleventh... the saturation of colors finally matched her natural vision. It was looking good, but the fourteenth day turned out to be a setback which caused Elua’s deeper frustration to finally surface.

"The peripheral vision is still off. Things seem to skew upside down as they approach the edge."

Yatrel reported her only perceivable complaint while tracking a fast moving spiritual automaton - a small, new design that her eldest created for her to use as a sort of combat test partner. The other set of mint eyes squinted and followed it with a grimace, the reincarnator trying to push her adjustments without destabilizing the whole fragment of energy with her superior Breacher cultivation in that field. She’d already done that three times throughout the period of mending the sight.

"Now?"

"Better, a thinner edge of it now... but not quite- oh, it’s all gone again."

"I know."

The ’young’ girl’s voice carried a sharp edge that made Zonnel flinch. She had been watching all of this, with permission, when she was not checking in with her friend. And while she had caught the parent and child bickering playfully, this time was different. Pressure extended and flattened down, hitting like a runaway train over a cliff edge before it clawed back to the illusionist.

Teenage eyes had gone dull, that emotionless blank face that the mother had not seen since before they parted at the train station, for the start of the Descent. And Zonnel witnessed for the first time what her strikeforce leader had described. Sharp spikes of emotion - though she would call this hammer-like instead - before immediate and forceful suppression. Like watching a door slam on someone’s feelings... compartmentalized and opaque.

"Elua."

"I’m fine."

"Elua, look at me."

As Yatrel reached out, the daughter began to lift her face ’reluctantly’. Her cheek was cupped gently, with only a small scratching pinch of fingernails near her ear.

"Your stories have painted a picture, but it’s your actions that tell me who you are. I’m very proud that you’re reconciling yourself with whoever you once were and whatever you’d once done. So, please don’t hold back like this?"

A thumb brushed against her cheekbone even as her spirit resonated warmly with the Fidelity Astralism in front of her. She knew she was going to regret teaching her during their downtime. Rue revealing that in some limited way, the Dame Goltbred could use Empath adjacent techniques against... *for* the sake of those she felt a sense of loyalty to. In the same way that Navuill er Yecine had once tried to calm her down, someone she loved now did so.

’And I really, really hate that it is working. Because I feel like it is only guilt for having blanked her short term memory a handful of times that I am letting her actually mess with my spirit... something I should only be letting Qat do!’

"I don’t want to be the reason you relapse, darling. Not when I know this means so much to you. You’re allowed to be frustrated for your own sake. You’re allowed to feel things and show them, even when you’re working hard. Especially when you’re working hard - because it means you aren’t truly focused on the thing you want to be and need to clear your mind. So... tell me what’s wrong."

A dam built of distractions... prosthetics, regenerators, and the cold and thin air high up in the Exclave... finally broke as the weeks without acknowledging something properly built enough stress. Tears spilled over as her reverse-facade shattered, changing from emotionless to the sort of scrunched up, messy, and snotty face of a teenager who could not just imagine she had lost her mother - but one who had lived it enough to know she didn’t want to experience it again.

Her shoulders shook as she sobbed and tried to talk through all the fear and fury when she’d first read about the injury. And about now, the crushing pressure of wanting to do everything perfectly because it was not just her mother’s quality of life at stake, but potentially something she might rely on too far in sudden combat. Thoughts of not letting her go back through the Gateway at all had crossed her mind more than once - and she admitted that freely right now.

One hand stroked through brown hair while murmuring quiet reassurances. A lot of strong, worrying phrases were spoken between the pair. Possessiveness that looked to protect and obsession that divided priorities cleanly. As the duelist lightly threatened her own daughter, to bring her husband to the Exclave if she was not allowed to leave ’or else’, Zonnel stood with her hand on the door’s lever.

Knowing she’d lost the ability to escape what was happening without interrupting it... but not at all brave enough to do so. The healer really just wanted to go deal with the much simpler problem for an Empath. When it came to Nysoi er Valmenf and the depression that Leysah had apparently brought about in the young woman, it just required her to lend an ear, a shoulder, and treat her like a patient in an infirmary that needed food and mandatory exercise.

Meanwhile, she wasn’t even sure where to begin ’fixing’ these two.

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A week later, another spiritual pressure wave rippled outward from the central mansion spire. At least it did ’in the future’. Like a shockwave through water, disturbing everything outside of the meditation area under the cliffside basalt arch. The Clairvoyant within broke out of her Astralism training and bolted to catch the wrist of someone and drag her into the protection of the ritual circles. This time, in reality, rushing a little harder so that it did not make Zonnel faint and get her pinned under the older woman’s weight.

The dulled impact from the foresight experience still made Nysoi wince when the ’time’ came, pressing her free hand to her temple. A headache in exchange for the forewarning materialized was a small price. Pressure dissipated quickly, Elua’s regained control shunting most of it skyward or downward into the earth. But from prior experience, the residual force was enough to make the air ’feel’ thick and sticky for several seconds.

’Like swimming in honey. Should the *happiness* of someone really be so violent?’

A hand suddenly came up to steady herself on the eighteen year old’s shoulder, the hand that was not still caught in Nysoi’s surprisingly iron grip. Their faces were close in the ritual space, considering it had been sized mostly for one person to be seated at. Close enough that pale lilac eyes opening up could easily see the concern forming in the simple, unexciting, unsharp brown eyes.

"Are you alright? Another headache?"

"...Yes. I saw it coming this time. Sorry. For grabbing you like this."

Releasing the healer’s wrist, suddenly aware of how tightly she’d been holding onto the person... the cultivator that had trapped the young woman against her unconscious body heat. At least, in the first three path-checking renditions of her Astralism usage. It wasn’t intentional and never truly happened, but that didn’t mean it was so *easy* to forget the sensation of another woman’s hair falling over your face.

’What is she washing it with, anyway? It’s not what she gave me when she forced me to take baths after the fourth day here...’

"Don’t apologize for keeping me from getting hit by her mirth. I really don’t want to try and resist her again all on my own. That’s the... fourth time now you’ve warned me? Thank you."

Fingers brushed against Nysoi’s temple in a completely professional assessment, her eyes closing as she directed her spirit to check for any lingering effect. It was of great interest for the healer to know that Clairvoyant abilities were subjected to feedback damage based on how strong of a spirit the thing they are involved with in potential timelines actually is. She was even considering writing a paper on it to pass the time.

But for the reddish-blonde, the gentle touch lingered a moment longer than strictly necessary. Her pulse quickened as her mental defenses sprung up thanks to the adrenaline from the run, she told herself. Not from the easy, unmuddled warmth in Zonnel’s voice when she expressed her gratitude. Or from the unknown need to put proper distance between them... even if it left her out in the viscous field of remnant energy that danced with more ’giddiness’ parts per million than it should.

"Just... paying attention while practicing. It’s nothing. You’ve been checking on me so much lately, it’s only fair."

She was given a smile and a pat on the head as the Empath traded places... pulling the younger woman back into the ’safety’ of the modified meditation ritual. Where before it had been mostly designed to bolster the Walk Astralism, it had been touched up to allow a more general exploration and enhancement to spiritual abilities. And Zonnel could feel how the current state of affairs was playing havoc with the sometimes manic Valmenf.

But that consideration, learned only with a short leap of foresight-only line of questions, made something in the cultivator chest tightened uncomfortably. She’d spent over a year knowing exactly where her heart sat. Time pining hopelessly after a curved blade wielding Kinetic Elementalist, who would never return those feelings like she could redirect and return force. Never in the way the merchant wanted because she *could not*.

There was a sort of safety even in that hopelessness. In the certainty that she’d never have to risk anything because the outcome was predetermined by her crush’s sexual preference. It was going to fail, eventually. It always was. But the flutter of uncertainty in her heart over when the plainer woman’s unfettered care was shown...

That wasn’t safe at all. It made every moment feel like she was living in unsteady Clairvoyant ’runs’. For the Valmenf daughter had never known what it was like... for a lack of instinctive attraction to *wobble* like it had the past few days. Or what something starting from pretty and familiar souls - and not from pretty unfamiliar eyes - was like.