The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 366 - Oversharing Still Isn’t Funny, It’s Devastatingly Cathartic

Chapter 366: Chapter 366 - Oversharing Still Isn’t Funny, It’s Devastatingly Cathartic

"It wasn’t some brutish man in an alley. It was a Guild prodigy, younger than I was. She caught me trying to steal cultivation texts and treatises on anatomy. I was still obsessed with learning to be a healer at this point."

Fingers curling tighter into the fabric of Qat’s sleep shirt, a hand resumed its gentle stroking of her hair after it stopped when she said ’kill’. Elua felt really spoiled by the intimacies her precious gem chose to give, even though she always wanted more and more.

’I probably don’t deserve them, but I love them. I love her.’

"I’d gotten good at sneaking by then. At using illusions to get where I needed. Had a whole collection of ’borrowed’ materials in my past. But she was faster than I expected. More skilled and trained. And she could counter me."

"You couldn’t use your Astralism?"

"Oh, I tried."

A bitter sneer of sorts crossed Elua’s emotionless lips. It wasn’t the first or last time she would run into this problem. Which is why she did her best to learn all she could of martial arts and physical energy manipulation after this.

"But she was an Enchanter too - with a Shield Astralism, like Corde has. Knew exactly how to disrupt my attempts... had been tempered against it by their master."

The memory grew more vivid as she spoke and Elua squeezed closer to Qatrand’s warmth, seeking comfort against the chill of remembrance. Against the hollow chill inside herself.

"She just kept talking while she chased me. Relentlessly. About how she’d make an example of the little thief. How she’d carve a lesson into my skin that other street rats would remember."

She could feel the fierce protectiveness radiating from her beloved. The sort of person that might have stepped in to help in that sort of situation. A rarity that usually ended up overwhelmed, back then.

’That is if they weren’t backstabbed by the person they were trying to help...’

"When she finally cornered me, she was so... proud of herself. Brandishing this ornate knife like she was the most heroic cultivator catching a notorious criminal. She didn’t even consider that someone desperate enough to steal from a proper Guild... might be carrying something deadly with a will to use it. All because I ran."

The memory reached its climax and the spiritual pressure thudded down against the pair of them lying in bed. Intent that held nothing quite like anger or any other simple emotion. Something much more like that ’indifference’ she sent at the Yecine before had settled over the bedroom.

"When she had me pinned, one hand crushing my wrist against the wall, I could feel the edges of the vial digging into my palm. The knife pressed against my throat while she lectured about justice and punishment. She noticed how I was gripping something in my hand, but just smirked."

A long sigh escaped the ancient cultivator. Remembering how she had waited so long. Hoped for some alternate route. Misguided and young, without a strong enough understanding of herself or others.

"She thought I was holding poison. Asked if I planned to deny her justice by taking my own life, like spies and assassins sometimes did. Or if I was foolish enough to think I could splash her with it before she cut me."

The blonde swordswoman underneath her was silent, her spiritual tendrils steady in their wrap despite the pressure seeming to try and peel them away. To keep them clean and purposeful. Knowing she wasn’t ready to touch too deep inside, without being a Primalist.

"I’d already worked the stopper loose. Not because I wanted to kill her. I didn’t. Being willing to take a life and wanting to murder are different concepts. I just... I wasn’t going to let myself be killed for taking books I’d return anyway. I *always* returned everything."

Which is why for the longest time she was only seen as an ’annoyance’ by those much stronger than her. A game or trial to let their disciples play with instead of getting involved themselves.

"For a moment, I thought I wouldn’t have to do anything. She drew the knife back from my throat, and I felt such relief thinking I might just be able to get away with that one little bleeding spot from that sharp edge..."

The monotone cracked slightly then, revealing an actual ancient emotion beneath. Because she’s summoned the memory to the front of her consciousness too far. Reliving the sensation from then, with the weakness from then.

"Then she drove it into my shoulder. The pain... it was like the vial just moved. My Element... it just took control. That’s what I told myself for a while after that. The Acid shot up, caught her full in the face. Her eyes, her nose, her mouth as she screamed..."

Elua trailed off, burying her face against Qatrand’s shoulder as her body began to shake with long suppressed emotion. Understood through the lens of time, of self reflection, and of who she wanted to be now. Strong arms wrapped around her, holding her together as the memory threatened to tear apart.

"I stood and watched her die. Watched her claw at her face, trying to stop what I’d done. It took... it took so long. And all I could do was stare and think that I should feel something. Guilt, horror, satisfaction, fascination... anything. But there was just... nothing."

The blonde swordswoman shifted and rolled them both to a sitting position, so that her wife was cradled against her chest. Still surrounded by warmth and the steady rhythm of her breathing - but less passive than lying there underneath the one who needed her.

"That’s what makes me worse than someone like my mother, who everyone is afraid of. She has to go into a trance not to feel things as she fights. Because without that, she has a layer of compassion even for those who might harm her family."

She’d never seen it herself, but she knew the type. Knew the spiritual markers of someone who berserked when a line was crossed. Elua had lines too - and the ’result’ might be the same in some cases, but the method was different.

"I just... calculate. Measure threats and responses. Indifferent to compassion for life beyond the few I feel belong to me. Even now, telling you this, I’m watching your reactions with my spirit, cataloging them..."

"El."

The single syllable, deep and firm, cut through the spiral of self-recrimination and made the brunette cultivator go limp. Qat gave her a few moments to recover before lacing her intent with a small order.

"Look at me."

Elua raised her head immediately, meeting pigeon blue eyes that held nothing but love and understanding. Far from a threat - and something for which the responses she had lined up... could not be used.

"You’re not ’worse’ than anyone. You’re someone who survived and learned to protect yourself the only way you could. That doesn’t make you a monster."

"But I am one. I’ve killed so many people in that life, Qat. Not just that first one. Hundreds. Thousands. And I don’t regret most of them. In fact, even those I do are more about the circumstances with which it was carried out."

"Because they were threats. Because they would have hurt you or, if I understand you like I think... innocent people if you hadn’t stopped them. That’s not monstrosity - that’s necessity. It’s duty."

Cupping the little ancient cultivator’s face in both hands, thumbs brushed away tears that had fallen without the girl’s notice. Too much of herself was focused on fully recording everything about Qat in this moment to pay enough attention to her own body. Or even her own emotions outside of making sure she didn’t act on her lust.

"And besides, you love me. So much that the term doesn’t even make sense when I look at other people. Inhuman or not, evil doesn’t love like you do."

Even as a soul so young, Qatrand er Yecine said this with such certainty that Elua er Goltbred would have rewritten any definitions in her heart without question. But in truth, she didn’t need to. Because she realized that letter by letter, picture by picture, the way she described herself in her heart.

’She’s been replacing it within me all this time.’

"A villainous cultivator, an evil person... they don’t teach patience. Defensive techniques. No actions to keep someone important to them safe. They don’t *have* important people beyond themselves. You do."

Despite everything, Elua had found herself smiling in return to being lectured. Facadeless and awkward. Still with wet and dull eyes. But deeply content and happy. It felt like the weight of anything and everything could easily be pulled into her beloved’s Gravity - and that unlike others...

’She’ll never let me go~’

"You’re biased, Qat."

"Completely. I’m the person you love. But I’m also right. And I also love you."

The blonde agreed before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. It didn’t take long for both of them to *just* fall asleep after that. But it did take a few more gentle kisses.

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