The Hero of the Last Descent was not a woman who liked saying most things twice, except a number of heartfelt intimacies and assurances to her cute wife. So it was important that she thought through and delivered exactly what she intended to convey with as little ceremony as possible.
"I could let you wrap the whole of whatever happens in some other name. A quiet nothing, until no one wonders about that time with the Ouras cult. Maybe a small Guild that got lucky and defeated it by chance. You’re more than able to make believable rumors. You’re more than able to make yourself the thing no one needs to look at."
Standing calmly and stepping over, the former Yecine cradled the reincarnator’s face. The one at times she wanted to keep herself completely... while even more often wanting it in the very same location that the reborn cultivator also desired the ’fortress’ to be planted. Where everyone could see and love them for who they are.
"But listen to me, El."
"I am doing nothing but, my love."
A statement as she opened her eyes that was *true* - as much as it was not. She was actually recording the entire conversation into a high quality spiritual fragment. As she did with all of her spouse’s most expressive moments. Doing two things at once that technically amounted to a way to listen to it now, later, and forever.
"I want my people to know it was you. Consequently, that means I need *everyone* to accept that it was you who took care of it, because such a thing would not just stay secret."
One of the millennia’s greatest understatements, as *already* there were people impatiently boarding trains... all to spread any of the newly minted news about the Gravity wielder!
"And hear me when I say that I need them to believe it. So that I am not constantly frustrated at people underestimating you. When what I want this world to understand is that my wife is also a cultivator in the best sense. One that will stand in front of something that is threatening others."
"Because you think I should."
"And?"
With a calloused thumb and forefinger, first rubbing and then pinching her earlobe, El could only be annoyed. Her Qat was enjoying the moment too much, but also not enjoying it *that* way - even though they were alone. Just plain happy to talk and share her mind with the brunette. To have this difference of opinion and desires that were spoken of like adults.
All the face touching was just a confusing platonic window dressing this time!
"And... you’re trying to turn my cowardice into courage."
"No, I’m not. I’m just pointing out that your foolhardy selfish behavior, just like mine did on that night, has tangible benefits to a large number of people."
Talk of selfishness flipped something in the medical fairy, like a phrase loaded with an explosive that launched her into action. Grabbing the wrist of the swordswoman, Elua led her to the bed and had her lay down with the same look of detachment as last time. A night when Qatrand gil Yecine admitted that the much younger version of herself was selfish... for not more rigorously pursuing the offer of removal of the masking tool implant.
A few looks and gestures, a few nods, and both of them put a short pause on their rather one-sided fight - thanks to remembering the last argument, that neither of them ’won’. With the blond laying on her front, the ancient expert in so many things began a physical therapy session for the *third* time since her return from the Exclave. The second at the Goltbred estate had ended with an admission of negligence, of failing to push back against the ’boy’ on the real provenance of their personal decision to keep things as they were for now.
This was an *unaccepted* outlook by her spouse. One that made that whole prior conversation feel like a ’draw’ in regards to who felt the most blame for letting her issue reach this point. As her fingers worked on Qatrand this time, she began calmly modeling the potential invasive procedures she could perform against the rate of change in lower abdominal function and unnatural sacral scarring.
Waiting to reach that point where she felt she could begin their *current* argument up again, which took most of the massage. During which the heiress also began thinking that she didn’t actually want to make a habit of litigating things like this, while touching such regions on the person she loved.
’It is just bad form to allow her to feel me upset *every time* I have touched her here, even if it is clinically!’
"...Leaving aside that you just called me reckless - or actually no. That’s exactly my problem with it. Are you trying to make people think it is okay to be like I am? This sort of person that can *only* be reliably told what to do by the one they are hopelessly enamored with?"
"Let’s not say that with an impassive face in this situation, El."
"Sorry. You know I’m just trying to not make this uncomfortable for you."
"I know. And it isn’t or I would stop you. But yes. I do want people to accept the way you behave."
"That-"
"I treasure you so greatly - and that should be enough, yes. But others not appreciating your value irks me, Elua. The same way it must have felt for you. Before I was clearly recognized."
Hands stilled their willingly unpaid, professional quality work. Trying to take in her partner’s next words while forgetting everything else. Attempting to figure out how to react to them in the most truthful way. But realizing quite strongly there was only one thing to do.
"Was that... not obviously my goal?"
Mint eyes ticked to the pigeon blues, head tilting up as the swordswoman continued to speak. Concede. Yield.
"For us to be accepted as equals by others and not just ourselves."
Buckle under the often quiet immensity of her precious gem’s heart, even a little.
"For you to know what it means to be loved and respected. Without some fear born from lack of understanding you."
Five millennia had built Uvraneht up to hide, wherever possible, and then finally when she was strong enough, tempered her just not to care anymore. Especially when everything she seemed to do ended up creating more quality enemies than quality allies.
However, the one constant was that survival meant growth, meant climbing the path toward Divinity. Survival meant a thick blanket of ’loneliness’ woven about her spiritual core, hiding a central personality that few accepted. An identity that could love so much it would crush the star she revered if not careful.
It had done so before - and it had done many other things that skimmed the edge of societal and personal lines. A truth of who she was and had been that probably made others instinctively distrust her. Just from the way she looked at them as... unimportant noise. Which itself was not a factor she felt like she could entirely mitigate, no matter what her beloved’s hopes were.
But the way El’s personal spiritual barrier actually churned, the stellar-void sense of emptiness contracting into something that perhaps - *perhaps* those ranked twenty and above on her Favorite People list could look into, deeper than before, was a start. While she hadn’t acquiesced as part of any plan or scheme, just reacting to the moment, she still got more than a bargain out of letting her defense down.
"...Hey..."
The former Eldest ’Son’ growled out the call in what seemed to be a hard to place tone after witnessing this change. A grip stopped the brunette’s calm wrist that was about to try and return to the medical caretaking task - and mint eyes looked at her lover with a hint of confusion. Because her entire petite body, the container of an ancient spirit that had fractionally ’revealed’ itself a bit more to the world, had just been re-covered in a ’darkness’ by the Primalist’s tendrils of *jealous* spirit.
"...Qat?"
A physical hug ’crushed’ the Breacher upright after the questing voice, before laying the brown haired woman back onto the bed. A piece of furniture so freshly cleaned, complete with the presence on it that she had dreamed of so much. That she had woken to cradle a small feeling of heartache for so long. Her wife was finally here and finally treating herself well when asked to.
"Thank you for hearing me out."
"Mm...nn?!"
But within dreams - and even when kissing against reality - it turned out there were limits.
"Hm. The jam might actually be good with the tea after all."
...To how much relief a person could be handed over...
"Wait, are we really about to-"
...Before they were all but obliged by their own inner workings...
’Oh, so we are~ She just went right for it this time, how - mnn! - impatient...’
To *hand* something back with urgency.