The little dining room turned workshop smelled like leather and wood, though one of the people inside it was too focused on the subtle spice wafting from her beloved. It was a nice smell, but it wasn't the girl's natural one… which gave a certain Goltbred the idea of what sort of food a certain Yecine had brought for them to enjoy.
"What exactly do you say about me?"
Qatrand mumbled after they both remained quiet for a while. Elua, still standing on the furniture like she hadn't been raised in an affluent or respectful family, grabbed the tall girl's wrist and pulled her grip away.
"Well, it's not so much about the words. It's about how they are used."
The heiress rose further up while grabbing and pulling the blonde's face to her chest, stroking her hair in the way the swordswoman often did to her.
"I spoke about that woman for a fraction of a minute. I regularly speak your name and praise you for dozens at a time."
...And so it was expected that a sickness was spreading in the city, due to dozens of people sneezing out of nowhere. The epicenter of the outbreak was seen as the Goltbred estate.
(This and the chapter title are vaguely referencing an Eastern superstition about sneezes, for those unfamiliar~)
- - -
Qat: You complimented another person's looks.
El: I compliment yours all the time. And your cultivation.
Qat: You don't compliment my swordplay.
El: No comment.
Qat: ...
- - -
I wonder if the Yecine actually noticed that she glossed over this part in their jealousy and reassurance phase.
I also wonder if the swordswoman ever thinks about how her El did that whole bridal ritual so many chapters back with a long heavy blade so *easily*.
Or maybe she just shrugs and attributes it to another of those things about the ancient cultivator... where she is way better than anyone else in the region but considers herself to not be great.
Kind of a 'your average skills/stats aren't actually human' thing.