Chapter 87: Just a bit of banter
’Well, so much for restraint...’ I thought to myself, the faint ghost of a smile tugging at my lips as Selia’s mischievous suggestion still lingered in the air. But she didn’t push further. At least, not yet. Once the last of my strength truly ran dry, she allowed me to topple back into the mattress, nestling in by my side as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
And that was how the night came and passed, uneventful and strangely serene.
There were no sudden revelations, no divine visions nor hidden dangers creeping out from the dark corners of the night. Conversely, Selia didn’t seek to tease me any further, to push my endurance even closer to its brink.
All she did, was reach out and cover my hand with hers, the lone degree of physical contant we established even though we both laid down in a single bed.
Just a simple, warm, quiet rest.
For the first time since waking up in this world, I allowed myself to surrender fully to that stillness. No alarms in the back of my mind, no subconscious paranoia keeping me half-awake, no desperate breathing to minimize the effects of Saitness teasing.
Selia’s steady breathing, the warmth of her body so close to mine, and the faint, fragrant scent she carried — like something between herbs dried under summer sun and the sweetness of untouched snow — all of it created a cocoon I had no desire to break.
And so I drifted, free of tension, to sleep.
...
When my eyes cracked open again, it was to the tender brightness of dawn painting thin lines of light across the room. For a moment, I was too drowsy to even process my surroundings. My eyelids felt heavy, my thoughts sluggish. Then, as I shifted my head slightly, my gaze landed on her.
Selia.
The saintess lay right there, her features so absurdly calm and unguarded I nearly forgot how to breathe.
Her lips, soft and faintly parted, allowed the gentlest rhythm of air to pass, every exhale a whisper against my ear. Her skin seemed to hold the light itself, glowing faintly in the morning’s embrace. And her hair — silver strands scattered across the pillow, some even trailing over my shoulder — gleamed with a silky luster that captured me whole.
There was an aura around her, subtle yet undeniable. Not divine fire, not sanctified authority, but a deeper peace that clung to her in rest. The kind of stillness that could soothe even the most storm-ridden heart.
For a long while, I did nothing but observe, spectate this calming, soothing show.
Every slight rise and fall of her chest was a quiet miracle. Every twitch of her lashes, every faint adjustment of her fingers where they curled against the blanket, pulled me deeper into a spell I didn’t even realize I was falling under.
And then, as if on cue, her breathing shifted.
The calm rhythm deepened, her chest expanding just a touch further before easing again. Then her lashes fluttered. Slowly, gracefully, her pale-blue eyes cracked open, a sliver of consciousness slipping through like the first rays of dawn itself.
Our gazes met.
For a heartbeat, she only blinked, still halfway caught in the grasp of sleep. Then her lips curved upward, faint but unmistakable.
"You were staring," she murmured, her voice husky from slumber yet somehow playful.
I opened my mouth, some excuse ready, but her hand moved first.
Cool fingertips brushed against my cheek, tracing the line of my cheek. She tilted her head, her smile widening just slightly as her thumb drew lazy circles near the edge of my jaw.
"Well, it would be a shame to waste such a view," I retorted, my voice lower than I intended.
Selia’s eyes lit with that glint of mischievous delight. "Flattering me so early in the morning? Dangerous game."
"It’s not flattery if it’s true," I countered.
She chuckled, a sound soft enough to shatter any lingering drowsiness. And before I could prepare, her hand slid from my cheek down to my chin, gripping lightly.
With a sudden tug, she pulled herself up, leaning over just enough that my head tilted forward—
And before I could react, she pressed me straight into the soft valley of her chest.
Warmth.
Heat.
And something else, something indescribable that slammed through my senses like a tidal wave.
The thin fabric of her sleepwear did little to shield me from the reality beneath. Her skin was smooth, supple, and alive with warmth, every shallow breath sending subtle shifts that pressed and released against my face. Her scent enveloped me, far stronger now — sweet, faintly herbal, faintly wild, and entirely hers.
My ears were filled with the muffled thump of her heartbeat, steady yet quickened, betraying the faint thrill that her teasing mask couldn’t hide.
I froze, caught somewhere between mortification and bliss. My hands hovered uselessly, uncertain if they should push her away or cling to her.
"Comfy?" she teased above me, her voice vibrating faintly against my ear through the resonance of her chest.
"You’re... evil," I managed, my words broken and muffled, though the accusation lacked any real force.
"Hmm, maybe," she hummed, tightening her hold around my head ever so slightly, forcing me deeper into that dangerous softness. "But you don’t seem to be resisting."
I groaned, the sound hopelessly muffled. My senses blurred, overwhelmed by the heat, the rhythm, the scent. Every detail carved itself into memory against my will.
Time lost all meaning in that embrace.
Finally, after what felt like both a fleeting instant and an eternity, Selia’s hold eased. She allowed me to pull back, though just barely, only to lean down and press the gentlest kiss upon my forehead.
"Good morning," she whispered.
I exhaled sharply, dragging in air as though surfacing from water. My chest burned, my heart thundered, and I had to immediately force myself into my breathing technique just to find balance again. Inhale, exhale.
Steady rhythm.
A simple act of supplying my lungs with fresh air so that they could extract the oxygen and push it towards my heart.
By the time I opened my eyes again, Selia had already shifted. She sat cross-legged before me, her usual garments restored, her silver hair tamed, her presence once more carrying that dignified, almost untouchable aura.
But her smile — faint, knowing — remained.
"You ready?" she asked, her faint smile still carrying the slight cheekiness from my ealrier exchange. But her eyes?
Those were already filled with the seriousness and focus needed for what we had in store for the day.
The task that I couldn’t finish yesterday on my own. The job that we were now going to complete together.
"Yeah," I nodded my head before mirroring her stance and then reaching my arms out, "let’s do it."
She reached out, clasping my hands in hers. No words, just the quiet warmth of her touch. And then she began to hum.
The sound was low, melodic, threading into the air like a stream of silver weaving through the silence. I felt it before I understood it, the resonance brushing against the edges of my mind. It wasn’t spellwork, not exactly, nor prayer. It was something simpler, more straightforward.
A bridge of conciousness that she used as a pathway for her mana.
The haze within me cleared. The fragmented threads of my concentration, scattered by exhaustion and the earlier play, drew back together. Slowly, inevitably, I found myself sliding back toward that state I’d grasped before.
When she placed the seed in my palm and gently curled my fingers around it, I didn’t resist.
Her hands closed over mine, cocooning the fragile thing between layers of warmth.
And then—
The world shifted.
This time, I didn’t feel mana within myself alone. Selia’s presence surrounded me, her reserves vast and deep, like a lake hidden beneath the calm face of a mountain. I didn’t draw from her — no energy poured directly into me. Instead, her pool stretched out like an extension of the canvas, a greater medium in which I could paint.
And to my quiet shock, she was there with me.
Her awareness hovered alongside mine, not intrusive, not controlling, but observing. Sharing.
Together, we peered into the qualities of the seed.
The sliders appeared once more, countless threads and variables, each demanding attention. This time, though, I wasn’t shackled by the limits of my frail reserve. Her presence steadied me, provided a breadth of reach I hadn’t known before.
Carefully, I began to adjust.
One slider shifted upward, its effect amplifying the plant’s durability, its bark thickening in projection. Another adjusted the resilience of its roots, allowing them to dig deeper, clutch harder. Energy poured into reinforcing its leaves, its ability to draw in light, its internal flow.
Not a single trace was wasted toward awareness or consciousness. Every adjustment bent toward survival, toward persistence.
Selia’s awareness brushed against mine with every change, wordless yet communicative. Approval, curiosity, sometimes faint concern. She was learning the process as I was executing it, and for some reason, that connection felt right.
Minutes blurred into hours.
The work was slow, painstaking, and each adjustment pulled threads of mana like muscles straining under load. Yet together, we persisted.
Until at last, the projection settled.
The seed, no longer fragile, now shone faintly with the qualities embedded into it. Not awareness, not will, but a body perfected for endurance. A vessel that could endure, absorb, and reinforce itself endlessly against the pressure of the world.
I exhaled, drained yet trembling with quiet satisfaction.
The first seed was completed. Only eleven more to go.