This Ascent to Divinity is Lewder than Expected (A Futa LitRPG)

2.03 Level Up

Rosalie d'Celestin had heard that the Fractures—and to a greater extent, their shards—were above all else, capricious. Fickle. No two behaved the same, and even the same shard was prone to aberrancy within its domain. But the one she had shared with her tall, dark-haired companion had been many times odder than she had prepared for, even accounting for this.

It concerned her, truthfully, whether partnering with Zoey would result in similar shards. Would all latch to such ... indecorous ... behavior as a result of Zoey's runes? Or had the previous shard been an outlier? If the former, Rosalie might have to reconsider her decision to adventure with Zoey.

Or did she? Had it really been that bad? For all the discomfort it had provided, it had also offered some ... 'not' ... discomfort ...

She couldn't explicitly say she had fun. A d'Celestin would never.

And who was this girl, anyway? Rosalie stared into the sleeping face of the strangest woman she'd ever met, her heart finally calming from its pounding.

Rosalie had never woken in the arms of another person. She had never thought it would turn her insides to a gooey mess, or have her stomach bouncing with butterflies to the point she felt nauseous. But that had been what happened, five minutes ago, when Rosalie's eyes had fluttered open, and she had felt herself entangled by the soft heat of a woman she'd shared more intimacy with than anyone in her life.

It wasn't any person who would have invoked the feelings. Not 'waking in another's' arms by itself. It was because it was the odd, caring, gorgeous woman she'd met the day prior who was breathing softly next to her. Rosalie's body pressed tightly into Zoey's, and while, having come down from the bliss in some small manner, she could now be frank, now admit that things were a bit warmer than she'd have preferred, with sweat starting to gather where their bodies met, Rosalie still wouldn't have broken contact for anything. She'd have laid this way an hour. Two. However long she could.

Not that she would ever, in one hundred years, under extensive torture, admit such.

Besides, it was a biological reaction. A weak, human one. Rosalie didn't care for Zoey, not really. She was a potentially useful party member, and that was why Rosalie had offered to partner with her, regardless that it would take ages to catch her up to speed, and that she showed no natural talent for combat. She had rare, powerful runes—one that even accelerated Rosalie's own advancement!—and that was the reason Rosalie wanted to be around her.

That was the reason she studied Zoey's sleeping face and felt like she might float away. Her runes.

Did that make sense?

Even an intense effort in self-deception couldn't quite get her to a 'yes', so she chose not to think about it.

Rosalie knew herself quite well in some regards, and exceptionally poorly in others. That was what a life of focus afforded: imbalance. To exceed, sacrifices needed to be made. Romance had been one of many for Rosalie, growing up.

And it would remain that way. The barest, tiniest hints of a crush (was that what it was? With a thrill, Rosalie realized she had found a word for it) meant nothing. Her goals hadn't shifted one inch. Her circumstances, either. She was still the youngest daughter to Enzo d'Celestin, Guildmaster of the Deepshunters, one of the five single most powerful men in existence. To say she had expectations piled on her would be a comical understatement. 'A mountain' might not do it justice.

But pressure hardened. Made stronger. The crushing pressure her father exerted was not some form of cruelty. Enzo was not cruel, for all his faults; his position merely demanded it. His violent efforts during Rosalie's upbringing had been to chisel from granite a successor worthy of his title. His two previous attempts—Elodie and Charlotte—had not emerged from the stone to his liking.