The door to the bedroom clicked shut behind them. Qatrand kept one arm firmly around Elua's waist, holding the girl tight. She gripped the door handle with the other hand tightly, not yet turning to face her small wife who had *not* stopped staring at the side of her face.
Her spiritual tendrils were still wrapped around the smaller girl's limbs. She had done it to keep her a bit more docile and prevent any prank filled squirming… but the brunette hadn't done anything at all on the walk.
The ancient cultivator didn't fight against the restraints. If anything, she melted into them just like before, though this time with clearer intent. That she was leaving everything to Qat.
The only time she even moved was when she first arranged herself by wrapping her legs tight, pressing a cold and smooth object into the Yecine's chest, and crooking a hand to hold on to the muscular swordswoman's neck.
