Chương 1004: Day One Thousand And Two

Dear Diary, Funny how with all my intellectual superiority complex from back in the day, I never really twigged to how fuckin' forgetful I was. I think it's because in general, my brain remembers things when I'm presented with some kind of reminder. It doesn't have to be a big thing, either. Like, walking into class used to be enough to remind me not only that we'd had homework the night before, but everything we'd studied that I intended to use to bullshit my way through the assignment.

Once in a while that even saved my ass, since I'd be able to spit all kinds of facts at the teacher, talk about everything I'd 'written' as I claimed some stupid thing like 'the printer in the library didn't work' or 'my internet went out so I couldn't email it to you'.

Some part of me thought I was totally getting over, that I'd conned every one of those teachers, but some part of me now, I guess some part of me that's teaching PT, realizes that the victory condition for the teachers was never 'give the students an F' or even 'get all the students to pass'. Fuck, it wasn't even 'get the students to do all the work'. It was 'get the students to learn'. Which I guess if I could recite facts and analyze them I was doing.

I mean, I'd forget again the moment I walked out of class, until something brought it back to mind, but that's just, I dunno, presentation. Not sure how I feel about the fact that here and now I don't think I ever remember having 'homework'. Independent study time, yeah, and assignments in some classes, but nothing like 'homework'. Then again, with classes stretching from dawn to dusk except a couple hours for lunch, there wasn't much 'home' to do work in.

Part of me isn't sure how I feel about that, the idea that Academy education just consumes a Cadet's life, especially if they don't have the kind of Endurance I have. But then I think about the kind of shit they get thrown into on the regular and I realize that maybe it's just prepping them for the times in a Hero's life when they have to go until the job is done or they fall over trying to get it done.

But getting back to the whole thing about being forgetful, a lot of people hear that word and think 'bad memory', which isn't exactly right. If I imagine memory like a warehouse full of information, mine is plenty big, and has no problem retaining things and keeping them in reasonably good condition. It's the organizational system that's not only shitty, but seems to actively fight against any attempt to make it less so.

I dunno if that's due to my trauma, or something inherent to me, or, fuck, something that happened because my mom got lit when I was still bean sized and she didn't know I was there. Now I'm wondering if there's any real difference between those three, what with fetal alcohol poisoning definitely counting as trauma, and shit that happens in the womb just being, y'know, part and parcel of what makes us Humans and Human Adjacent people what we are. Speaking of what we are, I'm also not sure if I...

No, that's not right. I was gonna say 'qualify as Human-Adjacent', but that's not true. I do qualify. I think, I feel, I decide. I am more my own person than I ever realized back before Yule. I'm not just somebody else's fingertip. I'm me. Yeah, 'me' is a tentacle. Fuck it, not like Shapeshifting, Mimicking, and Blend don't give me an even more enormous amount of flexibility in my personal appearance than anybody has any right to have.

Ain't nobody who has a perfectly shaped body by their own standards, except maybe felines, who each individually think their shape is perfect. Makes me ever more amused that within the continuum of felines, the Maenads are correct by any democratic standard, since they're all identical, and they all think they're perfect. Wait. Shit. No. They're not all identical, not any more. I fucked around with Marie... No, I Changed her.

Deep breaths, calm my racing pulse, because I remember her specifically saying that she wanted that Change. Maybe I didn't quite realize what I was doing when I did that Sparagmos on our wedding night, but I didn't coerce her into it in any way. Fuck, I fought against it every step of the way, and she had to kind of mousetrap me into it. I dunno if I really 'enjoyed' it, but I think it upset me way less than it might have if I hadn't seen her come back after the fight with The Morrigan.

Yeah, fuckin' weird as shit, blood play taken to a ridiculous extreme, but I'm pretty sure she enjoyed it. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Okay, I am gonna stop being an idiot today. No promises about tomorrow, but for now... As we all lay there in the Bath after dinner, I thought, Marie? Vlickies? Uh, about Sparagmos? Holy fuck my Murder Mittens could manage to fit more 'again, again' energy into the words, Yes, Please.

than anybody else I'd ever heard, including our bevy of toddlers. Shit. That's not fair, because even Isnomi isn't a toddler any more. She's a kid, yeah, but she's a Child, not a Toddler, not an Infant. I laughed at the eagerness in Marie's mental voice. I wasn't exactly offering, you big fuzzy nerd you. But I did have a question, and if it took me a bit to get it out, I wasn't gonna let that stop me. Do you enjoy Sparagmos? Like, having it done to you? Yes. Duh. I ignored that last snarky bit and said, how?

Like, does it feel like acupuncture or something? Orgasmic, Vlickies. That fit what I'd seen, what I'd heard, what I'd felt from her, despite everything telling me it couldn't be so. Like, the getting cut apart bit or the respawning bit? Yes, Vlickies. Yeah, should have seen that coming. Not like I hadn't seen her coming every time she respawned, though I tried to ignore and deny it. Okay, I wasn't entirely sure about the time in Tallulah's courtroom after she got beheaded by Lindsey.

No matter who does it, or how it happens? Prefer Yours. Hoo. Yeah. Not very deliberately playing my insecurity or anything. Shit, no. That's not fair. She's my Wife, she loves me, and I trust her. Either she's just telling the bald truth, which might be weird, but isn't bad, or she's shading shit, like taking the fact that I want her to like mine best into account and that making it better. I had no fuckin' clue why I was like this. No, that's not true either.

I showed up here a mass of trauma, and life hasn't been entirely kind, even if my partners have done their best do be so. I need to get back to fuckin' therapy. Speaking of... Kitten? Yes, love? When can I get therapy back in my schedule? That got me a sigh, followed by, I'd intended to take us all for a visit yesterday. Before that fucking Spartan assaulted our Darling. You really think the kids ought to be there for my therapy sessions? That got me a sigh from Saffron, followed by a chuckle.

I think it might be best if they see their Mama attending to her needs. They're old enough now, especially Maze, Ria, and Lindsey, to learn from you seeking help rather than 'toughing it out'. But we could also keep them here at home if you prefer. I think she felt me tense, but before she could reply, I thought, yeah, not at the moment. I do kinda want all four of you there. One of us can put up a Blend privacy screen if we need that.

She snuggled in to me, and we lay there for a bit until, not long before we headed back down to the security of the bedroom, she thought, next Sunday, love. Thanks, Kitten. In the morning, as we lay there snuggled in, I nudged Siobhan.

"When's your boss getting here?" Felt all kinds of ways when she smiled at me, rubbed her face against me while she slipped her arms around me and said, "she's already here?" Yeah, lost a bit of time to that, but eventually my brain slipped back to working.

"I meant Canta."

"I'm not sure, he might need me to..." I kissed her. When I pulled away, I thought, Dad? Can you give Canta a lift? Certainly, Daughter. Not long after, Canta arrived, Lyman holding his hand. While Dad led the kids to get up and take turns in the water closet, Canta came over and stood next to the bed.

"Child." I maybe wasn't thrilled at Siobhan twisting around to kneel on the bed and bow her head to him.

"Lord Canta." He huffed out a sigh.

"I'll need you to lie down if you want me to examine the child in your womb." She rolled back over and laid flat as he moved his hands through something not unlike Assess Health. Meanwhile Saffron pulled me over to the far side of the bed.

"Your class is waiting for you, love."

"Class? Really?" She nodded.

"Marie is here. Your father and Lord Canta are here. The doors to our rooms are sealed, and Marie will bring them food." I opened my mouth to argue, but the moment before I did my brain engaged.

"Don't let them see us react?" She smiled and nodded.

"Something like that. Oh, if they're Scrying on the Homestead, which isn't as easy as it might sound, they'll see the Army combing the woods. But... There are other ongoing preparations, and I'd rather anyone Scrying on you personally see that you have a set, boring schedule you adhere to." She paused, then added, "also, I suspect the stability will be good for you. Give you some grounding you desperately need." I took a deep breath.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I might." I leaned down and kissed her.

"Thanks, Kitten." Then I stepped over to where Canta was still examining Siobhan's belly under Hailee's watchful gaze.

"Hey, Darling. I'm headed to work. You stay in here where it's safe, okay?"

"Of course, Tabitha. Go. I'll be fine." So I went. Weirdest thing? By afternoon, after a day of constructively running my new batch of Phileo Cadets ragged? I think I really did feel better.