Chương 338: Day Three Hundred And Thirty-Six

Dear Diary, I know how fuckin' weeb lord this sounds, but I need to find some kind of sustainable inner balance and shit, because while I'm absolutely down for whatever kinky shit my partners wanna pull, I can't keep using Edging and Orgies like Life Orbs and Covert Cloaks. Okay. I totally can keep doing that. Nobody is stopping me from doing that. Hell, Marie and Saffron and I enjoy doing that, to the point where even a Word Nerd like me can say we literally get off on doing that.

But some part of me, the one that doesn't want to suck the gooey insides out of both of them like sweet, sweet candy, thinks that using something intimate like that as a... not coping mechanism, but using it for something other than the enjoyment of shenanigans just isn't sustainable in the long run. Like at some point one of us isn't going to be in the mood, but we have to do the horizontal mambo because otherwise I'll turn into some kind of unholy rage beast.

Or, I guess it's possible that Saffron might be so much in the mood for Tabitha that Marie won't do. Or, y'know, Marie be so much in the mood that Saffron as faux-Tabitha won't do. That's definitely something weird, something I need to meditate on more. Like, the fact that, based on shit they've actually openly said, Saffron and Marie both like me. Like, are into me specifically, because I'm me. Not because I'm Saffron's Goddess, or because I'm a non-Maenad who can rock as hard as a Maenad.

But because I'm Tabitha Diaz. Whatever that means. Girl who literally cannot adhere to The Man's schedule to save her own life. Woman who steals library books and breaks the safety features of her dorm room because she's too bored to do things by the rules. Goddess whose most common moniker has to do with bringing the curtain down on the Gods and all their bullshit. Holy fuck, am I the Incarnation of Anarchy or some shit? Like, not even Mimic me, but fucking Tabitha Diaz? Really?

I'm sure I've joked about that shit before, but doing the looking at myself trying to improve myself thing, all I can see is one long series of sticking it to the man no matter the cost to myself. Okay, there's that whole 'literally sleeping with the Tyrant conquering the Known World' thing, but that's an outlier, right? So yesterday's little tantrum cost us one... no, I'm not even going to give them that name inside my own head.

It cost us the Odin's Triumph, a medium big sailboat that would have carried a hundred troops, twenty or so of them Jarls and the other eighty Volunteers. As it turns out, losing that one ship means we've got an even twenty five Jarls per... big sailboat... with seventy five Crossbow armed Volunteers. That means five Units each, which means no broken up Units.

I'm really glad we hadn't finished our cross-loading yet, because while the Volunteers are mostly Camden Bag or Phileo dock workers who know how to swim, 'mostly' is not 'all', and when you put somebody in actual armoring leather it impedes their swimming ability a bit. So the only dudes aboard the Odin's Triumph right before I disintegrated it were a couple low-tier Jarls tasked with keeping it on station, and they just had to swim over to the Loki's Prize.

But the rest of the afternoon wound up being dedicated to rearranging who was gonna go where. Apparently most of today will actually be cross loading shit like food, and ammunition, and other crap like that. Yeah, it could be done faster, but a big chunk of the Phileo and New Amsterdam ships and all of the Norfolk ships are warships. For the uninitiated, that means 'safety' is like, job three or four. Job one is keeping the damn thing on the right side of the waves, which goes for all ships everywhere, I guess.

Except maybe submarines, although they still need to control which way they're going, they just have the ability to go both ways. I'm a submarine. Who knew? Anyway, job two for a warship is 'bringing hurt to the enemy'. I mean, technically it's probably 'completing the mission' or some shit like that, but we just discussed how I'm not the person who sees stuff in terms of 'missions' or 'orders' or 'coherent'. I see fucked up shit, I wreck it. I see an enemy, I bring the pain.

So given my propensity for going ballistic and using the nuclear option in any given situation? I'm definitely a SSBN. But all of that means that if you want to keep all your sailors and marines and live violent cargo alive and undamaged to throw at the enemy, you need to do everything super slow and careful when it comes to loading your warships up, whether that's loading the troops, their weapons and gear, or even their food.

Long story short, that means it's gonna take all fuckin' day today to get the damn fleet loaded and ready to sail. Last night's Mimic Dreams were, if anything, even more intense than the previous night's. Saffron is definitely taking her whole 'drown Mimic and Tabitha in Happy Brain Chemicals until she loses the ability to rage' duty seriously.

I woke with an overwhelming sense of peace and rightness, one that didn't even shake when I thought about how disappointed I was about the complete lack of sixteen inch wide phallic objects on my big sailboats. I woke to Marie gently stroking my hair, doing the same to Saffron, who lay snuggled into my arms. I wriggled my cheek against Marie's thigh, my near immediate reward a rumbling purr transmitted more through her thighs than the air.

"Good morning, love." That got the purr shaking the air as much as her thigh.

"Love." she half-whispered, as much wonder in her voice as certainty.

"It's true, you know. I love you. She loves you. We love you. Not your sisters. Not what you are. Not what you can do. You. You because you are you. You know that, right?" I felt a little bad, because while I'd meant every word as I said it, overall I'd more filled the air with absolutely earnest lovey dovey noise than something she could agree with or not. Still, after a long, purring silence where her hands alternated strokes between Saffron and I, she whispered, "yes""Does that scare you?"

"Yes." I let that stand for a bit, pondering it. Eventually I asked, "Why?" I immediately regretted the question. Not that I didn't want to know, but because I'd just dumped the mother of all open ended questions in her lap when she already felt less than her normal confident self. I opened my mouth to clarify, to give her something more concrete to work with, but her finger slithered across my lips, and I can take a hint when it's written on a cookie cake delivered by a strip-o-gram.

After a while, she whispered, "change" I surprised myself by not just getting it, but getting it almost immediately and understanding almost exactly not what she meant, but what she felt. I hadn't thrown a fucking tantrum when Mom died and I wanted to stay in Camden because Camden is awesome, or because I had a whole bunch of supportive friends there, or because my LLC could only turn a profit with the government incentives for businesses operating in an 'economically depressed zone'.

I threw a goddamned tantrum because I didn't want things to change. Before Mom died, everything sucked, but it sucked in ways I was used to, and Mom made it better. The first big change in my life was her dying. She'd always been sick, as long as I could remember, but dying? Dying was new. Dying was a change. Dying was something that I couldn't run to Mom to fix. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators! Change was fucking terrifying.

Maybe I couldn't bring my Mom back. Maybe I wanted this change so much it was all I could do not to grab Marie by the scruff of her neck and force that change down her throat, possibly jamming it straight into her stomach using my tongue like a fucking rammer. So maybe I couldn't just leave it alone.

But I sure as fuck could give my beautiful Murder Mittens as much fucking time as she needed to get ready for this change, be there to step back as much and as often as she needed, and fix each and every fucking thing that change might break. Not just all that, but to make the change as perfect as it could possibly be at each step of the way.

"Do you still want it?"

"Yes." I ran my cheek over her thigh again.

"Both of us?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, okay, my Murder Mittens." I had to stop talking when her purring vibrated my jaw through her thigh for a bit.

"So, one at a time or both at once?" She sat there, and for a bit her hands stopped stroking and, instead, made biscuits on our backs. I really hoped she was gentler with Saffron than she was with me, because I am absolutely the right kind of freak to enjoy being mauled, but Saffron was sleeping.

Either she kept her Saffron mauling less intense than mine, or Saffron was secretly just as into that shit as I am, but either way Saffron just wriggled a bit, as if to make sure the coating of maul got evenly distributed across her back. After doing that a bit, Marie went back to stroking us and said, "Both." I nodded, thought a bit more.

"Do you want rings? A ring? Two? Four?"

"Rings?" I thought about it, realized I hadn't seen anything that reminded me specifically of a wedding band or engagement ring since I got here.

"Uh, engagement rings. Or ring. Wedding bands. Or band. An engagement ring is what you give a woman you're going to marry. Kind of, like, a symbol. Wedding bands are what you exchange when you get married. Engagement rings are usually pretty fancy. Gems and shit. Wedding bands are usually plainer; sometimes just a single band of metal. But yeah, they're kinda symbolic where I'm from. Married couples wear them." I chuckled a little.

"I knew some people who wore fake ones as, like, a way to tell people hitting on them to fuck off without, y'know, telling them to fuck off." At that point I realized I'd been rambling for a bit and stopped.

"So. Do you want one?"

"Yes."

"So, a wedding band, or an engagement ring, or both?"

"Yes!" I chuckled a little.

"One each from both of us, or one each from each of us?"

"YES!" At that gleeful roar, Saffron and Menace both stirred, blinking as they started their start up routines. I joined Marie in stroking Saffron's head, running my hand down her face and shushing her.

"Wha.. whasup?" I kept my voice soft, gently shuffling her back to sleep.

"Just talking with Marie about what she'd like, wedding wise. She got a little excited."

"Mmkay." A few moments later, her snores started up again. At the other end of the bed Marie rolled off the bed with Menace, carrying her off to her bedroom. She looked grumpy as fuck, but her eyes fluttered closed as I watched.

"You think we should keep talking about this? Or are you gonna get too worked up to let our Kitten sleep?" At the words 'our Kitten', her purring almost drowned out my words. She looked down at me and smiled; not a sad smile, but one that told me without words that she really wanted to continue our conversation, but would absolutely not be able to keep herself from any more outbursts. Oddly enough, neither of us really thought about moving the conversation to the Love Shack.

I think maybe we both wanted Saffron with us while we talked, even if she wasn't really part of the conversation.

"Sleep." I stretched a little. I wasn't exactly energetic, but I wasn't sleepy either.

"Not sure I can." That's when she slipped a finger in front of my mouth.

"Shh." Then she reminded me that there were, in fact, two more of her in the room, and she was, in fact, both stealthy as shit and strong enough that three of her could keep me utterly still if she needed to. A long time later, after Marie put me to sleep at least twice, but I'm not sure how many times, because my capacity for rational thought had devolved to the point where counting meant 'one, more than one, lots', Saffron stirred despite our restraint.

"How goes the war effort, Goof?" I grinned stupidly at her.

"Marie's distracted me just a lot today." She frowned. Okay, mock frowned, but my Kitten has some serious frowning skills. I felt both a little guilty and afraid, even recognizing her mock frown for what it was.

"Well, get one of you down there then." I am a good and obedient Wife and immediately Co-Located down to the docks, then stepped to where I saw Olga and Swanson chatting at the end of the quay at the end of the docks. Back in the bedroom, Saffron said, "Good Girl. If My Goddess does not object, I'll be watching through her eyes rather than stepping down there myself."

"Sure. Why?" Down on the quay, I waved to Olga and Swanson and said, "hey guys, what's up?" Olga nodded to Swanson, who said, "everything has gone according to plan. Frankly, were I a superstitious sort, I'd worry about too many things going right." In the bedroom I opened my mouth to relay that to Saffron, who sighed and said, "Marie? Do shut her up please." Murder Mittens picked me up by my biceps and shut me up through the simple expedient of licking my tonsils clean.

She's really good at cleaning things, so other than maybe a bit of a secret stupid grin in Norfolk, I kept my shit together.

"You, my love, need more practice at controlling yourself in times of extreme emotion. And I did tell you I wanted cake." I guess you want me to pop down to Drivers' too? Without waiting I popped one of me into Drivers'.

"Hey, Mrs. Driver. Can I get some chocolate cake for the Imperator? She's peckish." Down in Norfolk, I did my best to keep any inappropriate expressions off my face.

"Have we heard anything from the Trolls or Jotnar yet?" Mrs. Driver smiled at me, giggled a little, because I wasn't even trying to keep expressions off the face of that me, said, "I was just about to close up, so here you go," and handed me the remains of the chocolate cake on the counter, plate and all. Meanwhile on the quay Olga whispered, "shit." Swanson nodded, reiterated, "shit indeed. I knew we'd missed something. We should have heard back by now, either that they held the docks or why not."

"So, have we got anyone else who can scout like that?" Swanson shook his head, as did Olga.

"Swanson's right. I think our best bet is father and I in the shallows, the Battleships line abreast between us, with your Phileo ships carrying Crossbowmen just behind them."

"How much will it set us back to rearrange things?" Olga shrugged and looked at Swanson, who said, "we can be ready to advance by noon tomorrow, but we'd best go slowly." Speaking of rearranging, back in the bedroom I'd returned with the cake, set it on the end table, then collapsed back into myself as Saffron slipped down to the foot of the bed, then carefully guided the two Maries there to each lift one of my calves, whereupon she started tickling the bottom of my feet.

I managed to keep everything but a grin off my face as I looked at Swanson and said, "what would our ETA in Calverton be?"

"Normally I'd say we'd be there in good order in one day, but depending on what we face and find, if we move as slowly as I'd like, I'm thinking three to five days. Luckily we've got the supplies for that." I shrugged.

"It is what it is. Leave the Longboats and the Loot Haulers here with our Phileo cargo ships, ready to move out for Calverton as soon our warships clear it." The others nodded to me, and I felt really good about my ability to work despite distractions. So of course Saffron had to ramp up the difficulty by several notches by saying, "Good Girl indeed. Let me know if you need me to step in. In the meanwhile, it's so sweet of you to bring dessert for after, but I said I wanted cake."

I think my eyes down in Norfolk crossed right about then, but I'm not sure, because of course at that point Murphy himself had to join in the entire 'let's max out Tabitha's stress and distraction levels' game. The sun dipped below the horizon, my wireframe vision came into play across every part of the bay not covered by the lights of my ships, and I noticed the one anomaly previously camouflaged on the surface of the green water of the bay. A one armed, one footed Troll slowly, painfully swimming toward the Quay.