Chương 649: Day Six Hundred And Forty-Seven

Dear Diary, I think sometimes I get caught up in my own head. I definitely get caught up in the day to day, so I don't see why I wouldn't get caught up in, y'know, my own life so much that I don't think about what it looks like from the outside.

Like, on the daily now I've got at least a dozen of me doing chores at the Academy, I'm dressed up in the stripperific version of a ballroom dancer's outfit playing bodyguard and heavy for a head of state, I'm chilling reading random shit from my stolen library while watching my Archmage Wife rewrite reality, I'm chilling at a desk playing door greeter while watching my Concubine literally heal the injured, I'm playing with my horde of kids, and I'm engaged in gentle canoodling with my Maenad Wife.

Okay, yeah, some stay at home parents might play with their kids on a typical day, and there might be a couple who have seven of the ruggers running around, but not too many. I guess now that we've started putting together preschool day care kinda situations the teachers or caregivers might be handling that big of a crowd. That's the thing, though, that vaguely odd part of my life is probably the most normal thing I do in a day. Yeah, doing housekeeping isn't abnormal, but having a dozen of me doing it is.

So those very domestic tasks are the 'normal' parts of my life. The hanging around with a Healer and an Imperator and an Archmage and a normally upright Tigress aren't things folks would consider normal, even here and now. But here's the thing, that's not my 'not normal days', and I don't really think about those not normal days much. Even when I'm tryna come to terms with myself, heal from my trauma, I'll acknowledge those days, but even then I'm thinking about the trauma I accrue.

The pain, the fear, even the shady shit that hurt someone else in ways that nobody should ever enjoy as much as I found myself enjoying them. I don't think about the power. Probably because most of the times when I'm rocking the shit out of the most powerful bits of that power, I'm also riding the raggedy edge of enjoying it way too much for public consumption and doing shit that at the absolute best can be considered 'provoked'.

So yeah, it takes me a little bit to realize not only that folks who've heard about me are going to be simultaneously a tiny bit intimidated and very doubtful that things went down exactly as described. So last night after waiting through sunset with Minster Mamadou in a nicely appointed lounge, Karen got led to an equally nicely appointed dining hall. Well, more of a big fancy dining room.

The difference being a dining hall is clearly intended for bulk feeding of a bunch of different people, whether those are a shit ton of hungry Cadets or a bunch of rowdy Vikings. A dining room is more, y'know, intended to feed one sort of cohesive group. Maybe there will be guests, but it's not mass feeding of random almost strangers.

Right then I wondered what it meant that Lancaster House's dining room always struck me as a room rather than a hall, even when Larry and Bonnie were feeding a shit ton of random Calverton refugees in that room. At any rate, the table was pretty fuckin' cool. A big circle, big enough to seat maybe twenty people, with a sort of fountain in the middle, just high enough for someone seated at the table to reach the sparkling clear water.

Just outside of that was a huge lazy Susan looking ring, then what looked like gold plates and utensils at each setting. The Minister led Karen in and seated her pretty close to the head of the table; just to the right hand of two almost throne like chairs, in fact. Her two assistants wound up sitting closer to the far end. Not sure what that was about, but they'd definitely marked her as the head of the delegation. A few moments after a middle aged couple walked in.

The guy had that mixed look; nappy black hair with really sharp features, his skin a pale, almost dusty black with red undertones. The woman walking next to him looked more like one of the dark skinned African looking folks I'd seen throughout the City. Dark, dark skin, broad features, nice curves. The only odd thing was her hair, which I did not clock as a wig, or even artificially straightened, which hung halfway down her back, absolutely straight, and black as Domnu's skin.

"Mansa Omar, Yakky Aminata, I present the representative of Phileo's Alliance, Ambassador Karen Smith." Before anyone could say anything, Karen quietly yet firmly said, "the Inter-City Alliance, Minister. All Cities in the Alliance stand equal." The guy, who'd responded to the title 'Mansa', nodded.

"Of course. But there's no need to stand while eating, is there?" He smiled and waved to the chair next to the one he'd stepped in front of.

"Sit, sit. We've been working all day, let's refresh ourselves before we speak of politics and business." Karen nodded, polite politically acceptable smile in place.

"As you say, Mansa."

"Please, if we are to dine together, call me Omar." He sat, and Karen did so as well. She'd focused on the Mansa, but behind her the 'Yakky' was absolutely staring at her, face twitching. Weird thing for a professional politician to not have their game face on. Noted. Thank you, Goddess. She kept her reply to a polite, "of course, Mansa... Omar. Please, call me Karen. Titles can be cumbersome and impersonal." At that point the woman beside Omar cut in, her expression rigid.

"You've more Titles than just Ambassador, do you not?" Karen nodded, watching Omar pick up a gold goblet and hold it out to one of the flows of water from the fountain, filling it. Out of the corner of her eye I spotted some folks carrying big bowls of food in and setting them on the lazy Susan, turning it until the first of the bowls rested between Omar and the Yakky.

"I do."

"In the spirit of getting to know one another better, might we know a few, Ambassador?" Karen, who'd just filled her own gold goblet from the fountain, paused it on the way to her lips just long enough to say, "of course, Yakky Aminata." She took a drink, thinking, Goddess, Imperator, which ought I tell them? Before I could respond, Saffron cut in with, High Priestess and Cadet, for now. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Please, Ambassador, call me Ami." Aminata's voice and face remained flat, carefully controlled, with none of the casual good humor of the Mansa.

"Of course, Ami. Please, call me Karen. As for Titles, I suppose the two I'm most proud of would be High Priestess and Senior Cadet." The Mansa and Ami both took what looked almost like tortillas from the first bowl, then the lazy Susan turned to let them use the gold spoons next to their plates to scoop bits of some kind of couscous lookin' stuff from the next couple bowls. Ami's head tilted, the gesture pure theater.

"Why would you be proudest of those?" Karen smiled, the gesture surprisingly honest, as she copied the table manners of her hosts when the couscous bowls came around.

"Those are Titles I worked for. Earned, even. Years of hard work and study to become a Cadet. Far less study, but far more stressful Trials to become a Priestess."

"But you are not simply a Priestess, are you?" Omar used his tortilla to scoop up some thick green sauce from the next bowl, the excess dripping down onto the couscous as he took a bite. Karen followed his example and took a bite; an interrogative feeling was all that came through before she had to focus everything she had on not letting herself react to the searing heat in the sauce. This went way past 'pleasantly spicy'.

It blew right on past 'yearn for the burn' and went right up against 'chemical weapon', but we'd watched Omar scoop the stuff out of the same bowl moments before. As Karen tried every trick in the book to survive the burn without embarrassing herself, Saffron thought, we trust you, Karen. Tell them what you will. I snagged control of Karen's arm as she reached for her water, redirecting it to scoop some of the couscous up instead. Sorry, Karen. Water makes it worse.

With that a wave of serene calm washed over my Highest Priestess. Even when I cannot see her, my Goddess watches over me. After swallowing, she nodded to Ami.

"My full title is Highest Priestess of Tabitha Diaz, Patron Deity of the Alliance." If I'd thought Ami was tense before, that rammed a rod straight up her ass.

"Highest?" Karen just nodded and took a much smaller bite of the next dish, a yellow curry looking thing. Still hot, but nowhere near as bad. Typical Indian curry hot, maybe. Ami very carefully did not cock her head like she was listening to someone, but with no need to worry about shit like 'not spitting out my food' or 'remaining politely attentive', I noticed it.

"Would you share with us the story of how you came to acquire such a lofty title?" May I, Goddess? Karen, Saffron already told you. We trust you. I, uh, might react some kinda way if you get too graphic with the details of New Years though. Karen barked out a small laugh at that, covering it by saying, "of course, Ami. Although some details might seem salacious to less understanding ears." Omar cut in at that point, his eyes sparkling.

"Please. We are all adults here. Perhaps when the tale is done I'll speak of our, ah, 'whirlwind romance'." Ami rolled her eyes at that, but Karen asked, "the two of you are married, then?" Omar shrugged, but Ami replied, "of course. It is custom for the Mansa and the Yakky to wed. I thought you would know such things?" Karen nodded.

"Compton was not my area of specialty. My advisor will probably wear my ear off because I forgot that part of his briefing when we return to our ship." Somebody down at the other end of the table sounded like they'd just inhaled a shit ton of the green sauce at that.

"But as for how I became Highest Priestess, the tale probably starts with my classes last Spring."

"Probably?" asked Ami. Karen smiled.

"Stories are living things, and it's always hard to sort out exactly where they begin or end, is it not?" Before Ami could do more than nod, Karen launched into her story. She talked about how her initial impression of me was a lazy delinquent sitting in the back of the class half asleep. How she'd struck sparks with Saffron, slipping into the role of rival, even thought Saffron had already won in any meaningful sense of the word.

She told them how she'd researched me at first as a way to find some edge on Saffron, then realized that, if anything, it was Saffron riding my coattails rather than the other way around. My cheeks warmed at that, and Marie nuzzled me where she sat on my lap while I focused on Karen's story. I glanced over to see Saffron and Siobhan watching me as well.

"What? She's got it backwards. I'm just the shimbo muscle." The three of them all laughed and went back to eating, so I focused on Karen again. She told the whole fuckin' story of the Escort Mission, miming stabbing the shit out me while Omar and half the table lost their shit laughing. Ami looked a little scandalized, but a smile peeked through even on her. Karen described researching the Smite Spell, then observing as Saffron made that Spell Global.

She then talked about stuff I'd never realized, even though if I'd thought about it I knew it must be true. She talked about long nights spent researching me; Academy records, General Lancaster's notes, interviewing Marshall duBois, she'd spent a stupidly long time on that. But then, I guess burning through my Blend by pure nerd took a while. Finally, she told of confronting me, of being pulled into Conrad's Workshop, of being interrogated and instructed by Saffron.

I wept when she spoke of Healing the Undead of Calverton, because I never really realized how many of the bodies just never got back up. I'm pretty sure she was a little less than fully explicit about her time with Marie, both fighting her and fucking her. I sent some warm, accepting vibes through our link as she described the latter, and she seemed to appreciate that.

She finished up the story with a description of her day with our horde hoard, running them around Lancaster House, eventually winding up in the bedroom 'demonstrating self-defense techniques' for the High Priestesses of Dionysus. By that point Ami, who'd pretty much finished up eating a while back, got a curious look at that and asked, "I've heard of the Maenads. Did they really need such instruction?" Karen smiled and shook her head.

"Oh, no. Not the Maenads. There were some there, and some may have been Clergy of Dionysus, but I speak mainly of his Mortal Clergy." She shrugged.

"Some of them probably knew how to defend themselves already, but it seemed like a good way to keep the most boisterous of my Goddess' children occupied, while also giving the rest something amusing to watch." Ami poked at her plate for a few moments, clearly done eating, until Omar sighed and said, "go ahead." Ami nodded, then turned her full attention back to Karen.

"I trust you enjoyed your meal as much as we enjoyed your tale?" Karen smiled, "it's truly been an experience."

"Mostly pleasant, I hope?"

"Oh, yes." Karen let some of her embarrassment at her reaction to the super spicy sauce leak through.

"That one green dish was surprisingly... intense. Not at all what I'm used to. Everything was fantastic, though." Ami nodded, acknowledging that Karen had passed the 'at least she won't throw a fit and ruin the barbeque' test. Funny how few of the non-local teachers back at Eastside passed that one. Anyhow, after looking thoughtful for a few moments, Ami asked, "does your Goddess know aught of the... things that have infested the spirit world of late?"

At that point I was super glad Karen was in her own driver's seat, because she managed to seamlessly merge 'diplomatically polite' and 'what did you just say, bitch', both on her face and in her tone.

"She knows much regarding M-Space." At Ami's head tilt, she clarified, "the spirit world."

"Is she responsible for the... Intrusion, then?" May I? Karen, do I need to put you in boy mode and sit on your lap to really get 'we trust you' into your brain fully? Karen barely kept the mental giggle off of her face and out of her voice when she said, "in the spirit of peaceful sharing of information between neighbors?" She leaned forward as if imparting some big secret.

"she is not 'responsible for' what you have seen intruding in the 'spirit world'. What you have seen there? My Goddess, Tabitha Diaz, Patron Goddess of the Alliance, who is also Mimic, Walking Ragnarok, Black Swan with a thousand, thousand young? That is her."