Chương 722: Day Seven Hundred And Twenty

Dear Diary,"Results always matter too, Don't get it twisted around, Still have to clean up your mess." - Tabitha Diaz, Doctrine of Tabitha, Book of Agency Verse Seven of the Book of Agency reminds us that even if our Goddess is concerned with our motives, our intent, that does not exonerate us from the consequences of our actions. It can be easy to fall into the trap of thinking that because She cares so deeply about our motives that She does not concern herself with our actions and the results thereof.

Our Goddess reminds us here that while motives matter, and intent is important, we remain responsible for results and consequences must still be accounted for. - Priestess Most High Above All Others, Archmage Imperator Saffron Aetos-Diaz, Commentary on the Doctrine of Tabitha Huh. Yeah, I think I wrote that. Pretty sure I remember it. Shit, I'm definitely getting to the parts of the Doctrine I wrote while dealing with Ria's Blessing.

It's weird, my memory is normally pretty shit, and I'm the first one who will admit to it, but I still remember, y'know, big strokes when I think about it. My core memories do not evaporate, shit's just a lot easier to remember when it's stuff with some emotional impact. Like, I still kinda remember the first time Marie made sushi for the fam, when that meant just me, her, Saffron, and the Menace.

I remember little details like Menace tryna get the extra trays out, then tryna climb into Marie's cart when she realized the trays were too big for her to get them out. Because that shit just kinda seared itself into my brain as utterly adorable and right and precious, I guess. Meanwhile, I'm not sure what we had on what day back in my early days at the Academy, even though I'm pretty sure they had a sort of weekly cycle going on with their high quality bland Dan food.

That's something I've come to realize, by the way, that Dan food isn't by definition bad, just kinda bland. Some of it, like Lancaster waffles, which aren't meant to be super spicy or anything, but rely on texture and basic flavors like sweet and savory, is even pretty baller. No, I have not been replaced by some kind of Shapeshifting horror or something. I'm still Tabitha, still the same old Shapeshifting horror I have always been, but I think I'm growing up, mellowing, learning to appreciate subtlety maybe.

Don't get me wrong, I still love me my spicy eggs and jalapeno scrapple, but on one hand I get that not everyone does, not everyone is going to, and that's okay. Both in the 'more for me' sense, and in the 'variety is the spice of life'. Yeah, Frank Herbert is proof that sci fi authors are all nerds who think puns are funny. But as I was saying, the memories from amnesiac Blessing time are fuzzier than normal. Maybe the emotions were kinda jank because I didn't have my earlier memories to link them to.

I'm not sure. But for whatever reason, I don't really remember writing this the way I kind of do some other Verses. I mean, I 'kind of' remember it, but that's not the same. That could be me reading it and remembering some other verse I wrote and just mixing that shit up like ice cream at one of those boutique ice cream shops where the dude chops that shit up and mixes in two kinds of ice cream, four kinds of candy bar, and six kinds of syrup, and barely spills any in my hair while he's doing it.

You don't think I could afford that shit back then, do you? At any rate, Saffron's Commentary on this one is straight up more poetic than my original Verse, at least in my opinion. I'm not sure exactly why I think that, either. It just flows easier. Then again, when I read hers I can pay full attention to the words themselves without being low key distracted by turbulence south of my personal equator. Funny, but it kinda illustrates the Verse.

Doesn't matter what the intent was, you still gotta deal with the consequences. Yeah, I figured I'd close my eyes and smile beatifically while my four Worshippers quoted scripture at me. I did not expect dozens of Clergy and temple volunteers, not to mention literally thousands of dedicated Worshippers who apparently aren't there exclusively for the orgy. Seriously, some of them actually watch what's going on like it's special.

I mean, it is, to me and to the person I'm with, but I do not get why it would be special for somebody sitting in the stands. Never really got into spectator sports, I guess. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. So yesterday, along with teaching Math and sitting with my girls and sort of meeting their friends, I also put together something for our newest housemate.

Took Marie and I a couple tries to get it right, but fortunately fucked up attempts at crunchy flatbread are pretty easy to turn into croutons. When dinner time rolled around and everybody hit the dining room, I realized that the girls had gotten into the habit of watching with bated breath when I brought out dinner. I guess it's a testament to how far I've come cooking wise, although I am absolutely uncertain whether my food would even be edible without Marie there calling the shots.

Yeah, I did it for a bit on our honeymoon, but some of that shit came out awful, and a lot of the rest wound up at least half made by the other Maenads. At any rate, the poorly hidden look of dismay and maybe even betrayal on Ria's face when I whipped the cover off a big charcuterie board with flatbread, a selection of sliced cheeses, and three big shaped lumps of pate; fish, chicken, beef, and of course bear.

Shaped like kid's drawings of fish, chicken, cow, and a big old bear, because yeah, we still had a lot of that shit around. I might have kicked the seasoning up a notch from Rich Man's Port's 'lightly salted almost raw meat' to something a little closer to a nice rich braunschweiger, but the texture and basic flavor palette were as close as I could get to my memory of Karen's memory of the stuff Tallulah's kitchen served.

When I pulled the lid off the big pot of chicken soup with matzoh ball like dumplings floating in it, her face fell further. Then I caught her eye, and she deflated a little further, I guess realizing that I'd seen her reactions. She's a good kid, doesn't want me to know I'd disappointed her. Then I winked at her and pulled the cover off the platter of paninis. Dejected to elated in zero point zero seconds flat. The big bowls of salad just sealed the deal. She ran over and hugged me.

I hoisted her up and whispered, "can you show the other girls how your mom usually served the pate and stuff?" She looked a little pouty, but said, "yes, Mama." I nudged her with my nose.

"Hey, kiddo. I didn't say you couldn't have paninis and salad for dinner. But you grew up on this stuff, right?" She nodded.

"The other girls might want to, I dunno, find out what their sister's childhood food was like." She rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

"Do I have to eat it, though?" I shrugged.

"Not unless you really want to. Although Marie and I did try to kick it up a notch." She got a speculative on her face, then wriggled free and headed over to her sisters. I turned away from here to find Tallulah standing there, plate in hand, looking at the spread. She cocked her head, looked at me, and said, "I was under the impression my table had not impressed your High Priestess. Or you." I shrugged.

"Not what I grew up on. Also not sure I did it right. But I figured everybody ought to get something they like, something that reminds them of home now and then." She blinked, then turned to load up her plate. She took way more than normal Rich Man's Port portions; a few slices of each cheese, at least a couple tablespoons of each pate, and enough flatbread to nosh all of it. She took the plate back to her seat, then returned to scoop up a bowl of soup and another of salad before returning to her seat.

I kinda followed her example, because while I'd taste tested stuff while making it, I hadn't really eaten all day, and I kinda wanted to see how she ate it. So I watched her and copied what she did, starting with the salad, then using the flatbread kind of like an edible utensil. Used that way it provided a really neat and needed texture contrast with the soft pureed meat and the smooth solidity of the cheese.

Not exactly a taste sensation or my new go-to meal, but I definitely saw where somebody could get used to it. Kinda funny; when I glanced over at the girls, Maze was grilling Ria about the 'right way' to eat the 'fancy stuff', Lindsey and Daya had both filled part of their plate with crackers, cheese, and pate, looking like they'd split a panini for the other half, and Menace...

"Isnomi Aetos-Diaz, you are not supposed to coat your hands and lick them off."

"Bud nobody elth wanned a led me lick theyah handth." I glared at her until she got a sheepish look and said, "sowwy, Mama."

"Just try to keep the mess to a minimum, okay Menace?" When I turned back to Tallulah, she'd leaned her chin on one hand while she watched the girls. Saffron nudged me, then whispered, "thank you, love."

"For what?"

"Showing her." The clue still hadn't landed, although I knew one was out there.

"What?" Saffron laughed, shook her head, then hugged me, nuzzling in and whispering, "that this is her home now, too." Then Siobhan floored me by saying, "that she has a home now. Not just a place to sleep." Yeah, that definitely threw me for a loop. Spent the rest of the night cogitating over that. Of course, none of those were the best Rich Man's Port food related discovery of the night. Pride of place for that was Siobhan's discovery that neither my bear pate nor my chicken soup actively made her pukey.

She still felt miserable, and wound up retching a bunch in the morning, but now she just felt nauseous and miserable, rather than nauseous, miserable, and starving.