Chương 933: Day Nine Hundred And Thirty-One

Dear Diary, Got distracted by Menace temple shenanigans yesterday, which totally left the rest of the day as a digression from thinking about how my sense of scale is problematic. Okay, maybe it's not exaclty my sense of scale. It's the scale of me, and...

Shit, there's a word for this, and thinking about stuff stuck in my teeth is appropriate not only because of the whole 'can't get to something stuck in my teeth because all my manipulative digits are the wrong size', and because of the 'trying to remember the word is like trying to find a single granule of popcorn kernel that I can feel with my tongue but not with my finger' sensation. Holy shit, that's it! Granularity!

That's my big problem, or my problem with scale and being big, that I can't properly granularly focus my Awesome Cosmic Power. It's honestly one of the biggest reasons I've had Saffron by my side since that first Season; I'm great at being a sledgehammer, crowbar, or axe, but I'm really not a scalpel, or a screwdriver, or even really a peening hammer. Yeah, I had a brief hyperfixation on being a maker of some kind back in the day. Not sure if there's anybody who never has a phase like that.

Shit, if I think about it, I'm a maker now. Just a maker of edible treats for my family. Okay, now I'm wondering exactly how much of the kids nomming on my creations is from my Skill at making stuff in the kitchen, and how much is me being Mama and them enjoying Mama food because it's comfort food for them. Damn. Not anything in particular. Just general expression of mildly disappointed incredulity. I just realized that my own comfort food, such as it is, doesn't really exist here and now, and possibly never will.

I mean, yeah, pastelillos exist, because I had a jones and Marie made them for me, but they're like super high quality awesome pastelillos, not the cheap shit I gorged myself on when I was mourning my mom's death. Yeah, somehow 'cheap G food' wound up being my comfort food. The kind of shit they keep in the back of the local bodega, that's made out of 'don't ask', 'it wasn't technically spoiled', and 'that broke open the other day'.

One dollar for a pocket of greasy goodness of questionable nutritional value, three dollars for five, ten if I took the complimentary protein shake. Yeah, I had a lot of really bad habits back in the day. Shit, from my current perspective, I'm not even sure they ought to have been considered 'bad habits' so much as 'bad motivations'.

It's not like I was in a committed relationship, and sex work is work, which means paying for a handful of greasy goodness with sexual services wasn't morally wrong in any way I can fathom, but the fact that I did it not because I wanted to stretch my food dollar to just over double what it otherwise have been, or even because the dude was friendly and I wanted to give him a tip by taking the tip, but because I didn't see myself as worth the time it took to brush my teeth or gargling or anything before following my yogurt appetizer with ten loads of slimy meat and greasy pastry is really kinda sus.

Yeah, kinda weird that I've come full circle to where were I in that same situation today, I might take the same actions, but consider it some kind of treat for the bodega owner rather than some kind of potato punishment. Says a lot about how damaged I was. Fuck. Holy Fuck. Divine Copulation.

I'm gonna go find Marie and do things with her entirely because I cannot express exactly how gobsmacked I am by the fact that I can in fact see that I have made progress in the whole 'healing trauma' thing since I got isekaied. Yeah, I know I've had similar revelations before, but the idea that I am not a piece of shit burrowing into Dwayne Johnson's ass is always going to be a little shocking to me, I think.

Okay, if at any point I think 'oh, hey, evidence I've healed' and I'm not stunned by it, I'mma be stunned because I'm not surprised that I've been healing. I guess it's another sign of healing that I consider myself a sledgehammer, crowbar, or axe. Y'know, a tool. Maybe a tool designed for breaking things, but sometimes shit needs to get broke. Sometimes you gotta dig before you can fill, sometimes you gotta cut before you can hammer.

Whether it's removing broken shit like Deities who think sexual assault is a fun party game or clearing old buildings, all of that's got use. Utility. Fuck, I think that might be another thing I have in common with Bonnie; the thought that we're 'useful' is a huge self win for both of us. I mean, the thought that we have a partner who would kill or die to motorboat us, one whom we will require neither for them to bury their face between our tits and go to town with the raspberry action, is another common factor.

The fact that I do that more frequently to Saffron than she does to me doesn't even enter into it. Finding rapturous joy in uninhibited physical contact with our partners is something Bonnie and I both agree on, without even having to put it in words. Even though I just did. Because you can't have a digression without words.

At any rate, I've got a granularity problem, as was made clear to me by the fact that I threw down with one of the most physically powerful Deities in Europa, but had a problem no-selling a single fuckin' Spartan. Not really sure how I'm gonna deal with that, but it's one of my two big limiters, the other being my whole 'one thinking human sized brain for a continental biomass' thing.

So yesterday, after digging a snow tunnel, and while surreptitiously watching over the girls as they worked on Menace's new Temple, I Co-Located down to the kitchen and helped Marie with dinner. I'd been feeling that need for G food, so I not so subtly pelted her with ideas, which she then turned into delicious reality. Pastelillos, of course, but also some slow cooked pork, spicy chicken, meat empanadas, shredded beef, just all my favorite memories.

Yeah, they probably came out better than the originals, but in a competition between nostalgia and Marie's cooking, my mouth was the clear winner. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Okay, everybody's mouths. Because despite some greed that I can no longer blame on my enormous M-space ass, I wanted my family to enjoy the tastes of my childhood. Okay, not the protein shake, although I wouldn't be averse if one of the boys swung by. Or Saffron went boy mode.

Okay, yeah, she's done that to me enough that I really ought to return the favor, I think. So after dinner everybody got a long soak in a warm bath, which put a hard KO on two of the four rammiest kids in the bath, because nothing will knock somebody out faster than hard work in the cold followed by a big protein heavy meal followed by a long hot soak. Put the kids to bed, then snagged me my Murder Mittens and dragged her off to the Bedroom to engage in some Actual Holy Fuck™.

Had a sudden burst of inspiration and deliberately poured some Mana into Gift Ecstasy right in the middle.

"Sorry, Mittens."

"Why?"

"Think you're gonna need to fix the sheets."

"Worth." Yeah. So worth. Gotta remember to do that with Saffron at some point. Preferably with a Stabilize handy in case it's too much. It snowed more today. I think we may wind up snowed in for a while after this. Weird thing, without any real need to do things like 'commute to work' or 'drive to school' or 'leave the bed' except to make food, being snowed in wasn't really much of a problem. Midway through the day, Saffron found me playing chess with Maze.

Okay, mostly getting my ass kicked by Maze, but that's okay. I'm not gonna get pissy with my kids for being better than me at shit. Hell, that's what's supposed to happen, right? At any rate, she waited until the end of the game, then said, "I need to borrow your Mama for a bit, Mazikeen." Maze tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, and smiled.

"Will you play me when you're done?" Saffron paused, thought about it, then nodded.

"Although I think Tallulah might be a better challenge for you. But certainly." While Maze reset the board, Saffron stepped us up to my office.

"Are you..." She stopped, shook her head.

"We should talk about the Spartans." I stiffened up, then nodded.

"Yeah. You heard Dad said there are six watchtowers where the fires have gone out, right?' She nodded.

"Best if we assume all of those are lost to the Spartans. Can he tell you where they are?" Dad? Can you tell which Hearth fires went out? After a brief pause, he responded, I can. Before I could do anything about that, Saffron lay a hand on my arm.

"Do not go yet." I relaxed. I hadn't even realized I'd tensed up.

"Okay. Why not?" She nodded.

"Thank you, love. I think we can assume the Spartans are up to no good. At best they've killed our watchtower personnel, at worst they didn't kill them quickly." I took a deep breath, let it out.

"Okay. So we're absolutely justified in executing them."

"Exactly. Of course if we're wrong, and they've acted counter to their normal behavior, you can feel free to negotiate, but you are justified in executing them. Which will be easiest at dusk." I realized what she meant immediately. If I wasn't thrilled about recreating my Asia Minor Massacre, I wasn't about to give up an edge.

"Okay. Dad tells me where they are, I step to them, kill them. Do we want prisoners?" She tilted her head.

"If you can take one or more, certainly, but..."

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. I just realized that if you did unto them as you did unto Octavio or Oliver Orange, you could in fact capture one or more of them. But nothing short of that will stop a Spartan Hero, and I cannot think they sent any but Heroes on a mission like this." I nodded.

"Okay then. Anything else I need to know?"

"Yes. They're using Cold Iron gear."

"Well. Fuck. I kinda knew that, but it's not happy. More bullshit like Gregor or Calverton, huh?" She shook her head.

"Not exactly. Calverton has the largest Cold Iron deposits in the world. The Spartans don't have as much as Calverton, although they may try to acquire some as part of this 'punitive raid', if that's what it is."

"Punitive? For what?" She just looked at me. Eventually comprehension dawned.

"For those Spartans I killed?" She nodded.

"You made yourself known to Athena. She would have told Ares. He would have told the Spartans."

"Well. Shit. Okay then. So they'll have Cold Iron, but not as much as Calverton?"

"Exactly. For example, the Spartan you killed? His shield wasn't Cold Iron. Just the reinforcing rim around the outside. Most of their Cold Iron gear will be like that. Unfortunately, it's not likely to be as uniform as the rest of their equipment." I shrugged and laughed.

"Nothing's ever easy, right?" Then a thought struck me.

"Any chance you could knock together a Shape to let me detect which parts of their gear are Cold Iron?" She shook her head, but said, "it would be easier to mark the parts that aren't. But that would be," she paused, then broke out laughing herself.

"What?"

"I was about to say 'that would have a prohibitively high Mana cost'. But then I remembered who I was talking to."

"Oh no! My Wife has forgotten about me!" She slow blinked at me.

"I absolutely deserve Penance for that." I pulled her into an embrace, holding her arms to her sides.

"Okay then. Celebratory Penance once I've got all six watchtowers checked out."

"I look forward to it." With that, we returned to the Dining Room, where I'd been playing chess with Maze. Turns out that Saffron is better than Maze, but not by anywhere near as much as Saffron had thought. By the end of the day they'd played five games, with Maze winning two and Saffron winning three. Upon arriving and watching the last two games, Tallulah chose the path of discretion and played me in checkers instead. Yeah, kicked my ass, but that's okay.

My kids and ladies might be smarter than me, but the former are cute and the latter like the way I taste, so it's all good.