Chương 992: Day Nine Hundred And Ninety

Dear Diary, Ow. Fuckin' Ow. Fuck, Ow, Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuckity Fuck, and Ow. Since this whole thing came to a head at New Year's, I don't think I've really 'passed out'. Gone to sleep, sure. Been knocked into a state of preternatural Zen calm by chain Smite, yeah. But not 'passed out and lost track of time and space until my OS rebooted', the way I have so many times. Battle of the Walls was the first one I remember clearly, but I'm pretty sure I did that after my Cure-a-palooza.

Thing is, that ended with me going off on Apollo, getting worked up enough to chase him down on Olympus and shit. Thing is, fear is an emotion. Despair, too. Fuck, I am now in a position to say that pain itself is not an emotion, even if all the fuckin' emotions associated with pain are. Because as my Son dutifully flayed me open, pulled my Soul out section by section, carefully stitched bits of it back together, I felt each and every one of those fucked up pain related emotions surge up, then spill the fuck out.

Which meant I didn't pass out for any of that shit. At some point in the middle of all of it Conrad looked over at me, kinda winced, and said, "I will not take offense if you scream, Mother Dearest."

"Don't. Fuckin'. Wanna." Those may have come out at a higher volume and in much more strident and demanding tone than I'd completely intended, but they were more a series of barks than a scream. That's when I remembered something.

"Get. Marie. Please." He turned to where Saffron stood, one hand on my arm. Apparently Conrad trusted her judgement and knowledge enough to let her do that at this point. Then again, Legendary Archmage. She might know as much about Souls and Shaping as he did now. I'd at least guess that the Venn Diagram of what they both knew would have two relatively equal sized circles at any rate.

"Mom?" She sighed.

"I'll be right back. Co-Locating might disturb things." When she lifted her hand, something whined. Okay, a moment later I realized it was me. I was whining. Kinda weird, I realized that unlike last time, I could still speak. Then again, he'd focused more on my torso than my limbs or head.

In a sudden moment of enlightenment, I realized that not only was my brain very possibly not focused in my head, what with me being a Shapeshifted tentacle, that here in metaphoric space emotions were probably tied more closely to my heart than my head. Mostly though I just whined. A while later later, because between sitting in M-Space and my Soul partially removed my time sense had gone all to shit, Marie and Saffron returned.

Marie just sighed, laid her claws on my temples from behind, and made some of the pain go away. Her claws moved almost continuously, and wonder of wonders Conrad didn't bristle or anything. In fact he nodded, looked over, and said, "thank you, Mother Marie." I realized right then that she wasn't doing the same thing this time. She wasn't just numbing things, she was manipulating my Soul stuff so that Conrad could stitch it together with less stretching, less pain. Trust my Murder Mittens to know about sewing.

Then Saffron slipped her fingers back into the crook of my elbow, and the pain receded further. Of course, with Marie doing her thing, I realized Saffron had tensed up.

"Kitten?" She looked at me. Weird, I realized right then that I was seeing the room behind and around me, pretty much anywhere my eyes weren't pointed, in wireframe.

"Sharing?" She smiled, then nodded.

"As much as I can, love. The less pain you feel, the less tense your Soul is. The less tense your Soul is, the more carefully our Son can repair it."

"Sorry. Son." Conrad chuckled.

"Think nothing of it, Mother Dearest. While pain is often the substance of my art, and I cannot deny I find it exhilarating to inflict, I find myself wishing I could do this painlessly for you."

"Really?" Hard to get that out with the right tone, but he took it as intended. He nodded.

"I must focus on my work, not on your pain, and thus my attention is not fully on it, nor is it delivered with the artistry I might enjoy." The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. I snerked at that. Which hurt. Anger at the pain surged, flooded, slipped away. Maybe slower than previously, but still slipped away.

"Hmm... Do try to remain still and silent, Mother Dearest. Also, try to focus on something less emotionally volatile. I believe if you hit the point where things 'drain out' as you described it, it will stress your Soul sutures."

"Soul sutures?" Saffron asked.

"I've no better name for them. What I'm doing is closer to sewing than stapling or gluing. The former would deal too much damage, the latter likely taint Mother in unpredictable ways."

"What are your 'sutures' made of then?"

"Pared off fragments of our Tabitha's own Soul, of course." Conrad's words could have been dismissive, but they came out distracted. Not that my boy would be distracted, but I appreciated the effort he put into seeming normal.

"Of course." Saffron didn't actually seem surprised by that answer. Then again, even I could figure that not much other than me would be sufficient to bind me, even like this.

"Now, this next bit is tricky, so..."

"Of course, Son." Time is weird in Conrad's Workshop. Weirder than normal for M-Space, even. Where Loki's Cave and the Bedroom and Baba Yaga's Hut things pass in instants or moments or lifetimes or eons or forever, time in my Son's Workshop passes in seconds, in minutes, in hours, in rotations of the planet, in transits around the sun. It's precise in its sense of timelessness. Weirder still, somehow it's not just that.

It's not just seconds, it's seconds per cubic millimeter, minutes per cubic centimeter, hours per cubic meter. There's a sense of constant movement that I don't even notice unless I'm focusing on anything to avoid focusing on the pain. Then again, maybe I was hallucinating. Fucker had my Soul out in sections through the night and most of the way through the day. I would say the pain was indescribable, but here I am tryna describe it anyhow.

Last time, when I had amnesia, he was just pulling it all out and stretching it as big as he could. Kinda like tryna fit Linus and Lachlan simultaneously without any foreplay. Which I do not want to do, just to be clear, because while I am a lusty wench and am fully willing to accommodate my two favorite himbos at once, there's an order of operations to that shit. This time...

Holy fuck this time was a lot like he was putting in gauges along the edges of my flaps and pulling them shut like some kind of vajayjay corset, then tattooing the instructions on my taint. Different kinda pain entirely, and frankly if anyone says they're gonna do something like that, I might just introduce their esophagus to a Mana Blade through their rectum. Fuck. Saffron already said I'm getting piercings at some point. I really hope she didn't hear me thinking about that and get inspired.

Some time near the end of the day Conrad directed The Machine to sew me up. Fucker didn't even bother standing at the controls for that part. Then again, my skin comes with easy perforation lines, especially everything that's not my face. Okay, I'm not sure how many scars I've accrued on the rest of my head. Probably more than I realize, but hopefully not so many that I wind up with bald patches. Then again, maybe I'd get those cool white streaks instead. That wouldn't be too bad.

When The Machine spun me around, Marie and Saffron gently removed the restraints, and Marie scooped me up into a princess carry and quietly murmured, "Two."

"Thank you, Son. We'll be sure to keep you up to date on Tabitha's progress."

"Thank you, Mom. Thank you for your assistance, Mother Marie."

"De Nada." As the cool darkness of Loki's cave surrounded us, I realized that my Murder Mittens had most emphatically not told Conrad he was welcome.

"Not Stupid."

"Wait, fuck, have I been just talking this whole assed time?" Saffron stepped up and kissed me almost long enough for me to forget.

"No, love. Only since near the end of the process."

"Oh, thank fuck. I'd say thank God, but..." Dad picked up what I was putting down, "... I had nothing to do with that. I'll still take the credit if you're offering, though." Saffron helped Marie gently arrange me on Dad's table, then pulled her chair up where she could lay her head near mine.

"If you could Smite her please, Father?" When he raised an eyebrow, she sighed.

"I've been awake all day, and my control is likely not enough to improve the efficiency at this point."

"So be it. Did you want to..." She interrupted him.

"Just do it, please." He brought down the Smite, and all of those little aches in the part of me that didn't properly exist outside of M-Space tightened up. Not like they were tearing, but like sutured skin being pulled gently together, glued, and held softly in place until natural healing was well underway.

"Thans Da."

"Mmmyes. Thank you, Father." He sighed.

"I'll need to be gentle with her, but I think I can do some minor realignment before reinforcing her?"

"Anything that will help her heal." I think I made some kind of grunt of agreement. I'm not sure, but Dad took it as agreement and started his most gentle Soul mauling of me yet. As I lay there feeling things gradually slip back into place, he murmured, "so you're aware, you'll want to do things that help you keep a stable emotional state. Chores. Perhaps cooking? Something where you'll be on a schedule."

"Teaching," Saffron murmured.

"Just so. I take it you've arranged something?" Her fingers gently combing out my hair, Saffron murmured, "I have." A while later, she leaned in close to my ear while Loki worked on my calves.

"Two white tresses, love. One just to your right of center, just below the crown of your head, the other just out of your sight in a mirror to your left, right down near your nape." I realized right then that moving my lips was way too much work. Shit, moving my brain was rough. Thanks, Kitten.

"Oh, and why would I force them shut?"