Dear Diary,

"Children are not blessed gifts,

That implies they're property,

Children are all people too."

Doctrine of Tabitha, Book of Children

I think maybe people forget that. I guess back in the day, people had a dozen kids so that six of them would live to adulthood, and maybe three would live long enough to support them if they managed to get too old to work without just dying. When you don't know which of them are gonna live out the year, it's hard to invest in them emotionally. I mean, I'd like to think I still would, but I don't know if I could. Not after the second or third time I poured myself into them and they wound up dying. Shit, I think I made my opinion about my own kids dying crystal fucking clear with what they tell me I did to Artemis and her High Priestess.

Shit, might as well just call that 'kids'. Or maybe I just see a kid nearby and think 'mine'. Wouldn't that be a hell of a thing, if I've started kinda claiming every kid in the vicinity as 'mine'. At least in terms of 'nope, bad things don't happen to kids near me, and if they do, I fix them'. Like, I was just watching what was about to happen to Ria, I'd barely had two conversations with the kid at that, and I straight up Kool-Aid-Manned into Tallulah's living room the moment I realized she was in danger.

Wait... is this why I'm a Goddess of Children? I mean, this is absolutely the kind of thing I would want to be. There's that old internet glurge meme about 'be the person you needed as a kid'. Did I need somebody to come smashing through walls and saying 'everything will be fine, because I am here now'? I mean, I think it might be more than that. Maybe I hope it's more than that. But even if it's not, I think I could deal. If my big 'this is who I am, so much so that the fabric of the universe recognizes that' thing is 'I make things right for kids, so they can be kids as long as they need to be, instead of having to grow up when they're thirteen and their fuckin' only remaining parent dies of cancer', I think I can accept that. Shit, I can be proud of that. Proud...

Heh. Almost said I can be proud of myself. I dunno. I dunno if I can go quite that far. But maybe not embarrassed to be me. Yeah, I can go that far. Because at the end of the day, even if I'm not a kid any more, I'm a people too. A fucked up shapeshifting mass of tentacles people maybe, but a people nonetheless. So maybe I get to treat myself like a people. Like I'd treat somebody I was tryna help.

So I spent all of Wednesday night and most of Wednesday morning ferrying Trolls from the Black Dragon to the Questing Tentacle. Y'know, if she keeps naming ships like that, I'm really tempted to carry my Kitten off to M-Space and do some tentacle based spelunking. Fuck, what if she's, like, hinting at that, like her ass has just been all forlorn and lonely like, 'tentacle, tentacle, wherefore art thou tentacle, deny thy Mimic and refuse thy Tabitha, or if thou will not, be but sworn my fascina and I'll no longer be a Kitten ass'. Yes, I read Shakespeare. No, I wasn't all that fond of Romeo and Juliet, although the zombie version was surprisingly entertaining. But seriously, anybody who's been paying attention knows I'm completely down for lewd humor, even better if it's homoerotic lewd humor, and Billy Shakes just loaded his shit full of that good good.

But more importantly, I got to see a Troll! Like, I got to see over a thousand of them as I brought them across from the Black Dragon. Big scaly bois, like almost Marie tall, although not Marie in elevator pumps tall. Way thicker than her, too. Sad to say, my Marie is not a paragon of thiccness. But these bois had them some well turned calves, if I can steal a phrase from Billy again. Okay, I'm not sure if that's one of his, or Chaucer, or one of those other old dead dudes we studied in English Lit. Most of them ran to the dark olive drab green, but a few were a little more colorful. Like, all still green, but some had some emerald to their scales, or aqua, or other non drab shades of green.

The drabbest of them all actually reached out for a handclasp when they came up to me. I guess I looked a little confused, because they said, "it is I, Furtim Cauda. Tribune now, since Calverton!"

I pulled them in for a congratulatory hug, because even if I didn't really recognize them, they seemed like they were proud of the promotion, and somehow wanted to show it off to me. "That's fantastic! So you got more boys under you now?"

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They got a little green at that, but it only took me a moment to realize they were blushing, not seasick. They just kinda smiled sheepishly and said, "maybe."

"Awesome! So the promotion's been good for you then?" They nodded. I stepped them and the other four guys in their squad across to the Questing Tentacle. I'd learned by trial and error that when it came to teleporting live cargo, body mass meant something, and my scaly bois had them some mass. "Cool. Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I gotta get all of you guys here to Rich Man's Port as soon as possible." They gave me one more quick hug, then saluted along with the rest of their unit, then slipped over the side of the ship into the water. Credit where it's due, most of the Trolls went into the water without much visible fuss, but Furtim was absolutely a ghost; not even a ripple that I could see.

I kinda lost count, but by the time I was done I'd moved at least a thousand Trolls. Maybe more. Probably more. My brain tells me like twelve hundred, but my brain has lied to me before, so I don't trust it any further than I could throw it. Which might be further than I think, what with being able to Co-Locate; I could probably rip my own head off and yeet it pretty far before it discorporated, but I'm pretty sure that would suck, so I'm not gonna do that.

Settled in to nap on the back of the Questing Tentacle. I think I heard somebody calling that spot the 'poop deck', and I know that's like one of those nautical terms, but I absolutely am not trusting that either. The ASS Questing Tentacle having a poop deck is just one step too far for your girl Tabitha. I'm sleeping on the stern, and that's final.

Admiral Pesce woke me up around sunset, asking if Karen and I could oversee the evening watches the way Hero Potami and Marshall duBois had done for the daytime. I figured it just made sense, what with me having the super night vision and everything, and Karen apparently having the same via being my High Priestess. Watched all night, basically saw nothing except a really slow moving cloud formation to the east.

When Hero Potami woke up and took over command in the morning, I monkeyed my way up the tallest mast. Kinda surprised myself at how easy it was. Like, I get that I'm in so much better shape than I ever remember being back at Eastside, but I'm, y'know, buff. Normally people as buff as I am don't climb well, because muscle is heavy. I guess if you get strong enough, though, auto-yeeting your way up a mast winds up being no big thing. At any rate, I looked east, missing my binoculars already, but the only thing I saw was trees, trees, trees, a little bit of snow sticking to them at the edge of what looked like an advancing line of frozen precipitation, and more trees coated in snow.

Kitten? You seeing this?

Yes. She drew the word out to several syllables. While I know of several Fae who could do that, I cannot think of why one would do so when it only serves to hamper their own ships. She paused, thoughtful. Perhaps ask your father?

I thought about that for a second, but while I couldn't make sense of it, I certainly wasn't gonna actually second guess my Kitten. Hey Dad?

Yes, oh my Beloved Daughter?

I knew something was up right there, because while he's made his parental affection clear, he's generally not the formally smarmy type. Not with me anyhow. You know anything about this storm front just to the east of me?

I swear, he could do a 'butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' voice even via our mental connection. Storm front? What storm front? I know nothing of any storm front. Perhaps you're thinking of my father, Ymir. Is there snow?

Kinda looks like it.

Oh, well then. Likely Ymir. Though I would know nothing about that.

I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh. Okay, Dad. You were on another continent, and taking a nap, with witnesses watching. Any idea why Ymir would do something like that?

None whatsoever. Oh, I suppose if someone had suggested that someone aboard one of those ships insulted or intended harm to his great granddaughter, and explained in small words how that would imply that he was too weak to defend his family, he might do something like creating a very localized blizzard around those ships. He paused, obviously having difficulty keeping a straight face himself. Not that I would know anything about that. This is all just speculation, you understand.

I couldn't help it, I started snickering. The sailor up here atop the mast with me gave me a look, but I waved him off, shaking my head. Understood, Dad. Just speculation about what horrible things might happen to people who offend storm gods and their relatives. Got it.

Exactly.

Thanks for the, uh, speculation, Dad. You're the best.

I know.