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Diary of a Teenaged Mimic
Day Four Hundred And Seventy-Six

Day Four Hundred And Seventy-Six

Dear Diary,

"Do not kill if wounds will do,

Do not wound if pain will do,

Do not hurt if fear will do."

Doctrine of Tabitha, Book of Justified Homicide

Yeah, I've read variations on that one in a couple places. Fantasy novel about some sick old rapey dude, comic book about some bondage chick, hell I think I saw it in an anime once too. But the whole deal boils down to 'don't escalate further than you have to'. Something tells me that in a world where Souls are real things that killing isn't exactly the ultimate escalation, but it's still pretty fuckin' high up on the list. 'Kill them' shouldn't be the default setting on the response-o-meter, no matter what the Queen of Hearts says.

Speaking of monarchs and hearts, yesterday after Saffron and Marie enacted their dastardly yet you don't see me complaining plan, we lay there on the hillside ignoring how the moisture from the plant life we'd mashed and the soil we'd gotten liberally caked all over ourselves was kinda chilly. Saffron traced my scars with her finger, leaving dirt lines from where she'd clutched at the ground in lieu of sheets at one point. "You know, I think you've actually fought four Dragons, technically."

"Don't tell me I tried to throw down with my own ship or something equally stupid?"

"Wha? Oh, no, I don't mean the Black Dragon. I mean from what I've heard, during a summoning duel down in Norfolk your opponent summoned up a Dragon."

"Like, a little one, or..." She shook her head. "How the fuck did I deal with that?"

"The spectators were unclear. One moment it breathed flaming acid over your Wards, nearly killing some bystanders in the process, and the next it had been crushed as if by an enormous tentacle and thrown into the sun." She lay her grubby little hand on my cheek and said, "given that those injured spectators included a woman with an infant child, I suspect you took exception to the Dragon's sloppiness. You certainly ended any desire anyone in Norfolk had to duel you when you ended your opponent."

"Uh... do I know how to summon stuff, too?"

She laughed. "You called your mother and set her on him."

"Why do I not think you're saying I dropped Sigyn's glorious dump truck of an ass on his head?"

Marie snorted at that one, and I held up a hand for and received a high five. "Because you did not in fact summon Sigyn. Nor your birth mother from your world of origin. No, love, you summoned Mimic's Mother. Domnu. Mor Primordial of Darkness."

My brain slid to a stop. "I did what?"

"From what you told me at the time, you summoned her up, bested her in single combat, threaded your tentacles through her very being such that should you wish it, you could kill or control her with a thought, then you had her turn your opponent into... what was the phrase again, Marie?"

"Sloppy."

"Yes, thank you!" Saffron leaned over and gave Marie a quick kiss, then turned back to me. "Sloppy meat chunks."

"Where is she now, then?"

Saffron shrugged. "I'm certain you could tell if you reached for her, but last time you did you discovered her playing with the paramour you introduced her to. I think your words were 'brain bleach, brain bleach, that's bigger than she is, that shouldn't fit, brain bleach'."

"Bigger than she is?"

Saffron nodded. "He's a Jotnar. A giant, like Loki, only exceptionally blessed in the manhood department. And she is Sigyn sized. And shaped, amusingly."

I just shook my head. "The more we talk about it, the more I think that if shit goes down, I'm not gonna be anywhere near as badass as you... as I ought to be."

"We'll see. Ready to get back to work?"

We spent the rest of the afternoon, right up until the sun touched the horizon, cutting, melting, forming, placing, and Bonding rock. Actually the last few big plates of rock we didn't even place or bond, just left them stacked up like the world's biggest dominoes. I didn't ask, because I'd gotten a little into my own head about maybe not being the engine of destruction the Alliance, and more importantly my little family needed when push came to shove.

Not even the three of us taking turns speedrunning Siobhan into sleepy satiation could shake that feeling.

Fuck, even felt some kinda way while dreaming, despite my dream ladies' best efforts. Somehow the popsicles felt like miniature blizzards, the pasta squirmed in ways that made my mouth and lady bits water, and the soup dumplings ruptured orgasmically, despite that adjective not normally applying to foodstuffs.

Woke up out of sorts, but tried my best to keep that from the little ones and the others. Don't think I succeeded. Not only were the kids particularly rammy by the time we let them go, Devorah and Anna teamed up to ambush us in the living room. Politely, but still ambushing. "Imperator, the ladies would like to know when we'll be able to join you working on our new home?"

"A few more days at most. We're dealing with a few potential problems." When Devorah opened her mouth, Saffron cut her off. "Of a nature that might challenge Marie." Devorah's mouth shut with a snap. The two of them didn't look happy, but they didn't argue, either.

Breakfast wound up being red meat heavy, which I appreciated, what with Siobhan still not being nearly as faint-proofed as I wanted her to be.

When we got to the homestead, after I melted down enough rock to fill another four big molds, Saffron called out, "Tabitha, come here please?" from the courtyard.

I thought about putting my coat and shirt back on, but even with a slight chill in the air I'd still broken a light sweat with all the Mana working. I stepped over to find Marie standing about half the courtyard away, facing the two of us. "What's up?"

"I am fully confident that should you need to, as you put it, 'wreck someone's shit', you will be able to, but I think you may need to realize that as well, or you might over or under react to something the Fae come up with. So... Marie?" Saffron stepped to the side of the courtyard. "Begin."

I barely saw Marie coming at me in time to duck under her swipe. My eyes might still see an albino Macrophage with gorgeous pearly whites and drag queen fingernails, but my brain registered that those hands were claws that would put any tiger to shame, and her mouth was in fact full of fangs. I'm not quite sure how long I ducked, dodged, dipped, and dove, but by the time she managed to get one hand around my forearm, enough sweat drenched me that she couldn't manage to keep a grip on me. Eventually, her Maid outfit looking a lot worse for wear, she lunged at me, and I managed to get a grip on both of her forearms, let her roll over me, and slammed my knees painfully on either side of her as she landed on her ass and shoulders. She lunged toward me, mouth open...

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

And I turned my head to the side, bearing the four circular white scars at the juncture of my shoulder and neck.

She froze with her teeth pressed to those four points, then ran her tongue across my skin. Then she pulled away, head bunted me maybe a little more energetically than affection called for, followed by a frustrated sigh. She turned to Saffron and said, "duBois."

Saffron slumped. "I'd hoped to avoid telling him." When Marie shrugged, then went back to licking my shoulder, she sighed and said, "I'll be right back."

"No hard feelings?"

Marie pulled back, lifted an eyebrow, then flipped us over so she straddled my leg. Her gaze locked to mine, she reached behind herself and took a gentle yet inexorable grip on my calf. "Soft." Lifting my leg by the calf, she slipped forward inch by inch, purr-growling the whole time.

"Why am I here again?" a deep voice startled me out of my hypnotized staring at my tiger lady's eyes. I jumped upright to see an absolute unit of an older dude standing there wearing an Academy uniform. He looked... okay, if you've seen Ted Theodore Logan and John Wick? Imagine doing whatever was done to Ted to turn him into Wick, but starting with Jack fuckin' Black. Like, yeah, obviously friendly, goofy guy buried somewhere under there, but also obviously a dude on a danger level with Marie, maybe. Which totally had me weirded out, since because while I had years of experience on the streets of Camden to guide me in determining 'dangerous', I had never been able to really quantify it in even that nebulous kind of way.

"Marshall, you are about to be told information which, to this point, has been entirely confined to the High Clergies of Mimic and Tabitha Diaz herself. It is a secret which could imperil the safety of the Alliance, her Cities, and her People."

The Marshall looked around at our homestead, then said, "yeah, kinda figured, with you pulling me out here in the middle of nowhere, that either I was gonna be executed, seduced, or things had gone sideways."

Saffron smiled at him, the kind of smile that would make lesser men wet themselves, and Marie and I wet. "Oh, Marshall. Should I believe you merit execution, you will have a full formal Court Martial, and should you be found guilty and sentenced to death, given your decades of faithful service, it would be done in whatever manner you wished. And you aren't scheduled for seduction for at least another few years. No, we've called you here because a Fae of Rich Man's Port has cursed Tabitha with amnesia." She held out a hand, forestalling the Marshall's questions. "We and her Clergy have worked to restore her memory to the point where she's no longer a danger to the Alliance or herself, but," she sighed, the gesture pure theater. "She doesn't believe that she is, in fact, a danger to our enemies."

I watched him mouth the words 'not a danger' before he shook his head and said, "wait, what was that you said about..." Saffron interrupted him by throwing a quarterstaff at him. I missed his response, since she'd thrown one at me, too.

"Tabitha, the Marshall is the one who first taught you Close Quarters Combat. He is acknowledged as one of the most dangerous single combatants in Atlantis." She turned to him. "Marshall? Hurt her. That is an order of your Imperator."

The man did not fuck around. He came at me, that quarterstaff arcing right down at my head. I deflected it, moved into my whole dodge, duck, dip, dive routine, only this time with deflection in there too. Of course he got pissed or bored or whatever way faster than Marie, and a moment after I evaded his latest assault another quarterstaff almost took my head off. It did clip the side of my head and ring it like a bell; I stepped to the far end of the courtyard, at first thinking I was seeing double. A moment later both of them were on me, and I realized that he absolutely was doing his dead level best to do unto me.

I... might have gotten a little bit pissed. Not sure why. Maybe it was some dude old enough to be my grandpa coming at me with no more hesitation than me nomming snacks. Maybe it was getting my bell rung. Maybe it was Saffron announcing her intent to intent with the dude right out in the open, although honestly that was kinda hot. But for whatever reason, something snapped.

A half dozen of me came at each of him, ignoring the feedback whine and the sudden tunnel vision and the weird pins and needles. He spawned another of himself, and I immediately spawned another three of me, keeping him outnumbered five to one. The universe narrowed to a constant staccato clacking and grunts as he pulled off some absolute bullet time shit to avoid me clobbering him. Then I shifted so that four of me held two of him back, and the other seven ganged up on the last of him. Toes, fingers, shins, knees, elbows, arms, thighs, crotch, gut, and finally all seven of me rapped him atop his noggin in quick succession. When the seventh hit he crumpled and disappeared.

He looked dizzy but redoubled his efforts. Which didn't fucking matter when ten of me swarmed one of him. Finally all fifteen of me assaulted the last of him, although this time I concentrated on the backs of his joints. Elbows, knees, wrists, and ankles. Before long I got a quarterstaff between his legs and, when he clamped his thighs together, twisted it, toppling him to the ground. I dogpiled him, grabbing his legs and right arm. He managed to keep the left one free, and I dropped one of me onto his chest, straddling his neck. I pulled back my fist, and his left arm came down on the me that had been trying to immobilize it, slamming me to the ground and smashing my tits in the bargain. Fucker had big fuckin' hands. Not Marie big, but big enough to smash both of them at once.

I punched him in the forehead. "That fuckin' hurts!"

"I'm tryin' to fuckin' surrender, Diaz!"

"Oh. Sorry about that." I collapsed back to the one of me straddling his face, somersaulted forward off of him, and bounced to my feet. By the time I turned around, he'd gotten back to his feet, and was rubbing at his forehead with one hand.

"I dunno if you're quite up to where you were when you killed Gregor and Ericson, but you sure as shit can beat me, which puts the list of people who can go head to head with you at maybe a dozen in Atlantis, and none of them are from Rich Man's Port." Oddly enough, the dude didn't look pissed at all that I'd just beat the shit out of him. The opposite, really.

"Thank you, Marshall."

"Wait, didn't I hear..."

"Marie, please get the Marshall to the Infirmary. I'm sure you and Siobhan can see to his needs."

Before he or I could say anything, a grinning Marie appeared next to him, took him by the hand, and they both disappeared.

I stepped over to Saffron, definitely on the edge of feeling some kinda way. "Did you or did you not just tell our Concubines to bang a dude old enough to be our grandfather?"

She huffed up at me. "Oh, please. He is barely old enough to be our father, and only then if he'd had us when he was younger than we are now. Also, even if he were, Marie is older than all of us put together. And I would never give any orders to our Concubines. You, and please note that I agree completely with your decision in this, have been very clear that anything they do or is done to them is with their Consent. Enthusiastic Consent, preferably."

I let out a long, slow breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Thanks, Kitten. I..."

"Besides, Siobhan doesn't like men that way. But Marie doesn't do Healing, and I'm certain the Marshall will appreciate the trust and favor we've shown him by placing his healing in the caring, not to mention cute, hands of our very own Concubine."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess..."

"And he'll certainly appreciate when Marie uses him to relieve all the tension you built up in her with your flirtatious sparring earlier. By fucking him, not fighting him, just to be clear."

"I... but... you didn't, huh? Why?"

She smiled up at me. "Because she is Marie, greatest among Maenads, a veritable icon of violence and sex. I believe you referred to her as 'Queen of the Murderfuck Cult'. Not that I want her to murder him. Not that I think she will. I really hope she doesn't. He's a very good Marshall, I'd hate to have to find another."

"How can you just sit there talking about that so calmly?"

"Do I look... calm?"

I stopped, looked down at her, and realized. "No. No, you actually look kinda. Um. Horny."

She stepped over, slipped her hands around my neck and said, "yes, love. That I am. As you once said to a Devorah, she is your Concubine and Fiancé, not your slave. Not your property. What she does she does out of hunger and for the pure joy of it, not for any other reason. Now... how do you feel about it?"

"Uh... Jea... no. Envious?"

"Of him? Or her?"

I thought about that for a split second before saying, "yes?"

She laughed, the sound pure joy echoing around our under construction homestead valley. After a moment I snuggled my arms around her waist and laughed with her, because that kind of happiness from someone you love is just infectious. Then she pulled her mouth up to my ear and said, "So, do you want to retire to our boudoir and watch through her eyes, or get up to our own shenanigans?"

I didn't even need a split second to think about that. "Yes."