Dear Diary,

Today's Devotional day wound up being a little weird. Since I'd gone to visit last week, Lyman showed up today. He didn't wake us though.

Last night I dreamt of lying there staring at the stars again. In that weird kind of dream logic, I knew my mother lay out there, between and beyond them. I pondered that, looking for her, psychedelic tadpoles nibbling at the bits of me in the water, until I woke up.

I lay there between Saffron and Marie, although that's a little misleading, since Marie had wrapped herself all the way around both of us, doing that croissant shape cats will do, completing our Marie perimeter with her tail hooked around down by our feet. Somebody pounded on our door, and the moment I realized it was neither of the two people who normally knock on the door, and Lyman normally managed to make his knock sound snarky somehow, I jumped to my feet. Saffron wouldn't be fully operational for like sixty seconds, and I already felt the subsonic rumble of Marie's annoyance; I didn't know if a Maid would get in trouble for getting annoyed, killing somebody, and dropping them in the stew, but I really didn't want to find out.

I have to eat the stuff she cooks, and what if it was Lancaster knocking. Ew.

Still, managed to hurdle the baby fence without faceplanting, and pulled the door open just enough to see through. The moment I did Grandma Aetos pushed her way into the room, making me stumble backward, trip over the baby fence, and land flat on my ass on Marie's tail. Both of us must have gotten the same kind of surprised annoyed slightly pained look at the same time, because Isnomi giggle-crowed at us. "Ma! Ma Ma!"

For her part, Grandma took one look at the room and all of us tangled up in the middle of it, rolled her eyes, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind her. "This one woke me up wanting her mama."

I looked up at her from my undignified position on the floor and asked, "hasn't Saffron been pumping?"

She glanced down at me, then looked at Saffron, who'd come awake quick when she heard Isnomi, and said, "I see why you like this one now. More tits than brains."

"MA!" Saffron shouted just as I blurted out, "hey!"

Grandma cackled. I don't know how old she actually is, but she's got enough Crone Points to get a good solid cackle on. In between the worst of the cackley bits, which Isnomi of course started imitating, she said, "she didn't want food, she wanted mama." She got to the baby fence and leaned forward a little, holding Isnomi out to me. Before I could do more than crunch a little to get my arms out in front of me, the little maniac planted her feet on Grandma's chest and leapt out of her arms, going full on flying squirrel at me. Arms and legs splayed out, shrieking with glee, utterly without the slightest doubt that one of us would catch her.

I managed to get my hands around her with my arms straight in front of me, and rolled backward as I pulled her to me, trying to keep her from slamming any part of her into me too hard. Grandma gasped as four white, furry fingers slid in between our faces, cushioning our meeting of the minds just a little more. The moment after Isnomi and I hit the padded floor, Marie slid her fingers back out from between us, giving me a six inch view of the crotch goblin blinking, shaking her head like she needed to rattle her brains back into place, then crowing and flopping herself around to crawl pell-mell towards the baby fence and Grandma standing just beyond it.

For her part, Grandma shuddered a little as she glanced surreptitiously at Marie, then clucked at Saffron and I. "You spoil her."

I knew the answer to this one. "Like you do. She's a kid. They're for spoiling as much as you can." After three months of duBois, I could kip up with the best of them on a hard surface, but the fluffy footing of our padded cell made it just plain easier to roll over and push myself up to my knees before standing. As I did, I stretched away the last of the night's sleepiness away.

Right as I got about halfway through that, my arms stretched in front of me, my butt sticking up in the air, Grandma replied with, "more ass than brains too."

That got another, "MA!" out of Saffron, but I just uncoiled to my feet, turning to face her, noticing as I did that Isnomi had given up on reaching over the fence to get Grandma, and was hand-over-handing her way down the fence toward the bed.

"At least Saffron likes me," I grumped at her. She showed me the likely source of that grin of Saffron's, reaching one hand out to pat me on the cheek. "Didn't say I don't like you." Then she managed to reach up just enough to ruffle the front of my hair. "If you had more brains than tits or ass you'd know that." Then she turned and left, still chuckling, as I stood there gaping.

"Did... did your Grandmother just call me a bimbo?"

Saffron used me like a ladder to pull herself to her feet, gratuitously groping my ass and tits while she did. "It's okay, love. It's what I think that matters, right?"

I turned around, shrugging, pulling her to me. "Yeah, you're right."

She nodded. "Of course I am. You're not just a bimbo, you're a magnificent trophy wife."

I spun away, histrionically waving my hands in the air as I ranted around the room, careful not to step on Marie, who still lounged on the floor, trying to hide her amusement. "Abuse! Abuse from every side!"

Right then Isnomi decided I was just close enough, and launched herself off the bed, aimed vaguely in my direction. Despite my sudden lunge to catch her, she'd only started maybe eighteen inches off the floor, and while she had some surprising power in her chubby little baby thighs, they were still, as noted, chubby little baby thighs. She managed a full on faceplant slash belly flop into the padding on the floor. I bent over double to get my hands around her and pick her up; the moment her face cleared the padding, she squealed wildly, flapping her arms and legs, screaming, "Geh! Geh! Fa! Fa!"

I dunno, maybe my Blend kicked in and translated, because I held her up so she faced me from about eighteen inches and replied, "No, Isnomi, you cannot fly. You are not a bird."

She folded her little chubby arms across her chest, stuck her bottom lip out, and filled her diaper. Then she pouted, "Buh! Buh!"

"No, you are not a bird. Birds don't wear diapers."

The precocious little smart ass's next move, obviously, was to reach for her diaper. I nipped that in the bud, zooming her around the room so she stuck her arms and legs out, interspersing "Buh! Buh! Mama! Mama! Buh!" with shrieks of joy that must have straight up killed every bat in Phileo. Seriously, I think my ears might have bled at one point. Certainly liquefied any wax in there when she ranged up above twenty thousand hertz. When the scent of whatever she'd filled her diaper with trickled into the air, I brought her in for a landing on the desk and got to changing her. She helped with getting the diaper off and, wonder of wonders, didn't make a grab for the contents. Once I got her cleaned up, though, she did her dead level best to keep me from putting the new one on.

After like a solid minute of that, I realized I in no way had the Mad Mom Skillz to do Secret Mom Technique: Diaper Origami with one hand, so I twisted her around to sit there on her diaper, sat down on the chair and looked her right in the eyes. "You, little miss, will be wearing a diaper until you are potty trained. Got it?"

Rugrat gave me a look that said, "what the fuck you mean, 'potty trained'?"

"Until you prove to our satisfaction," I nodded to Marie and Saffron, "that you can, will, and do use the potty when you need to go, you are wearing diapers."

I swear, Saffron must have found the perfect genes to complement her own dizzying intellect, because the little menace just tilted her head and said, "Pah? Dah? Pada?"

I turned to Saffron, "where did the chamber pot go, anyhow?"

She looked up from where she'd been adjusting her clothes; I don't know where she'd gotten them, but she had a really nice, flowing, knee length dark gray skirt, and she'd paired it with a lighter gray blouse in some silky material, with a cardigan that matched the skirt. "Check your feet, Goof."

I looked under the desk and there it was. I held one finger right in front of the diminutive daredevil's face and said, "stay," then leaned down and picked up the pot. It had a snug fitting lid, and I didn't mess with it as I lifted the whole thing up onto the desk next to Isnomi, pointed to it, and said, "chamber pot. Pot. Potty."

She wrinkled her nose a little. "Pah?"

I picked up her dirty diaper, poked it with a finger and said, "Poo." Then I poked the chamber pot and said, "potty. Poo goes in the potty." I got some kind of bright idea that I'd put the dirty diaper in the chamber pot, but when I slid the lid out of the pot, the distinctive odor of a used chamber pot assailed my nostrils. I slid it closed again, repeating, "poo goes in the potty."

She wrinkled her nose a lot, then sighed and flopped back down on the desk, arms over her head in resignation. I finished putting her diaper on. While I did, over my shoulder I asked, "why exactly doesn't the Academy have indoor plumbing?"

She shrugged as she walked over to take possession of Isnomi, proving her wisdom in her choice of attire when she pulled the cardigan and blouse open to dispense rugrat breakfast. "The stated reason is getting the 'soft' Cadets ready to 'rough it', but like Angel said, most of the kids from the Yards are used to outhouses anyway." She paused, thoughtful. "I think Bill's family has indoor plumbing. They paid for most of our tutors."

"I thought you said you split the cost?"

She shrugged again, "technically, yes, but most of us worked for his parents to earn the money that we then dumped into the pile to hire our tutors."

"What do his parents do, anyway?" I asked as I pulled my pants over my shirt. I wasn't feeling my civvy clothes or The Dress today, so I'd wound up going for my good uniform.

She got that kind of soft, faraway grin that people get when thinking about memories that aren't ecstatic, and frankly are of things that weren't fun when they happened, but in retrospect seem easy, or simple, or just some stable kind of nice. "They run a restaurant down near the docks. Used to be a stable, they converted it. It's mostly kitchen now."

I snorted, "yep, definitely not the Camden I grew up in. Nobody in Camden gets that dreamy look over food service."

She flashed me a grin and said, "you'd have loved it up until they fired you in self defense."

I looked up from buttoning my jacket. "Hey! I could do food service if I wanted!"

She chuckled at that, and Isnomi echoed her without ever detaching from the tit. "I'm sure you could, love, but those of us working there got two free meals a day. Three, if we got there soon enough."

I bowed my head in defeat, finishing up my buttons as I said, "yeah, I get it now. I never thought about how much my grocery bill would be."

"Aw, don't be sad. The Academy has the budget to feed you, don't ever let them make you think they don't."

At that point Lyman knocked, and I let him in. "What's on the schedule for today, Boss?"

He shrugged. "It's been a while since we've just, as you say, hung out and vibed. My day is yours." He bowed to the room, even Marie where she'd just finished putting herself together.

Saffron closed herself up and held Isnomi out to Marie, who took her and nuzzled her. "Did you want to take her today?"

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Marie sighed. "Can't."

Before she could hand her back, Saffron stood, smoothing her skirts while she said, "our first stop today is Jon; did you want to give her a ride down there?"

Marie's eyes went absolutely round as she growled, "Yes!" She swooped the daredevil around the room, eventually bringing her in for a landing on her cart, where Isnomi sat slapping the front of the cart shouting, "Ca! Ca!" Marie rolled out past Lyman, and we followed along behind her.

I'd never really thought about it before, because the Maids all maintain a kind of smooth, calm pace as they trundle around the Academy, but a seven foot tall woman 'striding briskly' is fast as fuck. Lyman and I wound up jogging to keep up, and Saffron had to choose between running or getting left behind.

The entire way to the North stairs, which is what I'd finally realized the 'really back' stairs, the ones furthest from the entrance, were called, Isnomi stretched her arms out, shrieking, "Fafa! Fafa!", even leaning into the turn when Marie took it without slowing. I'd never had much use for the North stairs, since if I wanted to get to the Infirmary while avoiding Trease I'd just take the East stairs. I just now noticed that the two center doors into the North stairs had no jamb in between them, and swung open when the front of Marie's cart hit them. Isnomi's shrieking climbed into the 'death to bats' range and my sphincter clamped down hard enough to produce strange matter normally only found in singularities when, without slowing, Marie pushed her cart straight onto the ramp that took up the outer quarter of the North stairwell.

Flight after flight, with Lyman and I leaping down two or three steps at a time in chase, Marie slid her cart down the ramps at just shy of breakneck speeds, the psychotic little gremlin doing her best impression of a Rolls Royce hood ornament the entire way. Somewhere a couple flights down, Isnomi didn't lean quite far enough on a turn, but before she could do more than bobble a little Marie had her fingers bracing the little one up, two fingers alongside her head, two more on her side. Our tiny adrenaline junkie slapped her hands away, shooting a look over her shoulder before shrieking, "FA!" at the top of her little lungs.

When we finally hit the basement, I was glad I wasn't the cat I sometimes reminded myself of, because that shit would have cost like sixteen lives from stress alone.

The rugrat loved it, slapping at the front of the cart and hollering, "Fafa! Fafa!" again. Marie obliged, feeling comfortable enough here in her domain beneath the Academy that she moved into that kind of skipping run older kids will do sometimes with a shopping cart. Isnomi wound up leaning forward at that point, because I'm pretty sure she'd have fallen over backward from acceleration and wind if she hadn't. I caught glimpses of Maids glancing up from their work in the laundry and kitchen, feline grins stretching their features.

Lyman and I wound up sprinting to keep up. "Is this your daughter's normal daily routine?"

"Fuck if I know, but prolly."

"I thought you liked your little one."

At that point Marie slipped her cart through the door to the forge and planted her feet, rapidly sliding to a stop. Isnomi tumbled off the front of the cart into Marie's waiting claws. I turned to my Patron and said, "I'm pretty sure she'd leave the whole Academy a smoking ruin before she let the little maniac wind up hurt or disappointed."

He pursed his lips, nodded to me, and replied, "fair point. I suppose if they kept Dionysus safe despite the best efforts of Zeus and his kin, they'll certainly do the same for her."

Saffron just looked at the four of us, shaking her head and saying, "what took you so long?"

"Fuck, did you get duBois to show you that trick he does?"

"What trick?" She faked a frown at me and said, "did you Just Happen to him too now?" When I'd spluttered a little, she shook her head mock sadly and said, "those of us who know our cardinal directions know the smithy is in the Southwest end of the building, and don't go all the way to the North stairs."

I facepalmed, asking, "so that's why you're just a little bit flushed?"

"Ah. Yes. Let's go with that then."

I looked up just in time for her to hand Isnomi over to me. I handed her off to Lyman so I could properly plant my hands on my hips and say, "Oh, no. Out with it. Is there something you need to tell me about Jon now?"

She blushed a little, but primly replied, "not every act of creation is a sexual one." After just long enough to catch me opening my mouth to reply, she cut in with, "although given your propensities, you might well wind up making us both Just Happen to him after you see what he's made."

That got my full attention. "It's done?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

"Well? Where is it? I wanna see!"

She hopped over and stood protectively in front of a enameled black case, shaking her head. "Go get a couple target dummies and meet me out back."

"Like, at the delivery docks?"

She rolled her eyes, "No, on that big open area behind them."

"And what am I to do today?" Lyman asked.

Saffron stepped away from the case, warning me away and shooing me off with one finger before curtseying to Loki. "I would be deeply honored if you could stand in for Marie today, as she cannot come with us." When she straightened, she looked at him with a twinkle in her eye, one hand reaching behind her to caress the case. "If you ask nicely I'll let you try a few shots, too." While Lyman stood there chuckling and effortlessly keeping the menace occupied and contained with one arm, she pointed at me, then the nearest steps. "Dummy! Go get Dummies!"

What else could I do? I bolted for the stairs.

You know, I half think you're worshipping that thing.

I would assure you it is purely physical, and I'll certainly share, but I'm not really sure about either of those.

Hey!

Somehow my little ballistics fetishist managed to send my brain a giggle. Oh, you know I'm kidding. I share everything with you.

Oh, but no reassurances you're not worshipping a graven idol now?

I made no vow of exclusivity. You will always be my Patron, but now and again I will give others their fair due.

What, are you gonna worship Vulcan now?

Again, she managed to push a moue of curiosity through our link. Who? Wait, did you decide to name my crossbow before I could even fire him?

I rolled my eyes. Vulcan? God of the forge, and machinery, and tinkerers? Wait, he was one of those with another name. Heff... Heffner? Heffalump? I cudgeled my brain as I spat out humorous sound-alikes until some bit in the back of my skull decided to obey. Hephaestus! That's it. Hephaestus, Lord of the Forge, Aphrodite's husband, God of cuckolds?

All the humor drained from Saffron's mental voice when she replied. Aphrodite's husband is Ares. There is no God of the Forge among the Greeks. She paused. I know Hera had a child. Not Zeus'. He smothered it in its cradle. Crushed its head. While Ares and Athena held her and forced her to watch.

By this point, I'd managed to snag three target dummies, ignoring Lachlan's shouted questions, and head down the steps a flight at a time. I didn't break walls or anything; I wanted to get outside fast, but it wasn't an emergency or anything.

I'm sorry, love. I did my best to send her a grin, one that contained only the darkest sort of humor as I thought, so, do you think Vulcan has the range to give Zeus a Prince Albert?

As I jogged up to where she and Loki stood at the top of the long, low slope behind the Academy, she said, "a what?"

I shot her an image of the piercing and said, "I guess it'd really be more of a really aggressive sounding," then shot her an image of that kink that had been seared into my brain by the internet.

She smiled, the smile melting into the same grin she'd shown me last week, all grown up and ready for an NC 17 rated coming out party. She took off her cardigan, lay it on the ground, and lay the enameled black case atop it, leaning down and breathing, "Vulcan," into the gap as she cracked it open.

I swear, I'm not an ammosexual or anything, but my first look at Vulcan even made my nonexistent panties a little damp. Gleaming black enamel covered the stock, that very gleam the only thing making it visible in the matte black velvet cradling it in the case. The bow itself gleamed, oil lending the polished steel the faintest liquid sheen. The coil of braided wire in one corner of the case put the same kind of shiver up my spine into the back of my brain that a snake might, and only after taking all of those in did I even notice the faint gleam of enameled bolts nestling in the velvet, surrounding the stock, too many and too deeply buried to easily count.

His own eyes locked to the beautiful engine of destruction in the case, Loki held out one hand, waving me to him. "Champion," he whispered, "the targets, please." We traded rugrat for dummies, and he disappeared, suddenly at three spots down the hill, then standing next to us once more.

Saffron grinned up at him. "I appreciate your assistance, Lord, but you've misplaced the middle one." When he just looked at her quizzically, she leaned toward him and said, "it belongs twice as far from the outer one as we are from it." He blinked, his eyes going wide as he realized she wasn't joking in the slightest. A moment of him gone, and he returned. I looked down the range, realizing with a start that the third dummy stood so far away it took me a little bit just to find it in the distance.

I looked down at my tiny terror of a wife. "Really?"

The only answer she gave? That little sister of the Grin of Panty Obliteration, all grown up and proud of breaking the fucking overstuffed leather couch. She reached down into the case and lifted Vulcan free, having to brace herself a little to do so. The cord, one of three in the case, slipped over the bow with barely enough slack to connect it to another cord that led down into the thickest part of the stock. That done, she set the enameled black stirrup under the bow atop an exposed bit of her cardigan, braced her foot in it, and worked a lever that had lurked seamlessly against the side of the stock. The first few pumps pulled the cord tight; after that it took progressively more effort on her part, but with each work of the lever the bow bent an ever tinier fraction back. After maybe a dozen pumps, she slid the lever flush, ratcheted something along it, and started pumping again. Now that I listened, I could make out the faintest clickety clickety sound of something deep in the belly of the stock ratcheting. She repeated the whole process twice more, then pushed the lever flush and reverently lifted one of the bolts free of Vulcan's case.

She froze, bolt in hand. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't want to lose it."

Loki straight up lost his shit laughing at that. He reached out and asked, "if I may?" When she nodded, he touched the bolt; it and all the others in the case took on a deep electric blue glow. "That will last well into the night, and while it appears faint now, it should show up in the dark," he glanced downrange, "or even underwater, come to think of it."

I looked myself. "You gotta be fuckin' with me, Boss."

He simply waved a hand to Saffron, who eagerly slotted a bolt into Vulcan, went to one knee, and took careful aim at the nearest dummy, which stood about fifty feet away. She did something with one finger under the stock. Vulcan thrummed, and the bolt dis-a-fucking-peared. I couldn't twist my neck fast enough to track it; by the time I got my eyes on the closest dummy? It wasn't fucking there any more. The stand that had held it up tumbled end over end, a still expanding conical cloud of hay marked its former position, and the remains of the wood and cloth 'body' of the dummy lay at the end of the third of three furrows it had plowed as it flew backward, bouncing as it went. I could just make out an electric blue gleam coming from under the cloth.

"Holy fuckballs. God dayum. Cheese and Rice." What? I don't need yet another god getting pissed at me for no good reason. "Did... did you know it was going to do that?" Saffron blew out a shuddering breath. I recognized that shudder, and barked out a laugh. "That good, huh?" She just meeped and nodded her head, pulling Vulcan's butt under her shoulder and snuggling the stock while she knelt there purring at it.

Loki knelt next to her. I had no idea if he faked the reverence in his voice or not, but he asked, "May I?" and held out both hands, palms up.

The faintest of hisses escaped her mouth as she snuggled Vulcan fiercely, whispering, "mine!" once before laughing. She held Vulcan out to him, but held on to it, turning pleading eyes on Loki. "Don't hurt him?"

He didn't fake the look of shock on his face when he said, "I would never harm such a work of art. I swear it on my own Divinity." He bowed his head, and Saffron gently placed Vulcan in his hands. He proceeded to examine it, quickly and professionally examining every visible surface, even peering into the workings as much as he could without disturbing the openings in any way. With every new look, the serene smile on his face deepened, until finally, after sighting down the stock toward the distant dot of the third dummy, he pulled the stock into the crook of his right arm, running his left palm across the bow, then down the stock, breathing out, "Vulcan," as he did.

I swear to fuckin' god, the damn crossbow gleamed harder at him.

Of course it did. Works of Art appreciate appreciation.

He looked at Saffron. "Do you really think you can hit that third target?"

She frowned up at him. "He can make the shot."

Loki grinned. "Oh, I know he can. I asked if you can."

Her pout is so fuckin' cute. "Probably not."

"May I?"

She kept pouting, but held out a bolt for him to take. He placed the stirrup on the toe of his own boot, then slipped his other boot toe into it to brace Vulcan as he worked the lever. After the fourth cycle, she looked away from the target, frowning as she said, "careful, he's..."

"Trust, oh Beloved of my Champion." Saffron gulped, then turned to stare at the third target.

I'd learned my lesson the first time and kept my eyes on it. Vulcan thrummed, and less than a second later the dummy flew backward, trailing hay as it bounced once, twice, then plonked right into the shallows of the Schuylkill. "Fuck, I'm gonna have to go fetch that one, ain't I?"

"If you would, please, Champion."

"Only if you promise I get the third shot."

Loki smiled at me, the expression eerily similar to Saffron's. "Oh, certainly, Champion. I think I'll need a moment anyhow."

I rolled my eyes at the two of them, then trotted off to collect Vulcan's bolts. I didn't bother with the first dummy; nothing but scraps remained. The second one I had to bring back; Vulcan's bolt had lodged halfway through it, and I couldn't pull the fucker free.

Of course, when I took my turn I had to give in to my inner jackass and try hitting the one a couple hundred feet away. We lost that bolt. Okay, we didn't lose it. We knew exactly where it was, but one of the maintenance guys needed to come out with a hatchet to get it out of the tree at some future date. I swear Vulcan just radiated smugness, with just the faintest unrepentant 'oops, wrong hole' energy laced through it.

Saffron, because she is, unlike me, not an idiot, pulled the dummy in to about a hundred feet away before taking her second shot. That wound up being the last one of the day, since that left us with one semi-functional dummy, and the only one of us who might be able to not accidentally hit the bolt that still stuck out of it was Loki, who declined our offer to let him. "I'll be explaining myself enough today, doing something a second time is much harder to pass off as an unintentional mistake."

Funniest thing of all? The dramatically pissed off look on Isnomi's face when we wouldn't let her and Vulcan within a dozen feet of each other. When Saffron lay him and his one recovered bolt back in his case, reverently closing the cover, the tyke screamed out an absolutely heartbreaking "Vaaaaaaa!", then turned the worlds most put out pouty face to me and filled her damn diaper.