Day One Thousand One Hundred And Thirty-Eight

Dear Diary,

How.

How do I tell.

How do I tell when I'm being mature about something, and when I'm being selfish.

Yeah, I think that the part of me that's me from back in the day, the bitchy edgelord who'd been more or less stagnant since my mom died...

Sorry. Hard to think about, what with that no longer being a singular event, and me having caused the second one.

Yeah, old world edgelord me would have laughed at me for even thinking about the question. Then again, she'd probably think I was just trying to excuse my selfishness, and tell me to just be selfish. Because she never had a reason not to be selfish. Not since after Mom died of cancer.

Huh. I guess maybe that's one big difference. I mean, other than the 'me killing her' part. Between my two birth mothers, that is. I don't think of Domnu as 'Mom'. My mother, yes, and I think I even referred to her out loud as 'mom' once or twice. I I know I called her Ma, and Mother, and even once Mommy when I was taunting her about killing Sengann. But I don't think I even really called her 'Mom', even in my head. Especially in my head. That's gotta mean something.

Or maybe I'm just trying to avoid my guilt at matricide.

That wouldn't be out of character for me.

I want so much to open up to my family. To ask them to support me now, like my ladies supported me while I held my mother under the surface of my maw until nothing recognizable of her remained. Even if all they did was Worship and sing the Song of Impending Loss, they still supported me.

The trouble with being even vaguely smart is that so many things can be spun so many ways. Stupid people see the world one way, look at one facet of it, at one facet off any situation or problem, and they think that's the only thing there is. But no, I can't be Actually Stupid(tm), because that would be too easy. Instead I've got to be smart enough to look behind the curtain.

Because yeah, my ladies, my High Clergy, supported me when I held Domnu under. She had no one supporting her, because the one lunatic who would have been there, fighting against me with word and weapon and song, couldn't be, because she killed him. So my High Clergy, at least a quarter of whom I consider part of my nuclear family, supported my decision.

But I can't just leave it at that. If I were as dumb as I've called myself, I'd see that and immediately feel better. But no, I've got to be smart enough to realize that they really had no choice. They were all the Mortals who were 'corrupting' me, and Domnu would have ended them if I hadn't done unto her first.

Yeah, the next layer, that they couldn't have known, doesn't hold water, because even if I didn't tell them, more than one of my ladies is smart and strong willed enough to sift through my brain meats and find out the reason why I'd been shoving my own mother into my Maw, and the smartest of them is definitely curious enough to do so. Fuck, beyond curiosity, she'd look to find out just so she knew what my goal was, to support me better. Like if all I'd intended was to shave away enough power that Domnu would be more pliable, less of a problem, she'd have let me know when that was, since I'm not exactly great when it comes to ball parking strength and power at mortal levels.

Fuck. I could have done that. I mean, maybe, if I'd thought of it. Honestly, I'm not sure I could have. Thought of it, that is. At the start, I couldn't believe my own mother was going to do that. By the time I realized she was deadly serious, I think she'd realized I was too, and I didn't have a moment of spare willpower to think about anything but holding her down. By the time I might have been able to, by the time enough of her had dissolved, I think I was already a mess of fatigue and grief.

No, really, the self-loathing didn't kick in at all until today, really.

I know I ought to talk to my family about it. I mean, my ladies, because I'm not sure I can talk to my kids about it.

Which kind of lets family therapy day out as a day I could talk to them. But it's still a good time marker, since I don't seem to be any better than any other ADHD person about keeping track of time without something to help me out. If I haven't told them, talked to them, about it by Sunday, I'll think of something. Think of some way to talk to them. Even if I just drag them all to the Bedroom and blurt it out.

Never thought I'd use my personal love nest as a confessional, but here we are.

So yesterday went more or less according to plan. I sat with the negotiators as they worked though reconciling all four agreements. I'm not sure why, but the Captains seemed nervous about something. They weren't stonewalling or anything, so I tried my best to look calm and comforting. I mean, I was mostly focused on teaching the kids in my class, so I couldn't do more than listen to the negotiations, answer questions about what they'd agreed on and written down, tell them which page they'd written it on, and smile at them to make sure they knew I wasn't mad about anything, but I tired.

Oh. Yeah. They'd offered condolences when I first arrived, but when i shrugged and said, "there's work to be done," they settled in and did it.

Cailyn had been filling in for Tallulah, with George sitting nearby to show that whether it was Tallulah or Cailyn, the Overlord retained the support of the Alliance. Thing is, according to Cailyn and George both, the Grand Council wanted to review the treaties. Even after Saffron had me point out that they hadn't been ratified yet, and as mercenary military forces, the treaties fell under her purview as Imperator, they still wanted to go over them. I guess to sort out what they were gonna tell their merchant crews about any Pirates they ran across, maybe.

So I hopped down to Jackville and, at Tallulah's request, asked Adrienne to fill in for her mom. I dunno why, but it seemed almost like the collected Fae of the Overlord's Court wanted to piss off Nimble Jack less than they wanted to annoy George. Go figure.

Teaching math to the kids... I think whoever or wherever Aisling grew up, they'd done her a huge disservice. Kid's a natural with math, what with just learning her numbers a few weeks ago, and she's already got all the basic arithmetic down. Like, even long division. Gonna start her in on exponents and square roots Thursday.

I also had one of me home in the kitchen, working on a meal for the kids. Marie seemed a little worried about me, but seemed mollified when I trotted her off to the Bedroom and spent some time convincing her everything was fine.

I mean, she was right, and I didn't actually lie and say I was fine, but she was willing to accept my argument enough to focus on dinner for the rest of the day.

Then everything wrapped up, I brought everyone home, and fed them custom crafted paninis, with salad and soup for appetizers and lemon madeleines, chocolate cake, and blackberry pie for dessert. We've got blackberries; they grow out in the nearest edges of the woods, and some of the ladies have started... Training them, I guess. Working the forest not unlike the locals do. Did. Since they've mostly moved West or North of the river, since none of them live closer than Grandmother's Village.

None of it tasted like anything. I've always read how things taste like ash, or cardboard, or some other non-food item when somebody's depressed, and there have been times I thought stuff tasted like that, like I'd lost my joy at eating, but not like this. I knew the food was there in my mouth, I felt myself chewing and swallowing, but... Nothing. No taste whatsoever. Not 'bland', not 'awful', just... Nothing. Like chewy air.

Not even. Air has flavor, even if most of we don't notice because we don't go to new places very often, but I've noticed it now and then. A good outdoor market the air tastes different. Same for a bakery, or a butcher, or working kitchen.

Our kitchen didn't taste of anything when I started, nor when I finished after cooking all day.

I smiled and ate it all anyhow, at least a few bites of each, just to share with my kids and family.

After soaking in the Bath as long as we normally did, then putting the kids to bed, Marie yanked me away and had me demonstrate what I'd shown her for each of my ladies. Including her. They were very affectionate and appreciative.

Couldn't taste them either. In the Bedroom or in my dreams.

In the morning I split myself half a dozen ways.

One of me in Rich Man's Port Blended to a fare thee well and watching over Adrienne and Nimble Jack, as much to protect the citizenry from Jack's sense of humor as to protect the pair of them.

One of me in The Dress lounging on Treachery Rock, ostensibly 'protecting the Council', mostly reminding them that yes, I was there and watching, so planning anything nefarious would have to be done elsewhere.

One of me teaching my Cadets from Camden Yards how to turn their instincts for combat improvisation into something more polished, more effective than 'pocket sand'. Not that I've got anything against pocket sand, but the trick to improvising well is to always have new tricks to throw, no matter how long the fight's been going on.

One of me aboard the Black Dragon playing stenographer, trying to figure out why the Captains looked nervous, because with everything going so well I hated thinking they might have been playing us this whole time.

And one of me making dinner. I'd decided to make some gumbo. Hopped down to Jackville to collect the ingredients that I needed from there, even though that list was surprisingly short. Ran into a huge issue when I realized that without being able to taste test my own cooking, I might have added too much heat. I didn't find that out until Marie wandered over, her nose twitching, and wound up guzzling a gallon of milk after tasting a spoonful.

Had to throw that whole pot out when Adrienne and Nimble Jack had pretty much the same reaction.