Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

Some days it seems like fate likes fucking with me more than others.

Last night I spent dinner back in Phileo; what with the City’s military still being deployed, classes were totally haphazard, and the Dining Hall being half empty made me feel some kinda way, so Marie brought dinner to our room. Surprised me when she opened the tray atop her cart to reveal a whole sashimi platter. Okay, not sure if it was technically sashimi, but there was definitely some sliced pink stuff and lots of ground green horseradish on the side, so I’m going with ’sashimi’.

”Damn, Marie! I didn’t know you knew how to make sushi. Sweet!” I then filled my mouth with a couple pieces of what looked to be steak sashimi sandwiched around sliced pink stuff, which tasted like something spicy what had been pickled, and horseradish, which tasted like horseradish, because duh. The flavor on the sliced stuff wasn’t quite right, but fuck it, sushi is sushi.

Of course, right about then Marie cut in with, ”Not.”

When I’d swallowed that bite, absolutely reveling in the way the heat filled my chest, I asked, ”why is this not sushi? Wait, do I even want to know? Is it some kind of weird, I dunno, bug or dog or something?”

She shook her head. ”Rice.”

When I cudgeled my brain into thinking about the sushi places I’d been before, while of course filling my mouth with some slices of fish sandwiching more mixed fire, I remembered that everything not labeled ’sashimi’ had, indeed, had rice somewhere in it at the sushi place I’d hang when I was cutting and had some money to burn. Meaning not that often, but the place was, like, right by where boats would dock, so I guess they had access to cheap fresh fish. Which would explain why there was usually more meat than anything else, except maybe sometimes rice. At any rate, I just let myself savor the flavor; when the heat died down I swallowed and said, ”where’d you learn to make sashimi anyhow? Have you been to Japan? What’s Japan like here?”

Her brow furrowed a little, but before she could try to explain in one syllable or less, Saffron cut in. ”I heard you thinking fairly loudly about sushi one day, so I looked it up. I suppose it might be different where you’re from, but once I found a few journals describing something they called ’sushi’, I brought them to Marie and asked if she could figure out how to make it from the descriptions. It turns out there’s a small, tight knit community of Orientals in southern Phileo.”

I interrupted her without really thinking about it. ”Asians. Or, y’know, Chinese or Japanese or Vietnamese, or whatever country they’re from.”

She looked at me curiously. ”You seem a little perturbed by the other. Why?”

Of course I’d already filled my mouth with more food, so I held up a hand while I chewed and swallowed as quickly as I could without, y’know, missing out on the flavor of Marie’s sashimi. ”Oriental is a type of rug. Nah, not even that, really. ’Orient’ as a place is kind of a European word for ’places where not-white maybe-civilized people live’. Kinda derogatory even as a place reference, totally racist as a description of people.” I then proceeded to fill my face with more sashimi, because duh of course I did.

Saffron got that look I’d seen now and again back in Camden on decent people when somebody called them out about something they hadn’t known was racist, but they’d habitually done or said for so long that it definitely made them feel awkward in a bad way. Like, part of them were ashamed that they’d done something hurtful and wrong, part of them wanted the person calling them out for doing it to be wrong, and part of them just wanted to say ’shut up, is not’. I mean, shit, I’d felt that way when one of the Asian kids back in Camden called me out on the ’Oriental’ thing, so I knew that feel.

Yes, something can feel ’awkward in a good way’. I mean, when I screamed something I couldn’t quite force myself to remember, but might have been, ’motherfucking shitball cocksucking cumdumpsters fucking stop and I rip your cuntlicking tongues out’ right in the middle of Marie and Saffron tag-teaming me? Hella awkward moment of silence, followed by Saffron laughing her ass off while, thankfully, not stopping. That would be a hell of a thing to have to decide, whether to follow through on my terrible threats and have to Heal one or both of them afterward, or having both of them start ignoring all the random shit coming out of my mouth. Honestly, that latter would probably be as frustrating for me as it would be beneficial for both of their mental health, but for some reason they actually valued that ongoing stream of consciousness, which made me feel a lot better about myself.

Also, yes, I watched way too much Sasha Grey at an impressionable age.

Anyway, Saffron took a long moment eating her next piece of sushi, looking thoughtful. When she finished she said, ”I wasn’t previously aware of that. Since it would be hypocritical of me to continue doing something offensive based on someone’s race, I’ll certainly try not to in the future. At any rate, there is a small but tight knit population of Asians in south Phileo. They don’t advertise their presence, but apparently a few of them have become Heroes, and at least one requested some dishes like this.”

I swallowed and asked, ”have you had it before?”

She shook her head. ”It’s very different. It tastes really good, though. The texture of some of it is... surprising. Especially these.” She picked up a slice of what, if I’m remembering right, was tuna, and following my example, sandwiched some of the... ginger? It didn’t taste quite like the ginger I’d had in the past, but it had been over a year since I had any, and never with my current tongue, so maybe it was ginger? Anyway, she’d been trying each type of sashimi plain beforehand, but when she popped the little sashimi sandwich in her mouth and chewed once, her eyes popped just a little bit. Breathing through her nose, she chewed and swallowed before looking at me and saying, ”I know you like things spicy,” which is really an understatement after my statement about Sasha Grey, but whatever, ”but that’s a little more intense than I’m used to.”

I watched Marie for a moment as she took a single small slice of not-ginger, putting a claw-tip’s worth of green horseradish... wasabi? I think it’s wasabi, although I don’t think this was actually, y’know, wasabi. It mostly tasted right, but I didn’t think Phileo had any kind of trade route to Japan. Anyway, Marie put a claw tip of not-wasabi on a single slice of not-ginger, then rolled that up in a slice of sashimi and ate it. Then I turned to look at Isnomi. ”Oi! Menace, slow down, I dunno how much Marie made of that!” Because while I watched she used both hands to cram handfuls of sashimi and condiments into her mouth, nom them a couple times, swallow, and repeat the process.

Of course she just swallowed, burped, then Muttlied at me. Before I could say anything else? Marie leaned over to slide the side of her cart open, revealing four more covered trays identical to the first one. ”Enough.”

At that point there remained only one possible response. I grabbed up Isnomi-handful-sized portions of not-ginger and not-wasabi, popped them in my mouth, ’chewed’ at the already mostly swallowable stuff until my mouth was made of fire, then pounced on Marie, my hands holding the back of her head and my tongue seeking her tonsils. I figured either she’d bite my tongue off or reciprocate, and the ultimate result, once she got past a moment of stunned immobility at my sudden pounce, was definitely the one I preferred.

Of course, when we got done Isnomi was tugging at one of the other trays, because it looked like she’d licked the first one clean of anything and everything, including the piles of not-ginger and not-wasabi. Marie leaned over, gently pushed her back just far enough that she wouldn’t get brained, and showed Isnomi the trick of lifting the tray past the little lip that kept them from sliding around too much. Then she put it in the new tray on top of the old one and we got back to the serious business of eating.

In between bites, as I sat there enjoying the pleasant burn and the lingering taste of salmon on my tongue, I asked, ”so, do you know how to do nigiri and maki?” Bugger off, I didn’t ever have to order ginger or wasabi, they just sort of showed up beside whatever else I ordered.

Marie considered for a moment as she savored her most recent sashimi bite, then said, ”Maybe.”

After a moment, Saffron asked, ”you know how, but aren’t certain if you can get or properly replace the ingredients?”

”Yes.”

I put on my most serious business face and said, ”Imperator?”

Saffron raised an eyebrow. ”Yes?”

”High Priestess?”

That got the other eyebrow to go up. ”Yes?”

”As Phileo Councilwoman for Mimic and your Goddess, I ask and command you to open trade with someplace that can get us rice, dried seaweed wraps, and ginger as quickly as you can.” I couldn’t help it, a guilty smile spread across my face. ”Or, y’know, as soon as it won’t fuck anything else up.”

For her part, Saffron just smiled affectionately at me and said, ”for a councilwoman, I might entertain the idea. For my Goddess, I would certainly try my utmost.” Then she reached across the tray and lay a hand along my jawline, half cupping my face as I leaned into it. ”For you, my wife, I will find a way, should I need to rearrange the globe to manage it.”

I didn’t really realize I was purring until she pulled her hand away and I stopped.

The rest of dinner went a lot more silently, as all of us concentrated on Marie’s awesome sashimi. At the end I helped her pack the trays away while Saffron carried Isnomi, who’d dropped over into a snoring food-coma the moment she’d cleared the last tray, into her bedroom and tucked her in.

None of us were feeling super-energetic, but none of us were really wanting to waste private time either. I discovered that while if you eat enough of something spicy, your taste buds, especially the bits that detect ’spicy’, will eventually go on strike in protest? Yeah, there’s still a lot of spice on your tongue, and that shit burns when applied elsewhere as well.

I mean, not enough to stop, but definitely one of those ’elevated experiences for the sophisticated connoisseur’.

Mimic Dreams mostly focused on gazing at her own navel.

In the morning we all hopped over to Lancaster House, where the kitchens had apparently learned how to make sriracha eggs, so I got spicy eggs and waffles. Apparently fate had decided I’d been a Good Girl and wanted to reward me or something. Hell, maybe I’d been just the right kind of Bad Girl. How the fuck would I know the difference? I guess if I ever meet Fate I’ll ask them. Her? Most of the fate Deities I remember reading about were women. Oddly enough groups of three most of the time, and despite Disney showing all three as withered old hags, tradition had them as one barely legal, one full on adult, and only the third being elderly, and even then they weren’t ’one foot in the grave grotesque’ elderly but ’wise old woman’ elderly.

Of course me being me, some tiny part in the back of my brain that wasn’t focused on squeezing every bit of nom out of my breakfast was wondering whether Fate being happy with me would wind up with her making inappropriate advances. Shit. Maybe Saffron’s right and I really am inevitably going to Just Happen to someone else. Then again, other than a bit of a positive southerly physical responses, she hadn’t reacted to watching me neck naked with Raymond, so she’s probably right about her reaction, too. Just gotta remember to follow The Rules. Fuck, now I couldn’t remember what they were, and asking seemed, I dunno, kind of like premeditation?

I saw the three of them off with hugs and kisses after breakfast, then settled into my new daily routine of being Lancaster House’s signals intelligence, telecommunication, and rapid transit network all in one. Nothing really important showed up, just more minor issues that only required me to show up and Shape a Heal or drop a unit of Volunteers to go hunting. Midway through the day I had a thought, though.

Hey Kitten?

Yes, Goof?

It might be a really good idea if we could make something like Lancaster House’s scrying room, but for, y’know, the whole Inter-City Alliance.

After a long enough pause that I thought I might have broken her, Saffron replied with, that is an incredible idea, if somewhat ambitious. Once we’re done eradicating this plague, I think that shall be my top priority as Imperator.

Is that something you can do?

Despite such a network having a plethora of other uses, it would be an absolutely invaluable military resource for the Alliance, and as such falls firmly within my purview. Just in case, should I meet opposition to the proposal, do I have the full backing of my Goddess on this issue?

Yeah, we both knew what my answer would be, but I was bored, and fucking around with Saffron was always fun. Aww, I dunno. Sounds an awful lot like work.

Real wasabi, ginger, and nori.

Done.

Yeah, I’m absolutely corrupt, but at least I’m consistent about it, right?