Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

Definitely gotta remember that while confidence is part of ’being my best self’, there’s definitely some lines I don’t want to cross, like going full on arrogant, hubris, or god forbid sloppy.

Seriously, as I’ve been planning this Norfolk trip out in my head, I keep thinking ’this is gonna be a challenge’. The part where hubris comes in is that I’m not thinking about ’killing a sixty foot guy who specializes on one on one combat’. I’m thinking about not losing my shit in a bad way. I’m not thrilled about this part of myself, but I’m sorta looking forward to killing the fuck out of some big dude whose whole thing is enabling dictators. Not ’stopping his evil actions’, but killing the fuck out of him, watching him shit himself in terror before the light winks out in what’s left of his eyes, then carving his corpse up for goofy mementos of my Norfolk visit.

But there’s a difference between ’killing a killer who fellates fash’ and ’going berserk and offing the slowest ten percent of the population’. George definitely made me feel some kinda way standing up to me and calling me on my murderous bullshit, but the thing is, he’s right. Sometimes my beat to shit moral compass needs somebody to give it a good hard whack to get the needle unstuck, and frankly, while I love my little family to pieces, I think Loki’s too subtle, Sigyn’s too kind, and the rest find my full on murderous beast mode rampage hilarious, hot, or some combination thereof.

Okay, oddly enough I think Conrad is so un-invested in my sloppy croppy that he might be both able and not unwilling to call me on it, but I’m pretty sure it would be a chore for him. Like, ’folding the laundry’ tier chore. Nothing nasty, very few things that are actually difficult, but unless your thing is domesticity, just a vaguely easy time sink.

So it looks like George gets to be my ’did I push shit too far’ of last resort. Gotta tell him that at some point. Preferably in a relatively private setting, so Ophelia and Lancaster don’t get the idea they can cat’s paw him to manipulate me, but one where Just Happening won’t be happening, because despite my lady bits’ inexplicable salivation on detecting a Man with Morals, that really would screw with the whole conversation.

At any rate, got extra credit for doing not one, but six different diplomatic letters to dudes down in Norfolk. ”Hey, Doc?”

Doctor DeLeon looked up from where he’d been reviewing the letters. ”Yes, Tabitha?”

”Those letters... are they, like, legal and shit? I mean, based on what you know about Norfolk’s laws, if I walked up and handed Jarl Karlson that one addressed to him, would he have to duel me? If he lost, would he have to give me his ship?”

Doc DeLeon got a considering look, then shuffled through, reread the letter in question, then looked up at me, nodding his head side to side. ”Technically, yes, if he accepted the duel and lost, you would be the legal owner of his ship.”

”You say that like there’s a but.”

He chuckled a little. ”You’ve grown. I’m proud of you, and thrilled that I might have played some small part. You never reliably noticed subtleties.”

I shrugged. ”Hey, subtle isn’t my thing. Butts, though? I always notice butts.”

That got him. After he chuckled a bit he said, ”from a purely legalistic standpoint, the wording of this, should he lose the duel, he would forfeit not just the Odin’s Pride, but all of his property. Lands, structures, ships, Thralls. All of it.”

”Wait. Thralls are slaves?” When he nodded, I muttered, ”okay, guilt-meter about killing the shit out of these fucks just dropped by an order of magnitude.” Then I asked, ”anything else I oughta know? ’Cause I really think I’m missing something important. More than one something, probably.”

He nodded. ”First, the Gormsson dynasty has established and encouraged a policy not too far from ’might makes right’. Frankly, if you can prove you have Aesir blood, that might as well be the whole of the law. If you are Vanir or Jotnar, you might need to impress the right people to prevent them from sending an army of Thralls to put you down, but still, all those old barbaric phrases like ’you keep what you kill’ or ’you have what you hold’ might as well be enshrined in written law in Norfolk.”

”And second?”

Doc DeLeon nodded, then said, ”Gregor Gormsson, current King of Norfolk, is particularly fond of keeping his Jarls at one another’s throats. I’m not sure if he worries that if he doesn’t, they’ll turn on him, or if he just enjoys the carnage. Either way, you can expect him to favor the winner of any Duel or Trial by Combat. Jarl Karlson, on the other hand, is shrewd for a man who by all accounts is an old school berserk on the battlefield. He’s likely to just deny your letter or ignore it.”

I nodded. ”So I’ll need copies.” When he raised an eyebrow, I explained, ”One to him. One here for our records. One to drop in King Gregor’s lap. Another one to hand Jarl Karlson when he rips up the first one. Another one to hand him when he burns that one. Another couple to hand out to folks in his throne room or wherever the fuck he plants his ass. Maybe a couple more so he gets the idea that when it comes to ’destroying the letter’, he’s gonna lose because I can literally do that shit all day.”

”Tabitha?”

”Yeah, Doc?”

”Is it your plan to anger Jarl Karlson to the point where he accepts your challenge?”

I gave him the old shifty-eyes and said, ”maybe?”

He just smiled and said, ”frankly? It’s more likely to succeed than anything else I can think of. So the plan the Marshall had me review is going to go forward?”

I put a finger to my lips. ”Shh. Don’t tell them I told you.”

”Worried we might get in trouble?”

”Nah. Worried they might make me make more of a plan than this.”

With that I stepped back to our rooms for the night. Did a little more ongoing bribery with Saffron before the Menace got home, then all four of us piled onto Marie’s bed, because despite the weird Ward-based climate control going on at the Academy, our ceiling was basically just under the Academy’s roof, and we had one long exterior wall with two windows, which meant by the end of the day our room got a little warm. Not baking sweaty hot, but I kinda wished we could open our windows and get a little breeze. Might have to talk with my boy Conrad about that, if it isn’t too mundane for him.

Mimic dreamt of everything everywhere turning to negative space as Domnu got really serious about looking for whatever she wanted to find. Mimic froze, but Domnu’s gaze passed over and through and past her, eventually settling on the midden heap to the south. With a voice made of moments of silence, she muttered, ”where? Where are you? I know you’re here.”

Not copacetic making, lemme tell you, but it put me a little on edge when I woke up, which considering my plans for the day was probably a Good Thing.

Got to class, and after Isnomi leapt for Doc Z, I intercepted Doc Glass as he approached Marie. ”Hey, Doc. No Soul stretching sampling today.”

”Will I offend her if I ask why?”

I shook my head. ”Nope, but you’ll confuse her, since I’m the one making the call for my favorite Concubine. She was down for two days after last week. Like, face down on the floor immobile.”

He blanched and turned to Marie, ”forgive me, Maenad Marie. I had no idea.”

She’d been staring at me with an odd mix of affection and annoyance since I intercepted Doc, but she looked at him and muttered, ”De Nada.”

He turned back to me, a little confused, and I said, ”yeah, she’s not unwilling to give it another go on a later date, and a lot of why it took so much out of her is that she’s a little out of practice? But I want her to have a full two weeks of down time before she does that again.”

He nodded. ”That sounds eminently fair.” He turned to her. ”I will do my best to pay attention not just to the Souls of those you extract for us to observe, but also to your own, if you don’t find that too presumptuous.” When she gave the tiniest headshake, he turned back to me. ”It would be ill done to overwork our expert when she’s so generously volunteering her time.” He turned to the rest of the class, ”in the meanwhile, we can work on Healing and Divinatory Shapes based on what we observed for the past two weeks.”

So while Saffron, Smith, Siobhan, and some of the class worked to refine Smite into something they felt confident teaching folks heading to Calverton, and Docs Glass and Zeccardi worked with the others working on Shapes that would let them look at or manipulate Souls. Really kind of cool seeing doctors, the guys who back where I’m from had the reputation of being the natural enemies of reapers the world over, working with a Psychopomp to find ways to heal people. Even if, in the background, my sweet Saffron worked to weaponize the Ultimate Healing Spell.

At Noon Marie arrived with lunch. At first I got a little weirded by nobody commenting on two Maries, but after a minute I realized that the only people in the room who could tell her apart from the other Maenads also already knew she could Co-Locate. After Marie helped Marie hand out everybody else’s lunch, Saffron stepped over to Doctor Zeccardi, held out her arms for Isnomi, and said, ”unless you and your husband would like to join us for lunch out on the back lawn?” He looked at Doc Glass, who shrugged and nodded. Saffron got everyone to join hands and stepped all of us down to the back lawn, where Marie and Marie set up a whole picnic. I quickly realized why my Kitten wasn’t worried about having enough food; Marie had absolutely overloaded her cart.

Hey, Boss?

Yes?

You and Sigyn wanna join us for a picnic?

We’re kind of in the middle of the daily torture someone committed me to?

I giggled, hoping it made it to his brain. Well you’ll just have to wait for her to get back to finish. I got a couple things I need to talk to you about anyway.

Aren’t I supposed to be the one in charge here? Being the Patron and Mentor and all?

Oh, shit. Did I slip up and clue you in to reality? Sorry Boss.

His laughter rang out over the rolling hills behind the Academy. I got to watch as Sigyn, wearing nothing but her boots with assorted undergarments, the fuck-me-now skirt she and Saffron had whipped up, and an oversized Academy blouse tied in the front, had a whole series of unhidden, unbidden emotions stream across her face right in front of Gods and everybody. First surprise at being outside, especially since with the light breeze off the river it might have been a mite nippy out. Nipply, even. Then the tiniest flash of embarrassment when she realized she stood in front of a few men she hadn’t met, followed by more surprise as Docs Glass and Zeccardi both looked more like they envied her the ability to pull off that outfit. Kinda agreed with them there, honestly. Then she realized that every eye looking at her had some flavor of envy, awe, or desire.

Then she met Loki’s gaze, saw his smile. A smile that said without words, ’she chose me, she stayed with me, she refused to go when I offered to release her, this one is mine and mine alone by her own choice, and no other honor will ever measure up to that simple fact. Mortals and Gods alike, behold my wife in all her glory!’

I mean, I dunno if anybody else would get it? But I sure as shit could relate. ’My chick bad’, after all.

With that, pride and affection overwhelmed every other emotion on her face. ”You did that on purpose, husband.”

”I did.”

”Why?”

”Because it would be a crime against all that is good in this world to hide such beauty away in a cave forevermore. Do not mistake me, I treasure our moments together there, each and every one. But you, standing here like this? A moment to etch your greater Glory into the eyes of all who see it.”

She simpered at him, only half faking it. ”Would you have me be Freya, then? Or Aphrodite?”

Gotta hand it to the Boss, his confused ’huh?’ look was absolutely on point. ”Who? Are these names of people too ugly for me to recognize or remember after looking upon you even once?”

That got her. After a final stretch and pose that prompted the faint ringing of somebody dropping a hammer on the Academy’s back porch, she folded herself into Loki’s lap and we all tucked into the food. Doc Glass got the weirdest look on his face when Sigyn and Loki showed up, and after his first couple bites of the finger sandwiches Marie had brought out, snorted and said, ”I’m having lunch with two... no, three Gods.”

”Goddess.” Intoned Marie.

He snorted. ”Like that matters a great deal to Joe and I. I’m not sure whether to feel honored, or like peasants invited to the lord’s feast.”

”Our daughter asked us to share this picnic with you, Steven Glass, Doctor of Healing. I am glad she did, for having looked upon you and your spouse, watched you even eating this simple meal, I realize that if anyone deserves my blessing, it is the two of you. Never fear to call upon Sigyn, Doctor Glass. Not because of your learning, nor your endless passion for healing. But because much as every warrior who takes the field lends some Glory to Ares? Any as devoted as the two of you cannot help but Glorify marital devotion. I would never have thought to say this before our daughter adopted us, but I owe you both a debt, one that I would not think to deny repayment should you ask it.”

When Doc Z smiled and put his arm around Doc Glass, and Doc Glass just kinda sat there with his mouth dropped open, Loki leaned in and said, ”she’s quite passionate about devoted loving married couples. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

Everybody laughed at that, although Menace also giggled out, ”Siggy siwwy.”

When everything settled, the Docs looking a lot less uptight after Sigyn’s declaration and Loki’s joke, I said, ”hey, Boss?”

”Yes, Tabitha Diaz?”

”I gotta head down to Norfolk. Think I’m gonna need your backup, ’cause I don’t think they’re gonna take my word for it that I’ve got a little Vanir in me.” After a second where everybody else all sniggered, I rolled my eyes and said, ”think I need you to scry me a destination too, if you don’t mind?”

He shrugged. ”Of course, daughter.” He pushed himself to his feet while remaining seated with Sigyn in his lap, then motioned toward the river. ”Walk with me?” I spread hugs and kisses as appropriate, then walked down to the riverbank with him. ”You cannot scry out the destination on your own?”

I shrugged. ”Dunno anything but the dude’s name, and with needing your backup anyway, figured you could take a minute to do shit that might take me all day, if I could even pull it off.”

He nodded, and when he reached the river, shoved one foot into the mud next to the bank until the depression filled with water. ”His name?”

”Jarl Karlson of Norfolk.” He nodded, and after a few Shaping passes, I saw a guy sitting in a big old fashioned wood and leather throne. He even had one leg up over one arm of the chair, reminding me totally of somebody I’d never had the stones to off back when I was a gamer. Or maybe he was an un-killable NPC? Anyway, I gave Loki a side hug and said, ”Thanks, Boss. You’re the best.”

I know. His voice echoed through my head as I stepped like two long arms lengths in front of Jarl Karlson.

I pulled a folded, sealed letter from the waist of The Dress, then in my most nasally bitch voice called out, ”I gotta letter here for a Mister Garl Karlson?” I looked around the room, taking in the two big ugly scaled fuckers behind the Jarl, each holding a pole arm three times my height, the benches to either side of the room where guys in armor sat staring in shock at the crazy woman in the red dress who’d just popped up like some kind of UPS hooker, and the dozen or so scrawny guys with spears out by the door. I stepped over to the scrawniest of them and handed him the letter. ”Garl Karlson?” Before he even started shaking his head, I stepped over to the ugliest of the Viking looking dudes on the bench. ”Garl Karlson?” I dropped the letter I’d just pulled out of the back of The Dress’ nekkid side boot into his lap, stepping to the big lizardman lookin’ dudes with the halberds as I pulled out another one. Each of me held out a letter to one of them. ”Garl? Are you Garl Karlson? Am I getting it right? Is it Garl Garlson? Garl Jarlson, maybe?” When neither of them moved, I tucked a letter into their loincloths and stepped back to the middle of the room.

As I cupped my hands around my mouth to holler again, the Jarl barked out, ”I am the Jarl!”

I did a double take, like I hadn’t seen him there, then stepped up with another copy of the letter. I only had a few more tucked back there; I didn’t expect quite so many bystanders. I handed him the letter, dropping it into his hand and making him juggle it as I said, ”Here you go, Jarl.” I pretended to chew some gum while he stared at the letter like I’d dropped a turd in his hand, then, as he lifted it to break the seal, asked, ”what kinda name is Garl, anyhow?”

”Jarl is my title, not my name.”

”Oh! Okay, I get it.” I waited while he scanned the letter, his already impatient face growing angrier with each line. ”Oh, hey, Karl, I didn’t ask, but you can read it okay, right?”

He glared up at me. ”I am not a freeman, whore.”

My hand flew in front of my mouth as I gasped. ”Oh, shit, you’re a Thrall? That’s gotta suck. Are you keeping the seat warm for somebody then?”

He crushed the letter, managing to rip it as he did so, dropping the mangled paper to the ground. ”I. Am not. A Thrall. Whore.”

I bounced forward, another copy of the letter dropping into his hands before I bounced back. ”Okay, chill, chill, I figured with you being a whore and keeping the seat warm and all you were a Thrall. Good on you, I don’t approve of slavery.”

This time he crushed the letter and threw it at one of the big hearths midway along the side walls of the room. ”How dare you call me a whore, slut!”

I pulled another copy of the letter and flicked it at him. ”Oh, hey, do you think I’m a whore or a slut?” I stopped, putting a finger to my lower lip, biting the tip as I looked at the ceiling. ”I mean, I normally think of myself as a slut, but I guess you’re right, I totally do some transactional shit with my wife on the regular. But really, that’s more a game than anything serious, I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t fucking do for her, and that goes double for any fucking thing, so it’s not like she has to pay me. So I guess I’m really more of a slut? But no, I can’t be, because sluts do unchaste shit, right? And I keep looking for ways to do unchaste shit with my wife, but our vows were really pretty loosey goosey on the whole fidelity thing, so it’s hard, y’know?”

At this point I heard nothing but a low growl and endlessly crinkling paper from the chair in front of me. I glanced down at him and asked, ”Is it?”

”Is. It. What?”

Doing my best throaty ’my holes need filling’ voice, I replied, ”hard?”

”THRALLS! TAKE THIS WHORE FROM MY HALL! I care not what you do with her, so long as she can’t walk back in.”

I grinned at him, and a dozen tiny mes in a dozen tiny Dresses sloppily lopped the Thralls’ pinkie toes off, then hopped back to me. Right pinkies, because I was Neutralizing them, not flirting. As they dropped their weapons and followed them to the floor screaming, bleeding all over the fucking floor underneath them, I turned to the Jarl and asked, ”oh, hey, sorry, you guys do that ’everything belongs to the King, and he’s just loaning it out to you, right?” Before he could reply I followed up with, ”so, like, if Gregor Gormsson showed up right here and said, ’give me my Thralls’, you’d hand all those toeless fucks over, right?”

Jarl looked the tiniest bit spooked, like he half expected Gregor to show up. ”Yes?”

”Eh. Close enough.” I stepped over to the biggest blood puddle, tossed a Scry into it aimed at King Gregor Gormsson, owner of the karma for this big pile of slave blood. The moment I saw his face, I Co-Located in front of him. I copied my last remaining letter as I did, handing him one and screaming, ”Speedy Delivery for Kang Gargle Gormless from Jarl Karlson!” into his face before collapsing back into myself.

At that point I realized the implication of what I’d just done, stepped back to my spot in front of the Jarl, and screamed, ”FUCK!” When they blinked, I said, ”I spent three fuckin’ days handwriting books when I could have been fucking. FUCK!”

He motioned to the lizard dudes behind him. ”Take her.”

As they stepped toward me, I said, ”Ooh! Spit roast or sandwich? Kinky as fuck either way, no matter what you’ve got in your scaly cloacas. But sorry to lead you on with all the, y’know, fucking screaming fuck. I got work to do, so...” I Co-Located to both of their flanks, and the four of me behind them took both arms off of each of them just below the shoulder, then collapsed back into me. Then I blinked as the screaming bastards dropped to their knees. Not at the knee dropping, that seemed pretty standard for losing your arms and your right pinkie toe. But at the tiny stumps that writhed out of the stumps of their arms. I mean, like three grains of rice and a lima bean extruded then kinda stalled as they screamed in pain, but I’m used to Mana Bladed extremities just kinda sizzling, not growing back.

”What in Odin’s name?” the Jarl wheezed out.

”I know, right? That shit really shouldn’t be growing back.”

I heard benches scrape behind me, but the two of me who Co-Located behind the two scaly dudes and wreathed themselves in Mana Blades confirmed that the Warriors in the room had, one and all, just taken a big fuckin’ step back.

”What the fuck are you?”

I extruded an arm thick Mana Blade from each wrist, slowly for maximum snap hiss crackle. ”The fuck you just ask me, Garl?”

”Who...”

”Better.” I vanished the Blades, and sashayed a few steps up to him. ”I’m Tabitha Diaz. I gotta lotta hats, a lotta titles, but I’m gonna set all of them aside right now, because I don’t want you or Georg fucking with any of my people...”

No the fuck you will not, Daughter.

Aw... shucks. Thanks, Boss. You’re the best.

I know.

”Okay, I’ve been informed under no circumstances am I to fail to inform you that I’m Champion Tabitha Diaz. Loki’s Champion, in this case. Although my wife recently called me Champion, but that might just have been for my puissant pussy pleasing powers. I got that good good, baby.” I paused, and as his mouth opened, cut him off. ”Shit, sorry, think I’m feeling a little...” I popped Mana Blades out everywhere they wouldn’t damage The Dress or her boots. Got maybe a little bit of a surprise as Mana Blades popped out of the knees and toes of her Boots too, but I had no time to puzzle that shit out now, because I couldn’t let this fucker get his feet under him. In my best Michael Keaton growl, I said, ”Anxious,” and strutted toward the Jarl doing some pelvic thrusts to highlight the utterly egregious Mana Blade poking out of my crotch. Kinda directly at his face, because fuck this slaveowning rape ordering douchebag.

I took a deep breath, barely keeping up the rocking motion of my hips that oscillated my phallic Mana Blade toward his exposed everything millimeter by millimeter. ”Anyway, I’m here to lay my claim to, well, all your shit. So like the letter says, meet me on the field of honor tomorrow, at which point I will wreck all of your shit I don’t want.” I put one forefinger to my lower lip, ignoring the sizzle from the stubby Mana Blade coming out of my fingertip. ”Y’know, that’s pretty much just you, now that I think about it.” I took a deep breath, then gagged. ”You. Blech. I’m sure you can’t not know this, but you reek, my dude. Wait, no, you’re not my dude yet, not till I’m done with you tomorrow, at which point you won’t be anybody’s dude. More ’my fertilizer’. Oh, shit, that half sounds like I’m gonna use you to...” I paused, gulping. ”Sorry, threw up in my mouth a little bit.”

He opened his mouth and I cut him off again. ”OH SHIT! I forgot. My friend George made me promise. If you surrender now? Or hell, he might want me to... Okay, if you surrender at any point before the Duel officially starts? I won’t kill you. Hell, I won’t even hurt you. I mean, at that point I guess I’ll own you and shit, but I don’t support slavery, so after I have my Maenad give you a thorough bath, delousing, deworming, and maybe a shave, since I can’t see your cucumber patch being anything less than a matted tangle of smegma and shit, and it’d be nicer to her to have her cut that off instead of trying to clean it, so once she’s done that? I’ll manumit you. And if you’re super polite about it, when I exile you it’ll be under your own power instead of me yeeting you as far East as I can.”

Won’t that kill him?

Eh. I’ll yeet at a really low angle, and I’m sure he can swim and shit. Hell, I’ll even put a life jacket on him before I do.

A what?

Of course right then the Jarl found his voice. Something about me still doing a really shitty Time Warp within easy crotch spearing distance of him seemed to keep his voice down to a commanding bellow rather than a berserk scream. ”By what right do you claim my property, whore?”

I shrugged, trying to remember the proper steps to the Time Warp. ”Eh. I’m part Vanir. If you’re really, really, really into cosplaying a giant dildo I’m claiming the right to Trial By Combat to parlay my Vanir Vajayjay into the right to Duel you and take your shit.”

”You? Vanir?” He barked out the shittiest fake laugh in the history of fake laughs. ”A likely story.”

”Hey Boss?”

Before the word finished coming out of my mouth, a wave of cool air washed across me from behind and to the side. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his feet settle to the floor as he stretched to his full twenty-foot height, perfect hair almost brushing the ceiling. His voice filled the room as he announced, ”I am Loki, son of Laufey. This woman is my Champion, Tabitha Diaz. As Mortals reckon such things, she is Vanir by blood. She is Jotnar by adoption as my Daughter. She is Aesir by right of conquest from Odin himself.”

The Jarl just sat there, mouth working, while every jaw in the room dropped. Then Loki leaned forward, one hand going around my shoulders, his face close enough to the Jarl that the poor douchebag’s hair blew backwards when Loki stage whispered at him.

”And your choices, for I would not deny my Daughter her right to give you them? You may face her on the field tomorrow, or tell Odin that the ship you named for him? Now belongs to my Daughter.”