Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

"A decision that is made,

When you have all the power?

Will be judged accordingly."

Doctrine of Tabitha, Book of Egalitarianism

Yeah, I think those two verses together get the point across. The dude with his back to a wall is gonna get a lot less heat from yours truly than the guy with the crown and the throne. Something about that strikes me as oddly not copacetic, but I'm sure I'll catch it when I go to edit the thing into a cohesive whole.

Of course, it'll help if there's one of me trying to edit this shit into a cohesive whole. Right now I have no idea if the me who remembers all the shit that's happened knows or approves of what I've written. Still not entirely at ease with the idea of, y'know, me not existing. This me. The me that doesn't remember getting married, or killing ten thousand people, or apparently literally crushing a dude's head between my thighs. Like, not suffocating him or breaking his neck, but, like, splashing his fuckin' skull like a melon hit by a mallet in an anime.

I gotta hand it to the kids and the ladies. Not once has one of them made me feel unwelcome, or even like I wasn't the version of me they wanted. I mean, yeah, they slap that Cold Iron shit on my head when they can, but frankly that might just be so I can remember my passwords, or my schedule, or I dunno, where I put the toilet paper when we brought it home from the store.

Yeah, I just realized that there is something I don't remember doing since I got here, and by now I've been Cold Iron free for, uh, going on three days now. I maybe might see not taking a shit in that time, especially since I've really only eaten one meal a day plus a more or less constant stream of little snack plates Marie brings me. But going three days without taking a piss? Either my bladder is bigger than I am including my bladder, or something's wrong with me.

So I spent yesterday just kinda screwing around in the suite. Just before sunset, and fuck me but I really wanna know how I know it wasn't long before sunset, a butler arrived at the door and handed something to Marie. When she turned around, closing the door behind her, I recognized one of the bad Magneto cosplay helmets. I looked up and said, "time for everything to be future me's problem again, huh?"

Saffron, who'd been lying with her head on my lap while I read a book, stirred and looked up. "Whyever would you think that?" When my jaw dropped a little, she continued. "First of all, you are you, love. With or without your memories. The you we love isn't just some collection of random facts. It's you. Who you are. And yes, that's... changed over time, as you've learned, come into your power, suffered trauma and healed. But you, your heart, is still you."

I wasn't crying. Marie must have been prepping onion rings or something. "I... Thanks, Saffron."

"You don't need to thank me, thank any of us, for loving you, Goof. Now, we'd been having you wear Cold Iron so you could assist us with our investigation, even if only by adding another knowledgeable perspective, but that's before we realized there might be some danger to you wearing the things."

I snorted. "Me? Knowledgeable?"

Saffron just nodded. "You have passed quite a few Academy courses, love. Not so many as to earn a proper University degree, perhaps, but you've passed all the key courses to earn the title Hero. Even if you did skip a few lower level prerequisites."

"Wait. No. You're serious?" She nodded. "I'm, like, a college graduate?"

She shrugged. "Technically you don't graduate until you're a Hero, and you don't get that Title until your Status shows you as being an Adult rather than a Juvenile or Young Adult. But at this point you've completed all the coursework and you're just waiting on your Aura to recognize what everyone else can see as blindingly obvious."

"Holy crap. Do... do I get like a diploma or something? A nice sheepskin to hang on the wall?" I looked around, realizing that with the exception of furniture, the walls in here were distressingly bare. "Can we even hang things in here?"

She laughed as Marie set the helmet down on one of the end tables in the room with a clunk. "You do seem to like putting things on the walls. It wasn't easy taking the pictures you Mineral Bonded to the walls in our first room down without damaging them."

"Uh... If you don't put things on the walls, where do you put them?"

"In frames. On tables. Or on a mantle. Oh, I suppose if there are big enough pieces of furniture you could put a picture on them, and of course cabinets are usually a good place to hang things. But..."

"Yeah?"

"Other than drawings done with chalk and paint, most people don't... can't afford artwork, love." She paused. "Oh, I suppose there's a class of folks, merchants and such, who can afford some in Phileo. But in the Yards? Not really. There's a reason Raven's family couldn't afford art school for her. There's none in Camden Yards, and only the one art school associated with one of the Universities in Phileo." She frowned. "From what I've discovered, they're mostly concerned with realistic artwork, documentation of research, as well."

I chuckled. "Makes sense." When she turned her frown on me, I said, "Da Vinci."

"What, or who, is a Da Vinci?"

I took a deep breath. "Wow. Different world. Um... guy who pretty much could have solo'd the Reniassance?"

"The what?"

I blinked again. "Okay, back up. We're in Lancaster, right?" She nodded. "A bit west of Philly? Which is a little west of Camden?" She cocked an eyebrow when I said 'Philly', but nodded. "All that is part of the 'Alliance', right?"

"Yes, along with Newark and New Amsterdam to the north, and Norfolk and Calverton to the south."

"Wait... anything further south than Norfolk? Like, is Calverton south of Norfolk?" She shook her head. "Nothing north of New Amsterdam?" Another head shake. "So... what country owns the shit to the north and south of us?"

"Country? There's countryside, yes, but it's all controlled by the Cities that own it. St. Boltophsburg to the northeast of New Amsterdam. The only major power south of us at this point is Jackville, although they only count because of Jack himself. There are a few minor Cities between us and Jackville though. The closest would be," she looked at the ceiling for a moment, eyes darting. "Compton. Yes, Compton."

I broke down laughing. "So I guess there's no East Coast, West Coast rivalry here?"

She gave me a weird look. "I guess you could call the Atlantean Cities rivalry with the Europan Cities that, although frankly the Cities on the West Coast of Europa aren't terribly powerful." When I looked a question at her, she misunderstood and said, "neither the Celts nor the Norse have ever really founded any Cities as massive as those along the Mediterranean Sea." She paused, pondering. "It's the weather, I think. Too cold to grow enough crops anywhere north of the Alps. Maybe one short growing season a year, but that's about it."

"But... it's all Cities?"

She nodded. "Always has been." She smiled up at me. "Until now." Her smile got a little predatory, a little proud. "Until you, love."

I just sat there, trying to take that in. "So... just Cities. How the fuck did anyone build an Iowa class battleship?"

"You mean your Black Dragon?" I nodded. "She wasn't built, love. You summoned her into being." She tilted her head. "Created her from nothing in M-Space, as Lord Loki explains it. A copy of something from your world."

"I... I created her?"

"Yes." Something about Marie's tone just shut any disbelief in me off like a switch. I still kinda giggled a little bit.

"Are you hungry, love?"

"I could eat."

She grinned up at me, and holy shit if I weren't dead set on consenting to whatever she wanted to do with me that grin ought to classify as assault. "I'm sure you could. But... dinner first." Siobhan, who'd been snuggled in on top of Saffron, using her breasts as a pillow, whined at that. "You, Sister, will be eating everything Marie puts on your plate. Or there will be no after dinner treats for you."

"Yes, Mommy," snarked Siobhan.

Then Saffron leaned down and whispered, "Good Girl," and Siobhan turned bright red. Apparently she didn't faint so much lying down. Good to know. "Oh, just so you're aware, I've let Larry and Bonnie, that's Heir Lancaster and Heir-Consort Lancaster, both of whom are sworn to you as their Patron, that you've been experiencing some bouts of amnesia, possibly from a hostile Spell. At this point I don't think they need to know more than that."

"If you say so, sure." Saffron nudged Siobhan, who stood, then pushed herself upright, and they reached down to help me up. I didn't really need it, but it still felt nice to have them pamper me just that little bit. Even more when they each snuck under one of my arms and walked out onto the balcony outside our room with me.

I realized right then that Lancaster House must be fuckin' huge. The balcony had four more doors along the side opposite the railing, and I saw a matching balcony on the far side of the room. Not only that, but the dining room beneath us, where all our kids and a bunch more were already seated at an extended table, had to be as big as all the rooms put together. This wasn't a house, it was a fuckin' hotel.

Then we got to the end of the balcony and I realized there was another floor above us, and at least one below the dining room. While we were a little snug with like two dozen of us in the bedroom all told, It was just that; snug. Not cramped. Not crowded. Nobody slept on the bed, and it wasn't a small bed; if we'd put a bunch of kids on it, nobody would have had to sleep in contact with anybody else. I mean, I liked sleeping all snuggled up like that. I'd never done it before, and even after just a few days I realized that all the time I'd spent sleeping alone was just falling unconscious and coming to a few hours later, not... not sleeping. Not relaxing the way I did with my family all arranged around me, snuggled into me and each other like a big old pile of kittens.

We got down to the table, and my ladies dropped me off next to a blond dude roughly my height. "Commander! It's good to see you up and about!" He reached out a hand; I took it, and after a quick squeeze he pulled me in and gave me a one armed hug. I returned it, because I'm not a complete asshole or moron, but it still felt a little weird. He nodded to my seat, and sat after I did.

With him taking a seat at the head of the table, I guessed, "how's it hanging, Larry?"

The very, very pregant woman beside him chimed in, "probably not hanging at all. Standing to attention, dutifully guarding his post, awaiting my return."

"Aw, Bonnie, you giving my man Larry a hard time again?"

She smirked at me. "Sadly, not since this morning. Getting up and down the stairs is a chore. I've asked. Him," she poked him once with each word, "to work from the office in the suite, but he insists on seeing to things himself."

I shot Larry some side eye as Saffron sat down across from me, and Siobhan sat down next to her. "Bonnie's lookin' real close, you sure you want her in the suite all alone? What happens if the baby decides to show up? You sure you're gonna hear her calling from all the way in west bumblefuck?"

Larry's brow furrowed, "surely it's far too soon?"

At that point Saffron cut in before Bonnie widowed herself. "You do realize that some Bag give birth seven months after conception?"

I swear if he'd been eating already Larry would have choked to death right then. "Seven? Seven!" He turned to Bonnie, "you... you should be in bed. The staff can bring you your meals, and..."

"Enough, Larry." Bonnie took his hands in hers. "We've felt the little one moving, but I've not had any contractions yet."

Saffron came to the rescue again. "Bag Dan hybrids aren't unheard of, but they do tend to lean one way or the other. The closest to half of each I know if is Tabitha herself."

Bonnie tilted her head and asked, "so, Commander, how long did your mother carry you?"

I shrugged and thought about my Health classes. "Uh, about forty weeks?"

"Ten months?" Larry looked at the ceiling way above us, then let out a relieved sigh. "So another month or so?"

"That's only a guess though. Bonita?" Siobhan looked at Bonnie, who nodded. "It really would be best if you stay close to your bed. Climbing four flights of stairs, or even being carried, is not something you want to do while in labor. And Laurence?" Larry nodded. "It really would be best if you stay near her. Should she need something, I cannot think of another person who would be more determined to get it than yourself."

He took a deep breath, then turned to Bonnie. "I suppose you'll need to put up with me in your hair day and night now?"

She leaned over to whisper in his ear, but I'm pretty sure we all heard her whisper, "not my hair."

The two of them bantered back and forth, with Saffron and I poking at them to keep it going, until Marie arrived with food. I felt some kinda way about her doing the serving, but when I got a booger look and opened my mouth, Saffron cut me off with a quick jerk of her head. Then Marie stuffed a waffle in my mouth and I lost all desire to do anything but eat. Chicken and waffles and some kind of syrup-gravy mix had me vacuuming up food like it was going out of style. I literally lost track of how many waffles and tendies I nommed. When the serving staff came around collecting things, Saffron stood and said, "thank you for a lovely meal, everyone, but we must be off to bed. Morning comes early."

Maybe a half hour later, after we orchestrated all the kids hitting the toilet and trading their day wear for whatever they wore to sleep, whether that was a nightgown or shorts or just not much at all, once we all snuggled in on the floor, Saffron shifted and the four of us lay on that mirrored bed at the same time we lay in the bedroom at Lancaster House. Weird, but I went with it, especially when Saffron took Siobhan's hand, looked at me and Marie and said, "hopefully, we will too?"

Fun night. Woke up well rested in the morning. Loads of fun drying everybody off, even if Siobhan seemed a little more KO resistant with an actual decent meal in her. So we all went down to breakfast and stuffed another couple waffles into her, along with Saffron suggestively supplying some sausage. When breakfast ended, both of them sighed and said they'd see me in the evening. I wasn't thrilled, but figured they had to focus on whatever they had to do today.

When I got back to the room, Marie was waiting for me with a dark haired woman. When she turned to me, I did a double take. "Raven?"

She just raised an eyebrow. "You expected somebody else, 'Commander'?"

I swear, she looked just like a girl I knew from Eastside, a skinny goth chick who was always sketching, drawing, or even painting something while we were in class. "Uh... no, just didn't expect to see you here."

She looked at Marie. "Your Maid told me you needed me for something? I assume art related, unless you're looking for some discounts on raw leather?"

"Oh! Yeah! Sorry, I forgot for a second. I'd like some artwork of Marie, actually. If you have time?"

She snorted, but shook her head. "If I have time. I'm not showing you any of my works in progress, you understand?" I nodded, confused, and she said, "I can do a new sketch if you like?"

"Sure! That'd be great!"

Raven looked at the two of us, then said, "wait here." She left, then came back a minute later carrying an easel. She set up a big piece of something; paper, canvas, I'm not really sure, but then she settled us each into a love seat, our thighs pressed together, our hands interlaced.

"I don't think I need a picture of..." She shot me a look, and I shut the fuck up.

We sat there most of the day. I know, not only because the sun was nearing the horizon by the time she finished, but because she 'finished' when Saffron and Siobhan popped into existence behind her and gasped. She looked at them, sighed, then set her charcoal down and spun the easel around.

I wasn't sure what I was looking at immediately. Two of us. The one on the left, me, wasn't me as I thought of me. Pale skin, with dark scars on my face, my arms, everyplace that the sleeveless blouse and knee length skirt I'd worn today didn't cover. A face that despite the scars looked carved from marble, surrounded by a mane of dark, curly hair.

Then Marie. Her Maid's uniform told me it was her. Her hair, like she'd said, was the same. But her face. That... that was a tiger. Tigress. Her hands... her hands weren't 'long fingered with long fingernails besides'. They were claws; fingers as long as my palm, ending in blunted claws as long as my fingers. 'Blunted', only in the sense that a chisel is 'blunt'.

She was the most beautiful thing... no, the most beautiful person, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.