Friday, December 9, 2011

Day Ninety-Five: Welcome to the family...?

Ow. Ow ow ow.

I got stabbed by my daughter today, diary. And then again, metaphorically, by the prince. His felt like a stab wound, anyway, which is… is that a simile? Simile is like or as, isn't it…?

It hurts to think about this too much. I'll ask Robert the Librarian. Eventually. When I'm healed. On with the story.

After Eve took off on us yesterday, the prince was pretty flummoxed. He'd expected a BIT of a reaction to my questions from Eve, given all the time we'd spent together during the week, and he said he was disappointed that I'd always been asleep or beat up or whatever when he came to the sparring field in the morning.

"What?" I'd said, feeling irate, "Of course I was, I've been running around that stupid track all week!"

"But didn't you ASK her anything? That's why I made you do those laps, lunkhead, so you could talk to her. You weren't supposed to run the WHOLE time."

"I tried, but… she just, just, kept pointing, so, y'know-"

"Agh!" He heaved a snowball at my head and tossed a flaming log on the picnic blanket, setting it on fire in an instant. "You twit! You were supposed to talk to her! Of course this isn't working, we're still at square one! I figured by the time we got to the picnic that she'd be talking to you, but nooooo!"

"Be there same time tomorrow!" he yelled as he ran off, leaving me to deal with the flaming blanket. "We're gonna try and speak her language this time!"

I still didn't get WHY he was doing all this, and I didn't wanna deal with a fire, so I ran off. The emergency teams didn't manage to put out the fire (which got pretty damn big) for a couple hours. I, ah, probably shoulda done something about that before I left, but I was frustrated, diary!

Spent the night in the rat farms, got fetched by the kangaroo, you know the routine. Dragged myself back to the sparring range and ran. I tried to talk to Eve, but no go. More cryptic nonsense.

Then the prince showed up, with the Omega Corps, and it all went to hell.

"Listen up!" he yelled, pointing at Eve. "I'm tired of this kids' stuff. If we're gonna fight, we're gonna fight like we're gonna kill each other. Otherwise I'm never gonna be a knight. Sound right?"

I'm sure if The Baron were here he'd object to that, but he's skipped all of these knightly training sessions, so I tried to speak up instead, 'cause I knew what was coming. Logan didn't let me interject, though.

"Can it, pops!" he barked. "Right. We fight with weapons. And I'm calling my bodyguard to do it. If you don't fight to kill, Eve, I'm not gonna learn to be a knight from you anymore."

Ten minutes and a lot of screaming later I was standing in the middle of the sparring range, a spear propped over my shoulders since I can't hold one, facing my daughter in mortal combat. She had a freaking lance, diary, and she was swinging it around with one hand.

You need to understand my perspective, diary. I didn't just not want to fight my daughter because she's my flesh and blood. I didn't want to fight her because she KILLED A FUCKING MAMMOTH WITH A DAGGER. She mowed down an army of goblins IN HER PYJAMAS. She's easily the strongest creature in the castle, and I knew that if we fought to the death, it would be MY death, and I had no reason to think that she wouldn't murder me.

So when Logan yelled 'BEGIN', well, I figured, why not, and I pooped my pants. I'd been holding it in for some time. Then came the lance, and everything went dark.

When I woke up, I had full trousers and a lance tip in my shoulder. Never been lanced before, but the bandit I've been stabbed before, and the feeling is close to the same.

Logan was peering down at me, grinning. "Hey, progress! We did it, pops! She didn't kill you! That's, like, a sign of love! Why do you stink so much?"

Couldn't answer. Arm hurt too much. Still does - I'm lucky she didn't get my writing arm, or we wouldn't be having this conversation, diary.

Logan ordered his royal guards to pick me up and take me to the nobles' medical ward to get patched up, which was nice of him. What wasn't so nice is what he said next, which answered WHY he'd been trying to help me out with Eve all this time:

"Make sure he lives, boys. He's gonna be my father-in-law when I marry Lord Knight Eve."

Told you. Metaphorical stab.

I'll talk about this more on Monday. For now, I wanna sleep.

She was JUST BORN,

Dragomir the Pin Cushion

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