Day Two Hundred-Nineteen: It's on

My wife… was badly beaten today. And it's all my fault.

That makes me sound like an abusive husband, I know. I swear I didn't touch her, diary. You think I could beat up Libby? Not likely. I once lost a fight with a house cat. True story. I'll never be a tough guy. Gods only know why I got named as a guard. Maybe my dad did it 'cause he wanted me to get slagged.

Huh. That makes a lot of sense, now. What an uncharitable ass he is. I oughta beat the stuffing oughta him, but lack of arm strength is the ISSUE here, so… y'know… perhaps not.

After my fight with Libby yesterday - and an encounter with a giiiiiiant pack of roaming cougars, all of which are now QUITE dead - I mulled over what could be done to bring her and Eve together. To, y'know, establish a common link between the two. But what could that link be?

Wasn't sure, at first. I've tried so many other little things to bring them close that, ah, running on fumes. (I know that's a SAYING, but I don't know what it means. Honestly, things get in my head that don't make a bit of sense.) Eventually I resorted to one of my favourite pastimes: lists. I went through all the things I know about Eve and Libby, looking for a link between mother and daughter.

Here's Libby's list:

- Daughter of carpenters, and a carpenter herself
- Arranged marriage
- Temperamental
- Violent
- Good with her fists
- Mood swings
- Likes the queen
- Enjoys machinery
- Can read
- VERY good at 'cuddling'
- Attractive enough that 'cuddling' comes naturally
- Spent time as a werewolf
- Likes to sleep in
- Dislikes lazy husbands
- May dislike husbands period

And here's Eve's list:

- Daughter of a guard and a carpenter
- Grew to the size of a girl in less than a year
- Violent
- Prone to fits of murder
- Unnaturally good with weapons
- Voracious, and likes raw, bloody meat
- Unemotional to the extreme
- Epic
- Spouts gibberish
- Not good at taking orders
- Poor with pep talks
- Very jumpy
- Blonde

I saw only one thing in common on those lists, one thing that, I hated to admit, might actually bring them together: violence. They both like to fight. Or they're both at least GOOD at it.

So… um… logic… at the time… dictated… that I propose they get into a fight.

…

I'VE HEARD! I've totally heard, diary, that men DO NOT TRULY KNOW EACH OTHER, until they've gotten into a fight. I don't know if that's true of women, but I REFUSE to let a sexist saying control my life. I REFUSE!

Aaaaand perhaps I should have let the former logic go to work. But I didn't know that at the time, so… so… y'know…

I asked. We'd just forded a small river, and all of the wagons had stopped to dry off, so I asked. I went right up to Libby, told her that this nonsense between her and Eve had to STOP, and said that they should get to know each other by duking it out. A friendly boxing match! Gloves and everything, just like with Captain Cedric!

Yeah. Because THAT turned out well.

Queen Daena, overhearing the conversation, quickly cautioned against the idea. I do believe she came down from her linguistic pedestal for a few moments and called me 'retarded'. Libby, though… Libby… she smiled.

"Y'know what, Dragomir, you're right." She dropped what she was doing - repairs on one of the wheel axles of the Matriarch - and tossed her gloves down. "That's the best idea I've heard all day."

"It is?"

"Yep!" She hopped off the side of the Matriarch, striding towards Eve, standing off on her own in a nearby field. "Best idea all year. Your entire life, even. Might make up for that devilspawn you call a daughter."

"Huh." I struggled to keep up. She was moving fast. "W… wait, maybe this isn't the best idea."

Libby didn't care. She charged straight for Eve, flexing her fingers, swinging her arms in wide arcs. Warming up.

And me? I had sudden mental images of Eve licking Libby's blood off her broadsword.

Eve has spared me before. She's hurt me, she even stabbed me, but she's always missed vital organs. I am CONVINCED that my daughter won't do me any fatal harm, possibly because I try my best to be nice to her. Libby, though… Libby's Eve's harshest critic… did the family exemption extend to her…?

Before I could catch up Libby was confronting Eve, hands on her hips, sneering at her daughter and growling every word. "Hey! Hey, you, freak show! Y'know, I always knew you were a mistake. Ready t'throw down?"

Eve peeked over her shoulder. "Olive?"

"Sure, whatever, fucknut." Libby cracked her knuckles and grinned. "C'mon. Fist fight. Get rid'a those blades of yours 'n show mommy what you can REALLY do. Or are you too chicken to take on a 'normal' chick like me?"

Eve wasn't. She turned fully to face Libby (and me - I was grabbing Libby's legs by this point, praying for her to STOP, DEAR GODS) and tossed her sword on the ground. And her gauntlets. And her upper armour. When she was done, the only things Eve had left on were her leggings, her Omega tattoo, and, uh, her long hair.

I blanched. My daughter was half naked in front of me. THANK THE GODS she has long hair.

Libby smirked. "I guess that's a yes?"

Eve nodded. "Deadly void."

Kicking me off, Libby charged, her boots kicking up grass. She brought her fist up, swinging it back and aiming for Eve's cheek -

- but Eve wasn't there when Libby swung. She ducked under the punch and levelled one of her own at Libby's stomach. Libby staggered backward, the air knocked out of her, and Eve used the opportunity to sweep the legs out from under mommy. Libby went down hard.

But she wasn't out. Somehow ignoring the pain in her gut Libby lunged at Eve from the ground, three quick jabs cutting the air. Eve dodged the first two, then redirected the third and slipped past Libby's hasty guard. Her punch caught Libby in the jaw. Again, humble wifey, down hard.

Libby didn't give up. She kept rising and swinging, breathless each time, knocked down just as hard as the last. Each time I tried to intervene, Eve batted me aside as easily as a whirlwind would hurl a gnat. The girl's strength is insane.

By the end, Libby was a bruised, bloody mess, lying unconscious in the grasslands. Eve didn't have a scratch on her. I've seen my wife take on an Omega Corpser and win, diary, so I can say with all confidence that Eve truly is a monster.

Once she noticed that her mother was out cold, Eve grabbed her armour and retreated over a hill to redress. She offered no apologies. I summoned some help and dragged Libby back to the Matriarch, laying her down in one of the resting compartments. A quick check from a doctor in the caravan confirmed that she wasn't in any great danger.

I sat slumped on the grass inside the Matriarch for the rest of the day, watching Eve up on the catwalks. She stared at the walls and said nothing to me. Nor did anyone else, really, 'cept for Queen Daena:

"I told you so."

You sure did, your majesty. Sigh.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Idiot