Well... shit. And fuck. And fucking shit. I HAVE to be in the capital for this. And honestly, so does Lily-Anne. And... it kind of looks like everyone assumed I remembered and planned it like this... Holy shit, I was THIS close to fucking this up. If I decided to go to Evergreens before going to the estate, for example? Damn, I need to write this shit down. Actually... I wonder if I forgot other things like this... Meh. Recalling stuff is not an issue, I remember everything with photographic clarity, but... the bit that ties memories with timing is wonky. I... Ugh.

As I stand there, family troops into the ship, greets my wives and generally settles in, along with a number of servants. I guess dad remembered what I told him about limits of ship capacity, at least. Sighing, I turn around and troop back in, taking a good look at the circumstances. Everything seems to be in order.

"Everyone settled?" - I ask out loud - "Everyone who departs is on board, everyone who stays is on the ground? Everything necessary loaded?"

As I get a wave of affirmatives and agreements back, my mood plummets further. This is... a problem. For now, I take the airship back into the air, steer it around and set it on the course towards the Parsee.

___

"Well, that just reaffirms what I already told you, dear. You need to take a good long rest." - mother chides gently.

"Indeed." - dad reinforces from his side - "Thankfully, nothing complicated had come out of this, so take heed of this and do better next time. No harm, no foul, as they say."

I sigh. Maybe I shouldn't have told them that I forgot, but this worries me. So far I was winging it, and it's clearly not cutting it anymore. So... What can I do to mitigate the problem? The basic solution is to keep notes. Maybe also hand over a copy of things to someone else so I'd get a reminder if I'm missing something...

"Bridgit?" - I request tiredly - "I have a favor to ask. If I fail to mention something that sounds important to you, can you please remind me? I am going to start writing my plans down, because at this rate, it's not a matter of if I forget something important, but when."

She nods, biting her lip lightly. "Mistress, you really should give more tasks instead of trying to handle everything yourself." - she proffers - "And not just us, you have a whole trading house. Give them the routine to handle, that's what they're for."

Hrm. She's not wrong, but... I need something done first.

"I have a thing in mind." - I muse slowly - "Alright, everyone... I'm going to tinker a bit, I think I have an idea to help with this. Ship's locked on the course, so just kick back and relax and do whatever, alright?"

They don't seem particularly reassured, but seem to be willing to let me try and handle this first. So when I retreat to the room I set aside for workshop (of course my flying residence would have a workshop, what kind of shoggoth do you think I am?), everyone settles in to do their own thing. Mom goes to nap, dad and Lily-Anne are discussing something, managing to draw Roxolane into the discussion before long, Moon Unit takes out my book on inorganic chemistry and starts jotting something down, Bridgit takes it upon herself to organize other servants into manning the kitchen and shuffling the things around for best comfort, and... hm. Antoine and Jean-Paul had settled down for a game of cards. Which, strangely enough, is considered one of the things every noble knows by rote, like appreciation of art and good manners. Weird. Then again, it kind of explains why gambling is such a problem in the top layers of society, if everyone is taught to gamble as a matter of rote. At least they're using acorns as a betting pool, not actual money. That... Wait, where's Cy... Oh. Hello there.

"Mohmee?" - she proffers, looking at me with an expression that should be properly described as "eldritch puppy eyes".

"Yes, dear?" - I offer as I lean in and pick her up. I can't help it, she's too cute not to cuddle.

"Mohmee, hwee wannah heelf?" - she ventures.

I have to smile. And pat her head. "And you're gloriously succeeding." - I reassure her - "Why, I am feeling better just looking at you."

"Nah zat. Peeepl heelf." - she insists.

"Like my harem, you mean?" - I clarify - "Dear, there are two problems with this. One, you appear to be roughly eight years old, and this is going to make your interaction with adults excessively frustrating. They will be prone to dismissive, condescending and coddling behavior. It can get pretty grating, and then you'll subject them to some stress-relieving mandibular rearrangements and I'll have to beat their faces back into proper shape. Two, we will have to reshape your teeth to give you a chance to amend the first. Eloquence is pretty much a must for people interaction. That being said, I don't mind finding out if you inherited any of my bioplasticity tricks, if you're game."

"Yah! Bohdee moldee!" - she cheers, and hops off my arm, rubbing at her cheeks thoughtfully - "...Mohmee. Hwee neets dho speek betta, rite?"

I shake my head as I sit down properly and pick her back up, pulling Cy on the lap. "Alright, let's try connecting first." - I proffer, as I hold up my hand to hers. It.. is a bit rough, but after a bit of touch and go, we do manage to establish a decent bandwidth mental connection, letting me stuff Cy's brain with all the vocabulary and speaking mannerisms I can think of. In the same time, she is perusing the sections of my mind that are responsible for controlling shoggothy stuff, and apparently picks up some things. I still have to, well... hold her hand mentally, as we shift her teeth into a somewhat more regular pattern. She's still going to sound very odd, but at least the words will now be formed more or less properly.

"Yeeshih... Eeesin... Teeestin... Testing... One, two, three... Testing..." - she pronounces slowly. Well, that's curious. She has this weird.. oooh, THAT's what happened.

"I think you got it downpat." - I offer, and she smiles at me as I continue - "Not exactly the human-shaped voicebox, though, you have two sets of vocal chords instead of one. Tuned, incidentally, with a little bit of pitch difference, so you're going to have a permanent reverb like this. I can show you how to clump them into one set, if you want to, but I think the current layout sounds pretty cool. I might experiment with redundant vocal chords myself sometime. Maybe start the Royal Canterlot Voice tradition or some such."

"I think I will keep it like this, mom." - she proffers. I see she's taking my speech patterns pretty easily. Good job.

"Fair enough. Now, I'm going to get the stuff out and try to tinker myself a tablet to keep the plans and schedule on. Actually, scratch that, I'm going to make a bunch of tablets with quantum link and give them to everyone in the family... Wait, no. Dad should probably have his networked with mom's, and optional connection to mine... Hrm. Actually, that might also be a basis for next iteration of my copperphones, I really need to introduce the networkable model instead of just handing out hardlocked links, this is getting a bit troublesome." - I muse.

"Don't forget to put Doom on it." - Cy teases.

"And Carmageddon too, I promise. Well, maybe just on yours and mine, for starters. Let the rest of the people get used to the idea of tablet before we throw computer games at them... Hm. Maybe Selene would like... no, nevermind, I just can't see her liking Doom all that much." - I continue, as I split off a second me to work at the worktable, while the first me remains at the chair, idly playing with Cy.

___

"...Alyssa." - this is what dad comes up with, as he turns the ready-made tablet in hands. As it is, everyone present got one. I have the master tablet, for obvious reasons. My harem and Cy get tablets that are networked between themselves, with option to turn on the connection to dad's cluster. Dad, mom and brothers get four tablets that are clustered with each other, dad's having the control bits for other three, just in case. And an optional connection to any of ours. Everyone's poking at them. In the end, I went with tried and true methods. Tablets are a thin span of wood with a stack of thin tin plates set into it with etched formulae that form the illusion mimicking touchscreen. There is a slot in the back of the tablet to stick a stick of copper in, like a battery. One stick should last for about a month of non-stop use, or about ten years of standby mode. Split the difference and replace them each year, easy-peasy. A rounded stick of silver-inlaid oak serves as a stylus, which automatically attaches itself to the tablet if let go entirely. I didn't put in much. There's scheduler, note-taker, which is a rudimentary text redactor with handwriting recognition, a calculator and a bunch of other conveniences, such as magical equivalent of barometer, thermometer, altimeter and a bunch of other meters, including poison detector and magic detector. Sadly, Doom will have to wait, still coding that one. It's stupidly complicated, compared to the rest of the stuff. I wish I could just download me a copy.

Anyway... dad sighs and sets the tablet down. "Alyssa." - he repeats - "While you have, once again, came up with something tremendously useful, this is definitely NOT what I had in mind when I suggested you should relax more."

"Dad, I'm sorry, but this is how I relax. I'm honestly feeling much better now." - I proffer in return.

"Yeah, mom would climb walls if she tried to sit still." - Cy pipes in suddenly, making everyone twirl to her in shock.

"What?" - she asks, taking a look around - "Mom fixed my voice. I'm now eloquent, and can people just fine."

"You certainly people well." - I tease back and we smirk at each other. Some jokes are just between us abominations.