I’m a weird, odd, random person. In every single way. People tend to find it funny, cute, charming, whatever you want to say in the beginning and then slowly but surely they realize –
“Oh shit. She’s ACTUALLY LIKE THAT. It isn’t an act.”
That’s usually when stuff changes, people dip, find excuses not to hang anymore, whatever. I know this sounds like a canned line or some pity line and it isn’t, but it really doesn’t bother me anymore when this happens.
I’ve just started noting the things I enjoy about the time I spent with that person and move on.
Charlestre and Charon d’Argelonne are Sérisse and Athénaïs’ eldest daughters. They are twins, both masc lesbians, and absolutely march to the beat of their own drum.
They’re always being ridiculous, cracking jokes, enjoying weird shit, acting however they want, going to comic conventions and so on.
Charlestre and Charon also happen to be the heir and the spare to the Gorgon throne, which can make things kinda…awkward at times.
Charlestre, or Charles/Charlie for short depending on the century, is the older twin by two minutes. But Charon walked first, which she’s never let Charlestre forget. Technically, Charlestre is the heir, but she and Charon share duties. Not that Sérisse is going anywhere anytime soon, but by the time we meet Sérisse, she has somewhat retired and has let the twins handle the day to day.
Here’s just a rough piece I wrote. I know…it’s rough, but it’s all human made. This is why I let Claude and Chat GPT help me reformat and ask the models to give me pointers.
Excerpt :
Sérisse took a pull on the cigar and exhaled toward the ceiling. Athénaïs sat next to her, embroidering what looked to be a rock vomiting. Across the table sat Charlestre and Charon, covered in paint, eggs, and god only knew what else. Christ.
“I want an explanation,” Sérisse said calmly. The twins looked at each other. She frowned. “Speak!”
“Listen, Mamma,” Charon said, waving her hand dismissively, “It’s not as catastrophic as you think, okay? It was necessary to-“
“Charon-Charybde,” Sérisse said flatly, “Are you the heir?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“Then why….” Sérisse paused to take a long pull…a very, very long pull, before continuing, “Are you speaking instead of Charlestre-Scyllaë?”
“You want an explanation, Mamma?” Charlestre inserted, “Well. Here it is. Charon and I were minding our own business crabbing and that bastard Napoleon ran up on us in his little boat or whatever the hell it is for no reason.”
“He assaulted us, Mamma!” Charon hissed, “With…eggs!”
“I see,” Sérisse said, then looked over her shoulder to the side parlor door, “You may enter now.”
The twins’ faces paled by several tones as Napoleon walked through the door. A very bald Napoleon. As in, no hair whatsoever.
Charon flipped Napoleon the bird.
“Oh…wow….you tattle taled on us! Because you LOST?” Charon yelled.
“You SHAVED MY HEAD while I was asleep!” Napoleon yelled.
“Because YOU can’t hold your liquor and knocked the candle over in the Captain’s quarters and now there’s a hole in the FLOOR!” Charlestre bellowed.
“I didn’t knock it over, CHARON did!”
“Wait,” Sérisse said, “Captain’s Quarters? You said you were out crabbing. “
“Um yeah, from the frigate,” Charlestre said quickly.
“YOU said they accosted you while you were standing on the pier,” Sérisse said to Napoleon, then to the twins, “And the two of you just told me that HE sailed toward YOU. In a boat, not a frigate.”
Athénaïs didn’t say a word. She kept embroidering.
The room fell quiet so quickly and uncomfortably in seconds. Then…
BOOM!
Sérisse jumped up and ran to the window. Just in time to see the Royal Flagship, now ablaze with violet fire.
“Mamma,” Charlestre said, “I can explain…”
“Yeah, it’s…not as bad as it looks,” Charon said, “It’s mainly surface damage. “
“It’s the sunset,” Napoleon said, “It makes it seem like there is fire when there isn’t.”
“Why I smell smoke?” Athénaïs said, her gaze still on her embroidery, “If not fire, then where smoke smell from? Hmm?”
And then it sank. Le Charybde Sovereign Royale. Sérisse’s Frigate. Le Roi’s vessel. The one no one was allowed to breathe near, much less sail without Sérisse at the helm. The frigate that had survived centuries, plagues, the French Revolution, watergate, feral cats, and countless pranks.
Now…it was driftwood.
Sérisse stood at the window, hands behind her back, wondering why the hell she even bothered getting out of bed that morning.
End excerpt
And yes…they’re referring to THAT Napoleon, because in this story he is also an immortal non-human.
Anyway. I’m the person always cracking a joke at the wrong time, or laughing when I shouldn’t, or causing mayhem. I did the famous Ed MacMahon “Hiyo” during a Teams call once and got crickets. Worse still, no one knew who he was or what Hiyo was and I was like “welp, if y’all will excuse me, I’m sure there’s an AARP meeting somewhere I need to go sign up for.”
Naturally, this tends to wear on people, but I mean, it’s just who I am. It’s gonna remain who I am because I’m cool with it. I mean I don’t know anyone else other than me who can walk into a Biloxi, Mississippi Shell Shop and find a shell island diorama complete with tiny flocked bears and write an entire story about it.
Hiyo is a classic and every generation should study it. Just saying.
