This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living and deceased or actual events are completely intentional.
*****
A man once asked me what I wanted to become
A man once asked me who I wanted to become
Myself, I confessed
Someone else, I declared
He frowned
He smiled
As atonement,
As gratitude,
I will not let anyone bring disgrace to his final moments.
Please, somehow let his final moments be passed on.
With that, shall we begin?
“My job is to fight vampires, not to oversee magi squabbles.”
“Eyes that see into the world… You might be what they call the egg of a Magician, then.”
“We’re fighting together because we want the same thing. Wasn’t overcoming death your dearest wish, Berserker?”
“Slight, aside…”
DO NOT FORGET. THAT BAND WAS NOT BUILT IN A DAY. YOU CANNOT DENY IT. YOU CANNOT STEP ON IT. YOUR GLORY WAS BORN FROM THIS SIN.
“Oh, Magnituning? It’s a race held in Japan.”
“I think you should have tried harder to understand how your stepmother felt.”
“Master Alcatraz, it hasn’t been that long, has it?”
“If you’re scared, just come to me. I’ll make sure you live forever.”
“How does it feel, to meet a bona fide monster?”
“Imagine a doll that repeats ‘I love you’ even if it’s cast aside, forgotten, worn it down until it’s unrecognizable while expecting nothing in return. That heartbreakingly pure sincerity, how... how do you begin to make amends?”
“It’s strange, isn’t it - the more we break, the more human we become. The more we burn, the more beautiful we become. Is that love?”
“It’s okay to be a victim. But you’re not a victim, are you, dearie?”
“Don’t worry, one day, you’ll surely hatch.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“I don’t think... I like myself.”
The mythology of the forsaken has been compiled.
The mad fire within the Holy Grail has been set alight.
1. Sell me on Fate/Mythologie’s premise.
A Holy Church organized Grail War set in suburban Central California. The death of a legendary bishop throws the bureaucratic apparatus in charge of mediating a Grail War into disarray. A schism in the Church’s Grail War organizational committee forms leading to two Church factions proclaiming they are the rightful overseer while magi do battle with their Servants to make their wishes come true. Mythologie attempts to reframe the Strange Fake experience in a contemporary US West Coast setting with a heavy focus on Holy Church machinations.
2. How is this not just another Grail War?
On the surface it is. Seven Masters summon Heroic Spirits in the form of Servants to fight for a cup. Each Master assumes they are the sole person who truly understands the Nasuverse and everyone else doesn’t know what they’re talking about.
3. I haven’t read or watched X. Will that impede my enjoyment?
Possibly. Mythologie can be read as a stand-alone work. All vital worldbuilding in the story is explained. However, there are references and counterpoints that a working knowledge of the Nasuverse will help you notice.
4. Is Emiya Shirou featured in the story?
Yes. As a minor character.
5. Where in the Nasuverse timeline does this story fall?
Mythologie is a “sequel” to Strange Fake. Because Strange Fake has not finished as I’m writing this, it doesn’t have too major an impact but the nature of what happened in Snowfield is a looming shadow over the characters and story. That being said, being set in the Strange Fake timeline means there are both Dead Apostle Ancestors and Servants. Furthermore, Mythologie references and follows the Fuyuki Fifth Grail War from Fate/School Life which is a modified Heaven’s Feel route. In terms of a specific time period. It is set post-2016, pre-COVID.
6. What is your update schedule?
Irregular. I like to complete something before posting. As a compromise, I’ll be offering monthly progress reports.
EX. It’s spelled mythology or is this French?
You can decide whether to spell it as mythology after reading.
Structure
Fate/Mythologie will be split into four volumes and told primarily from two first-person perspectives. After each volume is finished, a pdf will be complied and made available for download and sharing. The pdf will be a “definitive” version with some cosmetic editing and include character profiles. The same profiles will be linked in the story.
I will be trying to upload Mythologie to as many platforms as possible; however, due to the limitations of the websites, some formatting will be left in BB code. The most authentic experience be either the pdf or the Beast Lair version.
Currently, the volumes are outlined as such:
Volume 1: Day 1 - 3
Volume 2: Day 4 - 7
Volume 3: Day 8 - 10
Volume 4: Day 11 - 13
"Made me rethink the last 10 years of Fate fanfiction in a single night."
—Hidden Blue
"It was an amazing story. I'm glad I could find something this good on this site [Spacebattles].
—GlassesLion
"I feel lightly disgusted mentioning Worm even in the same conversation with this fic, but gotta shape your message for the crowd, right?"
—BlueHelix
"Been a wild ride thus far, and will stand by until the story's end"
—SleepMode
I dearly like this story. Reading the update on my way to and from work these past few weeks has been a delight. I hope to see it continue!
—Patsykake
“... he has a very good grasp on the mechanics and tone, making for very faithful and lore-compliant stories that are still pretty well-written.”
— all fictions
"...it is much much better than 99% of Nasuverse fanfictions and is written by a good author. The researches are intensive and lores are on point, with little to no mechanics problems and cleverly inserted references as well as an engaging story line."
—mkhang
"... this is infused with a je ne sais quoi of distinct atmosphere and bite, which made me feel something, so thank you for writing this."
— dharmagic
"... This is the best thing going in Type-Moon fanfiction right now."
— Imperial
"An interesting Grail War. Mystery, action, suspense... very well intertwined. OCs are good, as is the usage of canon characters. And I admit to a large weakness as to obscure references, which are nicely scattered around."
— Who?
"I must say this though. This fic feels so authentic to the TM spirit, that if showed me just the chapters and nothing else, I would have been convinced this WAS a new TM LN or something."
— SirGauoftheSquareTable
"It's rare to come across a fanfic that I can really say captures the original's spirit so thoroughly"
— RoydGolden
“reads like twilight or something.”
— Sesetubers
"8/10 made me pick up twilight"
— Leftovers
Last edited by You; April 2nd, 2021 at 05:51 PM.
Originally Posted by FSF 5, Chapter 14: Gold and Lions I
Dumas flashed a fearless grin at Flat and Jack as he rattled off odd turns of phrase.
"And most importantly, it's me who'll be doing the cooking."
I'm always down for a Youfic, so consider me as down as ever.
McJon01: We all know that the real reason Archer would lose to Rider is because the events of his own Holy Grail War left him with a particular weakness toward "older sister" types.
Anything from the author who wrote Moon's Corral instantly goes on my To Read list. I am 5000% jazzed.
Spoiler:
Originally Posted by You when all the evils have given up their waifus, all the greats have left for med school, and there are no more at least 3 day battles to be fought what is left is
not Tsukihime 2
not DDD3
not even Girl's Work
but f/go
and now f/go english
that is what is waiting for you at the end of schadenfreude
For someone who's not as familiar with the crossover(s) mentioned in the opening, what am I supposed to expect? I mean, really unsure what Magnituning is supposed to be.
...actually, let me rephrase that: What crossovers are there, and how do I get to know them better?
I didn't even pick up on the fact that this is meant to be a crossover. I thought it was a clusterfuck Grail War with a million and one moving parts like Fate/Somnium Summer Redux.
Last edited by Imperial; June 6th, 2019 at 01:31 PM.
Spoiler:
Originally Posted by You when all the evils have given up their waifus, all the greats have left for med school, and there are no more at least 3 day battles to be fought what is left is
not Tsukihime 2
not DDD3
not even Girl's Work
but f/go
and now f/go english
that is what is waiting for you at the end of schadenfreude
Magnituning is an obscure picture story thing from the compilation that also featured Sora no Soto. I call this a crossover in jest - in truth the trailer and the characters/archetypes I can identify bring to mind a classic all-inclusive HGW premise that draws from all over the TM corpus.
Thank you everyone for your interest. I'll be posting the Prologue and the first chapter later tonight. In terms of release schedule for right now, you can except a roughly 3000 word chapter every week for about 3 months.
Originally Posted by FSF 5, Chapter 14: Gold and Lions I
Dumas flashed a fearless grin at Flat and Jack as he rattled off odd turns of phrase.
"And most importantly, it's me who'll be doing the cooking."
Uh, question... when you say you'll be posting the Prologue and first chapter tonight, what time zone are you in? I had honestly expected the Prologue and first chapter to be in a couple days from now.
Uh, question... when you say you'll be posting the Prologue and first chapter tonight, what time zone are you in? I had honestly expected the Prologue and first chapter to be in a couple days from now.
I'm currently living in New Zealand. So yeah right now it's almost 4pm 06/07/2019
Originally Posted by FSF 5, Chapter 14: Gold and Lions I
Dumas flashed a fearless grin at Flat and Jack as he rattled off odd turns of phrase.
"And most importantly, it's me who'll be doing the cooking."
Thank you everyone for your interest. I'll be posting the Prologue and the first chapter later tonight. In terms of release schedule for right now, you can except a roughly 3000 word chapter every week for about 3 months.
Interesting choice of words -- "for right now"
Is that to say you have 12 chapters prepared ahead of time and then you'll wing it the rest of the way? Or it's only going to be as long as what you already have prepared?
I will read it either way.
Spoiler:
Originally Posted by You when all the evils have given up their waifus, all the greats have left for med school, and there are no more at least 3 day battles to be fought what is left is
not Tsukihime 2
not DDD3
not even Girl's Work
but f/go
and now f/go english
that is what is waiting for you at the end of schadenfreude
Is that to say you have 12 chapters prepared ahead of time and then you'll wing it the rest of the way? Or it's only going to be as long as what you already have prepared?
I will read it either way.
Yup, the former
I started on 13 but then the big dump of last encore script -> requiem -> strange fake -> case files happened. So I only started 13 yesterday night.
Last edited by You; June 7th, 2019 at 01:45 AM.
Originally Posted by FSF 5, Chapter 14: Gold and Lions I
Dumas flashed a fearless grin at Flat and Jack as he rattled off odd turns of phrase.
"And most importantly, it's me who'll be doing the cooking."
I will kill. I will let live. I will harm and heal.
None will escape me. None will escape my sight.
Be crushed.
I welcome those who have grown old and those who have lost.
Devote yourself to me, learn from me, obey me.
Rest.
Do not forget song, do not forget prayer, do not forget me.
I am light and will relieve you of all your burdens.
Do not pretend.
Retribution for forgiveness, betrayal for trust, despair for hope, darkness for light, dark death for the living.
Relief is in my hands. I will add oil to your sins and leave a mark.
Eternal life is given through death.
Ask for forgiveness here. I, the incarnation, will swear.
- Kyrie Eleison
*****
0/ Unscriptural
My first memory was of the other kids in the ward telling me that it was pretty gay that a Catholic priest regularly visited me. I only understood what they meant a few years later. To clarify, the priest would entertain my ten-year-old self with stories about his students or his travels. He was an elderly bishop who happened to be in town and heard about my parent’s accident. In fact, the first time I heard about ‘the accident’ was from his lips.
Car accident. Drowning. You almost drowned too.
The accident removed all ten years of my memory, so I was more relieved than sad when I heard the news.
“So that’s why I see bubbles when I’m asleep.”
He couldn’t look me in the eye.
The next day, he came back without the youthful glow that was uncharacteristic for a man that bore his burdens, yet was characteristic of his nature. All his travels seemed less fantastic, more mundane; all the people he had met seemed less magical, more pedestrian.
“Chris,” he said. “I don’t want to lie to you. Your parents didn’t die in an accident, they were killed by a monster. I’m part of an organization that is supposed to protect people. I’m sorry. We couldn’t save them.”
I think at that point I started crying. Incredulous words from an incredulous person, I know. I wasn’t mourning the parents I never knew or my own uncertain future. These were frustrated tears mourning the me who should have been mourning his parents.
He stayed with me until I had cried my eyes dry before excusing himself. Later that night the other kids all gave me their desserts. I remember one older kid patted me on the back and told me she would put in a good word for me with her father. He was a lawyer.
It must have been a week before the bishop visited me again. I think it was beyond my ten-year old self to have considered it was due to the legal prowess of that girl’s father, but that’s what I want to believe I thought happened when he came through the door. The moment he sat down, I told him that I was onboard. He tried his best to smile at that. From how he told stories, he seemed more like a person who smiled with his eyes.
“I thought you would say that. That’s why I wanted to give you as much time as possible to reject it. Becoming a member of the Church isn’t your only option.”
I knew that all too well. The kids in the ward would often either talk about what their parents did or what they wanted to do when they left the hospital: police officer, dressmaker, pilot, secret agent, hairdresser, unicorn, a wizard by the age of thirty, dog trainer, fairy princess. Me? I couldn’t help wondering about the boy who died with his parents in that lake, the boy who owed me nothing, but whom I owed my current life. If I could be anything, anyone that I wanted to, then I think I would like to be him so that boy wasn’t forgotten.
I didn’t say that out loud. I don’t think that my ten-year-old self could articulate something that raw but contradictory. I probably said I wanted to make my parents proud or wanted vengeance against the monster. Whatever I said didn’t satisfy the bishop who apologized and said that he couldn’t take care of me. That role would fall to one of his students.
Her name was Cherry. At first, I heard it as Cherie, but no, it was definitely Cherry. She blossomed into a smile and told me that she always wanted a little brother. Like that, I had procured a new family member.
“What about that old man in the corner? I’ve seen him walking around the hospital.” I pointed to the right corner of the sterile, artificial room the bishop and I usually had our conversations in.
The bishop looked at Cherry for a moment and back at the frocked old man.
“That’s Karabo. He’ll be your foster father.”
At the mention of his name, the old man waved.
“Since this is going to my last time visiting you, Chris. There’s something that I want to tell you. Do you two mind giving us some time alone?”
After shooing my new foster family outside, he helped himself to a plastic chair made for kids pretending to have tea on a comically tiny and misshapen table.
“I’m often shocked when I brush my teeth, Chris. I feel twenty-two but that’s not what that cheeky mirror tells me. In all my adventures, all the places I’ve traveled, all the people I’ve met, all the sins I can’t atone for, I’ve learned one thing. It’s something that took me until my dotage to realize and that’s why I hope you’ll humor me in listening.” He tried to lean back on the chair, “In this life, I hope you chose for yourself, you’ll meet a lot of strange people. In our line of work, you’ll see things and obtain powers that you didn’t know were possible. Mor – nay, most importantly, you’ll experience enough pain, sadness, happiness, and weakness to understand that you are nothing more than a mere human being. There are a lot of people in our world who are claimed to be holy or even saintly. Most of the time that’s some form of clericalism. All of us, no matter who we are, are merely idiotic, pathetic, weak human beings.”
“What about the monsters?”
He laughed, “I did call them that. This might be a heretical opinion but they’re not monsters. As long as anyone has lived a semblance of a life, there is no way you can call them a monster. They’re only called monsters because we refuse to try.”
With those un-priestly words, he got up, shook my hand, and gave me a hug. I still remember the smell of sandalwood.
“Bishop Dilo… I… thank you.”
He shook his head and smiled. The gesture refused to light up his face.
“This... isn’t a fate that you should thank me for.”
With those ominous words, he left. The next day I was discharged and my new mismatched foster family took me to my new home. Ten years late, but that was the day Chris Frampton was born.
*****
1/ Day by Day
“You can get up, class is over.”
Harsh, artificial light still illuminates the classroom even as the clock in the corner duly ticks towards five past noon. The glare makes me want to rub my eyes, but that would be rude to the only other person present. He rummages through his briefcase and takes out two round Tupperware containers.
“Gotta run, so let’s make this quick.” Mr. Stevenson’s lips may be puckered but his eyes aren’t furrowed. He should rush out before the line for the teacher’s microwave becomes as long as the cafeteria chicken finger line. “Got a good reason for sleeping in class?”
“Yesterday’s Mass went pretty late,” I manage to say without yawning.
Mr. Stevenson nods as if he expected something that wholesome from a wholesome kid like me.
“Well, it’s only your second time so I’ll let it slip. Just don’t set a bad example for the other kids, okay? You’re a good kid, so I’m counting on you for that.”
He grabs a snack-sized packet of Let’s out of his bag in reply to my short smile.
“Want ‘em?”
Before I can answer they land on my pencil tin — official merchandise of an ironic webcomic that’s already ‘so last year’ — with an initial crackle before a softer crunch. Original flavor. Probably the last packet from a Costco case.
“Cutting this month,” he explains without being asked before rushing out the door to microwave what must be his meal prep.
Ruminating on the chips, I make my way through the school corridors. It’s hard not to feel the oppressive spirit of the institution when it’s scrawled onto butcher paper emblazoning the walls. Some of the people I come across say hi, but everyone’s in too much of a subdued rush to get to the cafeteria to stop for a conversation. Chicken fingers today. It’s the panko, some of the kids will tell you. But a bag of Panko is two dollars at Albertsons. Nah brah, they get the same chicken as McDonald's; it’s like eating a huge McNugget. No matter who you talk to, they will always stretch out the ‘huge.’
I stop at my locker, drop my bag, fiddle with the combination, fail once, make a face at my locker, and try again before retrieving two thermoses’.
“Reckon Mr. Stevenson is a Costco dad?”
From the speckled, pale linoleum floor, Kayla opens her mouth to answer, closes it, and then opens it once more to assert, “Dude, I’ve seen him and his wife at Whole Foods. And anyway he’s too young to have kids, yeah.” She animatedly shakes her head.
“Doesn’t stop him from being a Costco dad.”
“I’m pretty sure you have to be a dad before you can be a Costco dad.” Her head bobs up and down in a series of half-nods.
“Yesterday’s leftovers.” I hand Kayla a thermos from the bag. “Weird how warm they are.”
“Chicken fingers beat leftovers any day, but like this looks so good.” She unscrews the thermos, takes out her phone and snaps a few pictures to be posted later before digging in. “Cherry’s always so cool.”
“You don’t even like seafood.”
“I like whatever Cherry cooks and err — yeah, sushi.”
“Half-priced California rolls aren’t really sushi.” I stab my plastic fork into a piece of cod. It’s not quite fit to eat just yet without wasabi. I tear at the slit of a takeout wasabi packet with my teeth and squeeze out a pea-sized dollop onto the fish before putting it in my mouth. Usually, ‘Wasabi Chris’ has a tube on hand but I was in a rush this morning so I only have the packets I keep at the bottom of my bag.
“Half-priced California rolls aren’t really sushi because they’re best sushi,” Kayla fills her mouth with shrimp. “You’re so lucky to have someone who cooks food like this for you every day.”
Genuine food. Genuine conversation. Fake relationship. Perhaps the only way that it can stand being this fake due to the underlying sincerity.
She hands me the empty thermos when she’s finished eating, “Thanks for lunch.”
“You know, Cherry actually thinks that we’re dating.”
A slight frown pushes her features back when she responds, “Sorry, so does my dad,” with a lowered voice.
You moved from New York to this town slightly less in the middle of nowhere than Bakersfield. Your superlative was ‘most quiet’ in middle school but you’ve become slightly high-school attractive since then. You hate the spotlight, yet are still rather thrilled with the attention that comes with being the ‘new girl.’ Rightly nervous about fitting in at this school, you feign poise, trying to convince others that you’re pretty ‘lit’ but still ‘chill af’ before you’re labeled as the quiet kid all over again. So, you do something that the New York you would never do. The most obvious thing to convince your dad and everyone else at school that you fit is to imitate every movie and song targeted towards teenage girls. You get a boyfriend. But you don’t believe you have the confidence or the special something that the popular girls have to transpose film into reality so you settle for convincing a non-threatening boy to be your pretend boyfriend. That’s me. Why?
“Everyone likes you ‘cause like… I mean, you’re easy to talk to.”
“Really?”
“And you seem like you’re good at pretending. Umm, like you would be good as a good actor, you know… sorry.”
Those were the words you mumbled to me when you exhausted all the fear-tinged courage were able to pull out. Because, you realized if you didn’t do something this radical you would fall back into that middle school you no matter how far away you were from where you grew up. Theater-kid jab aside, you don’t have to force yourself to apologize then smile when you say something like that. We don’t know each other too well, but I probably like you, anyway. After all, why else would I agree?
Like that, my fake RomCom consisting of lunchtime each day, the farmer’s market every Thursday night, and a pretend date a few times a month burgeoned. Does any more need to be?
“So yeah, you doing anything after school today?”
“Cherry wants me to pick up a pie. The old man’s birthday.”
“Oh… cool.” She smiles and looks down before looking slightly back up. “You’re the only person I know who calls his dad, old man.”
He is an old man.
*****
The town did try to shut the cafe down. What was wrong with Kreuzberg, they exclaimed. Why name a new one after a Nazi think-tank? Like that, the new coffee shop became the talk of the town for about a week. There were even town hall meetings about it. Cherry and Father Kelsey attended a few. Something about the Mission making sure everyone kept a level head. In the end, the smooth-talking interim manager who was also the head chef made the argument that the franchise had spread as far as Japan and even had a store in Romania without causing little more than a peep. Apparently, the name was thought up by the German owner and this cafe happened to either be his inheritance or the inheritance he would leave behind. Hearing this, the folks at Beda’s and the other German establishments threw some of their weight around. One of our own, you understand. Eventually, the town just threw up their arms. The cafe market was already too saturated, the housewives proclaimed to each other before Pilates, Ahnenerbe would be gone in less than a year.
It’s been open for over three years. They’ve all moved onto Hot Yoga.
“Picking up a large blueberry pie for Cherry,” I tell one of the waitresses who everyone calls ‘Green.’
She glances underneath the lacquered counter, “Let me check with the kitchen.”
I smile in place of an answer.
“Sorry, is ten minutes okay? Do you want something while you wait?” She says after returning, slightly flustered.
After telling her it’s no problem, I’m left with her abandoned flip phone while she attends to two chatting short-haired blond women. In less than a minute the store cats swamp me. This store has quite a few cats. Maybe the manager has a habit of picking up strays? If NorCal and SoCal have their premier cat cafes then the Central Coast has got to keep up, doesn’t it?
“Meow, Meow,” That’s from the little girl who creeps up the stool next to mine.
The cats all hiss at her before scattering. “You know — they don’t like you, Curie.”
She shakes her head. Her black hair almost seems blue and green in the dimmed light.
“They like me when you’re not here. They’re funny, especially the one who smokes.”
“Wow, that’s interesting.” My wavering voice tries its best to hold the disbelief in my stomach. Time to quickly change the subject, “Did that no-good Detective leave you on your own again?”
“Toilet.”
Speak of the toilet. The Detective struts towards us in his monochrome trench coat and expensive skinny jeans.
“Oh, it’s you, kid. Your pretend girlfriend dump you yet?”
Try as he might to get people to call him Detective, he’s still just a PI. A PI with a little girl as an assistant, both of whom I’ve only ever seen in this cafe. Questionable, I know. But, we’re regulars so we have little choice but to afford the other a modicum of respect. He might give off the impression of a side dish Cherry makes when cucumbers are on sale, but still, he’s still a person, like me.
“She’s doing pretty well. Thanks for asking. You two on a case?”
He looks at me with a half-scowl. I must remind him of some kid that he couldn’t stand with and without. “Better watch out, kid. Word in the cafe is something bad’s going down in that town of yours.”
“Shut it, girl. We have food at home. Hey, waitress!” He calls out to the fluttering twin-tails that were just about to slip into the kitchen. “Nitro cold brew and don’t skimp on the Ceylon cinnamon.” He looks back at me. “Advice — regular to regular. Couldn’t care less about you, but don’t let that woman who takes care of you get caught in this mess.”
A clear ring interrupts him.
“Order twenty-seven, blueberry pie,” A voice with the charisma of a fake priest, the timbre of a zoology professor, and the composure of a Buddhist monk calls out.
I pay with the bill Cherry gave me this morning before taking the paper bag.
“Thanks for the advice, Detective. This pie smells delightful, so I better get home while it’s hot.”
He shakes his head and dismisses me with a few waves.
“Hey, Chris.” The little girl looks at me, “Don’t die, okay? The cats and the Detective will be sad.”
I don’t know what to say.
“If you’re scared, just come to me.” She smiles and it must be a trick of the light because it almost looks like she has chelicerae, “I’ll make sure you live forever.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” I wave goodbye to the pouting little girl and leave the cafe with delicious blueberry pie in tow.
*****
Winters in Tolosa are rather mild since we’re only twenty minutes from the beach, an hour in severe summer traffic. It can get a little misty around the Seven Sisters in the early morning, but afternoons are always hot. That afternoon heat dissipates a few hours after sunset, so families and small crowds strolling and window shopping around this time aren’t an uncommon sight. I say that because halfway home, I shivered. I shivered even if there was no wind, the sun was still peeking over the horizon, and I was wearing my school sweatshirt. Then again, none of those things are much protection against a tidal wave of magical energy crashing into your body.
“Servants have the worst timing.” I scold the blueberry pie.
Last edited by You; February 6th, 2021 at 04:18 AM.
Originally Posted by FSF 5, Chapter 14: Gold and Lions I
Dumas flashed a fearless grin at Flat and Jack as he rattled off odd turns of phrase.
"And most importantly, it's me who'll be doing the cooking."
I'm really happy to see this and I'm really enjoying the fact you set it in California.
“If you’re scared, just come to me.” She smiles and it must be a trick of the light because it almost looks like she has chelicerae, “I’ll make sure you live forever.”
Considering how odd the idea of a PI with a little girl as their investigations partner is, and considering that, I get the feeling she's a familiar of some type.
Originally Posted by FSF 5, Chapter 14: Gold and Lions I
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