Welcome to Modern Fantasy Quest, the journey of Tristan, a modern-day paladin in a not-so-secular world.

Questions/Comments/Criticisms are welcome at any time throughout the thread ols no bully

>>3869399
>A Pool structure. The magic will be allowed to disseminate throughout the chapel, forming a uniform ward of average strength. You might need to reinforce it every now and then though.

Pretty sure if someone is strong enough to get past medium, they'll find a way to cut off the spring type. And the Cage is worst, both highest maintenance and not directly controllable.

>>3869399
>A Pool structure. The magic will be allowed to disseminate throughout the chapel, forming a uniform ward of average strength. You might need to reinforce it every now and then though.

>>3869399
>A Pool structure. The magic will be allowed to disseminate throughout the chapel, forming a uniform ward of average strength. You might need to reinforce it every now and then though.

>Pool Structure

“A pool structure,” You answer, “Knowing my enemies in this city, any that would be able to overcome a medium strength ward would probably be strong enough to deal with any of the varieties of ward we have the means to create.”

“Got it,” Ike says, “I’ll handle the seals on the entrances to the chapel so you can focus on the prana well.”

With that, Ike grabbed a few sticks of chalk and a container of quicksilver before climbing upstairs.

As for you, you had your own work to do. While Ike had been gathering spellcasting components, you had been busy staring at the design of the Ward you wanted to use. Interpreting it had felt like thrusting iron wires into the folds of your brain, but now wherever you looked, you could almost see the faint outlines of the magic circle you had to draw. You kneel down on the stone floor to begin constructing the ward.

For a building-wide spell, your ward was surprising simple. It only needed three materials: chalk, quicksilver, and silver dust. First, you etch the the components you needed onto the floor with chalk. One ellipse around the shrine to turn it into a wellspring of prana, ringed with verses of moderation to moderate the flow of magic. Next, you draw your main spell circle, a large one in the center of the room with the intent of your ward encoded in it’s border in a Templar cipher. Then, you draw tributary circles connected to your main circle, to house additional components so that you might add extra attributes to your spell you could activate and deactivate.

>You add an attribute of invisible flame, to coat the walls of the chapel with fire at a moment’s notice

>You add an attribute of sterility, to turn the chapel into a pure and eerily sterile space

>You add an attribute of purity, to weigh down on unholy intruders

>You don’t add any attributes, magical barriers will be enough

>Other

>>3871196
>You add an attribute of purity, to weigh down on unholy intruders

>>3871196
>purity
I don't think the priest that lives here would like it if we torch his place once we save him from his kidnapping. And I don't see sterility being an issue.

>>3871196
>FIRE

Nathan didn't seem particularly unholy or impure. Also fire is always the best.

>>3871196
>You add an attribute of purity, to weigh down on unholy intruders
As much as i like fire this should ether help us in the fight or giving us time to run away.

>>3869418
>And the Cage is worst, both highest maintenance and not directly controllable.
I know it got voted down but if you read what it said you’d realize it has benefits completely unique to it.
>Instead of using Magic to ward the Chapel, you’ll sanctify iconography throughout the building, creating a magic-suffocating field which gets stronger the holier the room is.

>>3871196
Im gonna go with invisible flame.

Coz thats the most badass option.

>You add an attribute of purity, to weigh down on unholy intruders

To add an attribute of purity to the design of your ward, you place your tributary circle between your main circle and the shrine, before connecting the three components with a bridge. In the center of the tributary circle, you place your stoup of holy water. Your spell was almost complete.

You uncap and pour out a container of quicksilver, which forms a small puddle at the center of your magic circle. While the quicksilver pours out, the unformed spell flash-burnt into your mind begins to take on a coherent shape. Involuntarily, you begin chanting the words of the spell.

“The MIND is my will, CALCITE as my witness. HYDRAGYRUM as the foundation …”

As you chant, the puddle of quicksilver at your feet flows away, forming a cobweb of thin silver wires on top of your magic circles. You cap your container of quicksilver. The quicksilver patterns resolve into the shapes of your magic circles, staying neatly within your lines of chalk.

“PETER my predecessor, ARGENTUM the vessel,” You chant, scattering silver dust from your hand “the WHITE CRUCIFIX the rim, the near shore ...”

Inexplicably, the silver dust is magnetically drawn to the patterns of quicksilver, coating and encasing it. If the spell was successful, it would bond with it and render the malleable element inert.

“The THRONE of GRACE the font,” you say, turning towards the shrine and crossing yourself, “My DWELLING is as an aspersorium, fit for hosting My Master’s blessing.”

Thin ribbons of mist poured from the stoup of holy water, their ends dispersing into nothingness. By now, the room would be thrumming with magical energy, and energy you could not perceive. Your spell was almost complete. The only thing left was to actualize its shape. You kneel down in front of the shrine, closing your eyes and clasping your hands in reverence.

“Exorcizo te, creatura aquæ, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi, Filii ejus Domini nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti: ut fias aqua exorcizata ad effugandam omnem potestatem inimici, et ipsum inimicum eradicare et explantare valeas cum angelis suis apostaticis, per virtutem ejusdem Domini nostri Jesu Christi: qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos et sæculu ...culu … lu …”

Huh? What was that? What just … happened?

>Roll 1d100. The first 3 will be accepted.

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>3872973

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>3872973
Spiritus Sancti...

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>3872973
Our conditioning!

Maybe we should fix it right now

>67

You were in the lightless alleyway again. Who were you? The nameless street urchin who scavenged by the moonlight? Tristan, the Knight of the Templar? You had to be one of them, but who? The two you’s felt so dreamlike … so impossibly far away.

All you knew was you were leaning against the alleyway wall, in the dark, in the damp. All around you were shadows. And there were shapes wriggling in the shadows, many-limbed and grasping blindly.

But weren’t you waiting for someone? Who were you waiting for? When was he coming?

…
……
………

“What the fuck happened here?”

Groggily, you raise your head. Where were you? You were lying in the middle of a pool of quicksilver.

“The fuck, Tristan? What the hell happened? Are you okay” Ike exclaims. Ah, so he had been the one who had awakened you.
Ike grabbed one of the spellbooks and flipped through the pages
“Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear.” Immediately, the quicksilver puddle condensed into an inert, metallic sphere on the far side of the room.

“D-did it work? You ask.

“Work? Of course it didn’t fucking work! You don’t even have a magic circle anymore!” Ike exclaims as you pick yourself up, “What even went wrong? Are you feeling okay?”

“I don’t feel anything wrong … I must have lost control of the spell.” You answer. Ike mutters annoyedly in response, but there wasn’t much he could say. There was always a chance any magic of any kind could fail.”

“Well, regardless, I’m taking you to the hospital,” Ike insists, “You might have mercury poisoning.”

>”I’m fine, I promise.”

>”It’s too dangerous outside the Chapel.”

>”You’ve had basic first-aid training. Can’t you check yourself?”

>”That … sounds like a good idea.”

>Other

>>3874735
>”It’s too dangerous outside the Chapel.”

>>3874735
>>”That … sounds like a good idea."

>>3874735
>"It's too dangerous outside the chapel."

Jung will find us. If not him then Nathan.

Oh god, it’s so late

>It’s too dangerous outside the Chapel

“It’s too dangerous outside the Chapel,” You insist, “Going to the hospital would be paramount to letting Jungczant find me. Even if he doesn’t, Nathan will.”

“But you might have mercury poisoning!” Ike shoots back, “If you don’t get looked at, you might get brain damage!”

“I finished binding the silver to the quicksilver before I fell unconscious,” You tell Ike, “Half the reason for binding the silver is to prevent mercury poisoning.”

“Well I’m sorry, but I couldn’t tell whether the puddle you were lying in was mercury or not,” Ike sarcastically says, “But are you sure you binded the silver correctly? Your spell did fail, didn’t it?”

“I am,” you say, “The problem was not with the spellcasting itself, the casting only failed as a result of me falling unconscious midway.”

Ike furrows his brow, “Are you sure you didn’t fall unconscious due to the spell failing?”

“My conditioning would have stopped a loss of consciousness.”

Ike crosses his arms, “Weren’t you just talking about needing to recondition yourself? How can you be sure that your anti-unconsciousness conditioning is functioning?”

>”I didn’t fall unconscious when I was hit hard in the jaw by Nathan the last time I encountered him.”

>”You have a point … I’ll go to the hospital then.”

>”You have a point … but it’s still too dangerous to leave the Chapel.”

>Other

>>3876246
>"You have a point...but it's still too dangerous to leave the chapel. Can we test for it here?"

You posted so late it wrapped around to being early

>You have a point... I'll go to the hospital then

>>3876246
>”You have a point … but it’s still too dangerous to leave the Chapel.”

>>3876246
>”You have a point … but it’s still too dangerous to leave the Chapel.”

>”You have a point … but it’s still too dangerous to leave the Chapel.”

“You have a point,” You admit to Ike, “But it’s still too dangerous to leave the Chapel.”

“You might need medical attention.” Ike says.

“If I don’t go to the hospital, I might suffer from mercury poisoning. But If I wander freely around Winterpine, I will be found by Jungczant or his men.”

Ike sighs, “Fine then. What about this? Instead of going to the hospital, we’ll join forces for a few days. Enough time that we can be sure you don’t have mercury poisoning, and if you do, I’ll be close enough to take you to the hospital if something happens in the field.”

>”I’d rather stay in the Chapel.”

>”You’ve already gone out of your way enough for me.”

>”Do you really want someone who’s being hunted anywhere near you?”

>That it acceptable … How well defended is your base?

>Other

>>3877605
>”Do you really want someone who’s being hunted anywhere near you?”

>>3877605
>"You've already gone out of your way enough for me."

The token protest. Thank you ike.

>>3877801
I agree with this. It'll be nice to have an ally.

“You’ve already gone out of your way enough for me,” You say, but your words weren’t anything other than a token protest.

And Ike knew.
“Don’t treat me like the Good Samaritan,” He insists, “I’d go out of my way to help a fellow brother no matter what circumstances they were in.”

With every word, Ike confirmed your first impression of him more and more: potentially a close and trusted ally. As far as you were concerned, he already was.

“Loyalty is as commendable a virtue as charity,” You say, “Thank you, Ike.”

“Ahh, you’ll make me embarrassed,” Ike protests, “Just erase the seals I chalked into the front door while I call a cab.”

…

A dozen minutes later, you and Ike were in the early morning air, waiting outside the Chapel for the taxi. It didn’t take long at all for you to scrub the chalk symbols of sealing off the front door with a wet rag. If your ward had worked, the seal would have kept the outpouring of energy from your spring locked within the Chapel, forming a metaphorical pool of repelling energy behind it’s doors. But now that you didn’t intend to stay here, the purposeless seals would only be something for your hunters to track. You had re-hid the basement as well, although not before taking the notes Father Cullen had left on the desk with you. It hadn’t needed much hiding: You just needed to put the panel of wood back in its place, with the carpet and coffee table back on top of it. By the time you and Ike were finished covering your tracks, it was as if the two of you had never been in the chapel.

“There’s something you should know before we get back to my base,” Ike says.

“What?”

“I’m currently living with my family,”

>”I’m sorry?”

>”Wait … So you’re not an orphan?” (The Templar almost always recruit from the orphaned.

>”Rather Unusual … so how are they? Your family, I mean.”

>”Sorry for asking, but how well-defended is your home?”

>>3879281
>”Sorry for asking, but how well-defended is your home?”

>>3879281
>"Sorry for asking, but how well defended is your home?"

>"What is your family like?"

Inb4 Delilah is his sister

>Combine Options

“Sorry for asking, but how well defended is your home?” You ask immediately.

“Don’t worry, I’ve set up tons of magical defences” Ike reassures you, “No barriers, unfortunately, but I’ve got pretty good cloaks of mundanity and wards against scrying.”

“I see,” You nod. You had to admit, that more than met the standards for a good base. A proper barrier needed a strong metaphysical foundation to set up in the first place, which was a pretty rare thing in itself.

The taxi pulled up in front of the Chapel. Ike and you both glanced at the driver’s face as soon as it was visible for any facial tics that might indicate foul play. But neither of you saw anything too suspicious in the bored-looking face and approached the taxi.

“So how is your family?” You ask as soon as the two of you were on your way.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated,” Ike confesses, “You know how my last name is Lin? There’s isn’t. They’re the Washington’s. The mom is my late mother’s sister.”

>”Sounds complicated …”

>”So how did you find them?”

>“So, do they know?”

>”I see ...” (Stay quiet for the rest of the car ride)

>Other

>>3881428
>”Sounds complicated …”

>>3881428
>"So, do they know?"

>>3881428
>"So, do they know?"
Hey QM, question. How awkward of a person is Tristan?

>>3881750
Not very, unless you get close enough. He was raised in a Templar-run orphanage, which is a pretty isolated and sheltered environment. It would be the equivalent of being raised in a monastery where they studied behavioralism as well as the Gospel.
Which leads to Tristan being able to pass himself off as an overly-formal and reserved member of society, possibly a foreigner from another country, if he keeps his distance. But people would realize the difference in background and upbringing if they spent any significant amount of time with him, even if they wouldn't be able to figure out what that difference was.

>"So, do they know?"

“So, do they know?” You ask. Of course, you were asking about Ike’s status as a Templar, but you didn’t say it out loud due to the driver of the taxi.

“No, they don’t.” Ike answered, “Officially, I’m involved in missionary work.”

“Missionary work, you say? That may not be so far from the truth ...”

“It is very close to what we do, right?” Ike agrees, “I told them I was involved with Tentmaker Worldwide Missions.”

Tentmaker Worldwide Missions was front for setting up Templar infrastructure and supply depots around the world, even if it was involved in genuine nondenominational church building and mission and charity work.

…

“We’re here,” Ike announces. The taxi had stopped somewhere in a hilly suburb, outside a modest-looking house, albeit a slightly tall and thin one.

Before long, Ike had quickly paid the taxi driver, who then quickly drove off. The two of you were left alone in the early morning air.

“It’s Seven,” Ike says, looking at his watch, “The kids’ll still be asleep. Now’s the perfect time to ask any questions you may have.”

>”An outline of the family will help me to avoid stepping on any toes.”

>”Just their names and basic information will suffice.:

>”It will be easier to act as if it’s a fresh meeting if it really is a fresh meeting.”

>Other

>>3883540
>”An outline of the family will help me to avoid stepping on any toes.”

>>3883540
>"An outline of the family will help me to avoid stepping on toes."

>>3883540
>"Just their names and basic information will be fine."

>”An outline of the family will help me to avoid stepping on any toes.”

“An outline of the family will help me to avoid stepping on any toes,” You say. Since you were staying in another family’s home, you’d want to do that with as little trouble as possible.

“Okay then,” Ike says, “Firstly, there’s my uncle, Cornelius Washington. He used to work for IBM. He’s retired now, but he has way too much energy for a retiree … He’s heavily involved in the local baptist church, plays in Winterpine’s brass band, and still finds time to play poker with his friends on the weekends. His personality is interesting, he’s very outgoing even though he’s naturally quite introverted. You’ll get along without much of a problem. Then there’s my aunt, Shirley, my mother’s younger sister. She mostly keeps to herself unless you’re a member of her family or a family friend …”

“Ike?” A small, girlish voice asks. You turn to where it came from, a second-story window facing the street. The window had been opened and a young, elementary-age girl was standing in the windowframe. Presumably, she had been the one to open it.

“Asha?” Ike looks at the girl in the windowframe. “What are you doing up at seven in the morning?”

The girl, Asha, stared back with an expression of slight tiredness and extreme snobbiness on her face. “Actually, it’s seven-o-three What are you doing standing outside?”

“Warning my friend about you,” Ike shoots back. Asha pouts.

“Asha, who are you talking to?” A heavily accented woman’s voice calls from deeper in the house.

Asha turned back to face inside the house. “Mom, Ike’s outside with some strange guy.”

“Really? Deeaaar, Ike’s back.”

You hear something approaching the door with heavy thudding steps. A minute later, it swings open, revealing a tall, heavyset man with a thick pair of spectacles perched on his balding, greying head.

“You must be Tristan,” He says to you, “Ike said he had a friend staying in town. I’m Cornelius, by the way.”

Cornelius offered a massive, meaty hand in greeting. You returned a firm handshake.

>”I’m Tristan.”

>”Ike’s told me quite a bit about you.”

>”Has Ike said much about me?”

>”Awfully energetic girl you have ...”

>Other

>>3885015
>”I’m Tristan.”

Quick note, pretend that Tristan got a change of clothes from Ike while they were at the chapel so his are no longer bloody. I should have written that in and it's definitely something that Ike would have thought of but I didn't, but the story will completely derail if Ike's family sees Tristan covered in dried blood. I'm sorry.

>>3885015
>Nice to meet you.

>>3885027
It happened offscreen

>>3885188
Nice to meet you, Cornelius.

>>3885015
>"Nice to meet you. I'm Tristan."

>Combine options

“Nice to meet you, Cornelius,” You say, “I’m Tristan.”

“Tristan, eh? Well why don’t you come right on inside? Have you had any breakfast yet?”

“We haven’t,” Ike answers for you, “I’m starving ...”

…

The neighbourhood the Washington’s home was in was quite old, and it showed in the interior of the house. Stacks of comics, school assignments, and children’s books sat in disorganized piles on top of old-fashioned radiators. Plastic toys lay strewn about on the antique-looking couch. The inside of the house itself was rather small and cramped. The hallways felt excessively narrow, the rooms excessively cluttered. The house had been built on the side of the hill and the first floor had parts that were uneven with the rest of the floor. You actually descended a very short flight of stairs to get into the kitchen.

“My wife, Shirley,” Cornelius introduces you to a petite asian woman at the kitchen counter who was busy spreading nutella over assorted pieces of bread. At the mention of her name, she glanced away at her work to stare at you, the newcomer in her home. Her face was ageless, lined with the merest suggestion of wrinkles. She could have been anything from 20 to 40. However, she definitely looked at least a decade younger than Cornelius, who looked like he was pushing 50.

“You’re Ike’s friend?” Her words were heavy with a cantonese accent: singsong and spoken in short bursts, “Come, sit. Did you eat breakfast yet?”

“Auntie, I’m home too, you know?” Ike says in a mock-neglected voice.

Shirley sighed in response to Ike’s.
<<Out so late at night ...>> She accused in rapid-fire cantonese, <<What would your mother think?>>

<<Auntie, I was helping Tristan settle in ...>> Ike protests, gesturing at you,

Shirley only sighed again in response, before turning back to her work, focusing on it to the exclusion of everyone else in the room.

“Well …” Cornelius says, rubbing the back of his head from the awkwardness, “As you can see, we have plenty of options for breakfast … We have tea and coffee, cereal, milk, orange juice, toast and jam …”
He gestures at the granite kitchen counter, which was laden with the mentioned breakfast items.

>”Oh no, I don’t mean to intrude …”

>”I’ll just have some tea/coffee.”

>”Thank you, I’ll have (write-in)”

>”... Is it always this energetic in here?”

>Other

>>3886296
>”Thank you, I’ll have toast and jam."

>>3886296
>"Thank you, I'll have cereal."

Toast and jam is hardly nutritional. Make sure to pick whole wheat bran cereal btw.

>>3886454
Backing this,

>"Thank you, I'll have cereal."

“Thank you, do you have any whole wheat bran cereals?’ You ask.

Cornelius chuckles. “Yes, lots of it. Ike bought boxes of it from the supermarket yesterday.”

Ike shrugged, “It’s nutritious.”

…

“I guess I’ll try some of this myself,” Cornelius said, filling a bowl with cereal before pouring in some milk.
You, Ike, and Cornelius were seated at the kitchen table. Shirley was still preparing lunch for the kids … when were they coming down anyways?

“Morning, Daddy! Morning, Mommy!” A high-pitched, mischievous voice said.

“Good morning!” Mr and Mrs Washington chorused back, greeting the energetic boy who had scampered into the kitchen. He looked marginally younger than Asha.

“What, no good morning for me, Josh?” Ike protested.

“Sorry, I forgot you were here,” The boy, Josh, cheekily replied.

“Good morning Mom, Dad, Ike,”A tired-sounding girlish voice said. Asha walked down the steps to the kitchen.

“Asha, why do you sound so tired?” Shirley asked.

“Because Ike woke me up,” Asha languidly explained while walking over to the counter, “Hey Josh, why are you getting the Froot Loops?”

“I am?” Josh innocently replied.

“I can see you, you know,” Asha exasperatedly pointed out, “You know we’re only allowed those on the weekend.”

“Josh, are you getting Froot Loops?” Shirley asked her son.

“No.”

“He was.”

“I’m not anymore.”

“Okay, children, I want you to meet someone,” Cornelius interrupted the sibling feud, “This is Tristan. He’s Ike’s friend.”

“Hi Tristan,” Josh said politely.

“I know,” Asha said, “He was outside with Ike …”

>”Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Tristan.”

>”Asha and Josh, huh? I’m Tristan, Ike’s friend.”

>Just wave your hand, there’s no need to talk.

>Other

>>3887511
>”Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Tristan.”

>>3887511
>"Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Tristan. "

Boy I hope these kids don't get cleavered

>>3887511

>”Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Tristan.”

>”Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Tristan.”

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Tristan.” You say, responding to Asha and Josh’s greeting as cordially as possible.

“Why are all of you eating Ike’s cereal?” Josh asked.

“It’s whole-wheat bran cereal,” Ike said, “Very nutritious.”

“Yeah, but why today?”

“Hey, aren’t you going to get your cheerios?” Asha asked her brother as she sat down at the table and poured herself a bowl of cheerios.”

“Look, Dad isn’t eating his usual breakfast,” Josh pointed out.

“Oh yeah! Aren’t you usually on your recliner with a danish or cinnamon roll while you do your work?”

“Ike eats so much of them, it piqued my interest,” Cornelius explained.

“Hey, Tristan likes them too!” Ike said, clapping you on your shoulder.

>”They’re very healthy. You should give them a try.”

>”I like them. Is there another kind of cereal that you like?”

>”Do you not like them?”

>Shrug. You’re not going to get drawn into a passionate discussion about breakfast cereal.

>Other

>>3888621
>”Do you not like them?”

>>3888621
>"They're very healthy. You should give them a try."

Taking a shit has never been so easy

>>3888621
>”They’re very healthy. You should give them a try.”
Guse whos gots the autism

>"They're very healthy. You should give them a try."

“They’re very healthy. You should give them a try,” You say.

“I think I’ll pass,” Asha replies.

“Ike says he eats them because he needs to be strong and healthy to practise his Kung Fu.” Josh commented.

“Bajiquan,” Ike corrected him.

Josh shrugged, “Eh, too hard to pronounce.”

“Too hard to pronounce?” Ike laughs, <You might need to improve your cantonese as well, am I right?>

<My cantonese … very good> Josh haltingly replied.

“Is that true, Asha?” Ike asked,

“I don’t know if he can even say ‘mother’ in Cantonese.”

“Yes I can!” Josh protested, “‘Ya Ma’,”

“I’m impressed,” Ike said, “How about ‘Cheerios’?”

“Of course I can! It’s .. Um …. Actually, I can’t.”

“It’s ‘Maipian’,” Asha snootily informed Josh.

>”That just means ‘Oatmeal’”

>”You two know cantonese? That’s pretty impressive.”

>”Ike, don’t you feel ashamed targeting children?”

>Other

>>3889988
>"You two know Cantonese? Impressive. What made you decide to learn?"

>>3889988
>”You two know cantonese? That’s pretty impressive.”

>>3889988
>”That just means ‘Oatmeal’”

>”You two know Cantonese? That’s pretty impressive. What made you decide to learn?”

“You two know Cantonese? That’s pretty impressive.” You say to Asha and Josh.

“Yeah we do, not very well though,” Josh laughs.

“Speak for yourself,” Asha says.

Josh shrugged nonchalantly again.

At that exact moment, Ike lifted his half-full bowl of cereal to his mouth and scarfed it up completely, before setting down the bowl back down on the table.

“Enjoy your breakfast, guys,” He says. Hey, Uncle Cornelius, could we talk about something? In the hallway?

“... Okay?” Cornelius confusedly agrees, “I wonder what Ike’s up to now ...”

Both Asha and Josh giggle at their father’s comment.

“So what made you decide to learn cantonese?” You ask the kids once Ike and Cornelius are gone.

“Well, we didn’t really have a choice,” Asha informs you, “Both our parents know it so they made us speak it half of the time when we were growing up.”

Ah, that explained why Asha had called Cheerios ‘Maipian’. If she had grown up speaking cantonese half the time, Cheerios would have been referred to as ‘Maipian’ a lot.

“Your father knows cantonese?” You ask. Out of the corner of your eye, you

Asha nods, “He went on a mission trip to Hong Kong. He learned it before going.”

“Kids, finish your breakfast quickly, okay? It’s almost time for school.” Shirley calls from the kitchen counter.

“Okay!” Asha and Josh quickly rush to finish off their cereal …

…

Before long you’re finished your cereal. The kids were driven by their mother to school, backpacks and paper lunch bags in tow. You hear the creak of a recliner’s springs as Cornelius settles into a seat in a living room somewhere in the house.

And then Ike reappears from the hallway.

“Good news, Uncle Cornelius officially approved you staying here,” He says, “So that’ settled. Let’s talk about our game plan from here on out ...”

End of Thread

Another thread finished. Questions/Comments/Criticism welcome until thread 404's itself pls no bully

>>3891932
Thanks for running!

In your last post, you have a cut off sentence "Out of the corner of your eye, you"

What was supposed to come next?

Does Ike know what he's doing, letting us stay here while we're such a hot potato?

>>3891993
Whoa, oops. I meant to write that Tristan saw Ike and Cornelius went into the hallway.

Yes, but he also doesn't want you to collapse from mercury poisoning while he's not around, so he's willing to bet the defenses he covertly set up will be enough until he's sure you're fine.

New thread up.
>>3895794