12:37pm, Glyfada, Monica's Apartment
Monica eyelids lifted like heavy curtains as the warm light of early afternoon came in through her window. She felt... empty. Her sleep was dreamless, and she was so tired that it was hard to believe that she had gotten any sleep at all. Groaning as she pulled the covers around her, she shifted her body towards the side of the bed as the events of the previous night began to push into her mind.
Maybe it was just a high. It felt so much like a dream now.
She would've sworn the world had returned to normal, except that the red, serpentine mark still sat on her left arm. She nearly called out for Chrysaor, but thought better of it. Given how the last night had gone, she already felt helpless, she didn't want to call for him like some needy toddler. She still had her pride, ignoring the possibility that she might have been calling for someone who only existed in her drug-addled imagination.
Slowly and with great temerity, she got up and opened her door, peering out into the small living space of the apartment. It was a small, square space with a kitchenette in the far right corner, a small circular dining table in the near right, and a living area with a dirty, stained couch and a modern-style coffee table across from a small but decent television. The bathroom was across from the bedroom, leaving a thin, pseudo-hallway between them with the living space now to her left and from an angle where the tv and couch were only barely visible. There was a balcony beyond the couch, but she hardly used it and kept the blinds closed for her own privacy.
No sign of Chrysaor. Maybe he left?
Continuing her child-like tip-toe, she walked into the living space, looking for any sign of life. Looking first to her left, she saw now five books on the coffee table. She recognized them all, being that they were all from her shelf, and recognized three in particular as being those Chrysaor had chosen the previous night. The other two were manga; a lesbian rom-com and a volume from a long-running Shonen, which she owned for nostalgia's sake rather than reading material. They were all face-down, and she could assume he had read them all. Manga aside, the novels were all around two or three-hundred pages- he must've been a fast reader, though, in fairness, he did have about nine hours uninterrupted.
She didn't see any other changes to her living space. She kept things pretty neat- not clean necessarily, but neat- and there was rarely anything left out except for some empty takeout containers or dirty dishes in the sink. Inspecting things more closely, the sink was empty, though in her half-awake state she couldn't remember if it had been the night before.
Looking at the table, she finally did see something. It was a plate of mini-waffles. They looked untouched, and sat at room temperature, meaning that they'd been left out for some time. She did have some mini-waffles in her freezer, so that must be where they came from, but why were they like this?
The balcony door suddenly squealed open.
Monica jumped in surprise and turned around to the balcony. Walking in from outside was the familiar Chrysaor.
"God- shit! Chrysaor!"
He flinched back, flustered, "What's wrong? What happened?!"
She sighed, her heart pounding, and leaned on the table for balance, "You scared me."
"Oh. Uh- sorry about that."
He scratched the back of his head, blushing apologetically- embarrassed.
"It's okay. Were you out on the balcony this whole time?"
"Ah- no, I just got back."
"What?"
"I've- uh- been on patrol. I wanted to see if anything changed after last night, but everything seems normal. Or, at least normal from the perspective of an outsider."
"Okay... that's good. How long have you been back?"
He turned his head quizzically, "Hm? I just told you."
He gestured behind him with his thumb.
She opened her mouth to speak, but decided that she didn't want to know. Things were weird enough without worrying about the fact that he just left and returned from a third story balcony.
She touched her temples, her mind moving like molasses. "Whatever... It's fine."
He seemed confused, but didn't take her reaction all that seriously, "I made you breakfast," he gestured to the plate of mini-waffles behind her, "-but, that was a while ago. Sorry about that, I didn't expect you to sleep in so late."
"Oh. No, it's okay, I appreciate it. Besides, I don't eat breakfast, so don't worry about it." She perked up a bit, "In fact-"
She picked up the plate and went to the fridge. It was mostly soda and condiments, so there was enough space for the meal once she covered it with some plastic wrap. Saving them for later, she turned back to Chrysaor, who stood awkwardly in the living area.
The silence was dense, and demanded to be broken.
"How were the books?"
He jolted suddenly, as if awakened from a stupor, "Oh. They were good, thank you."
"It's no problem."
-And the silence was back. Clearly, neither of them were conversationalists.
"Right," Chrysaor kicked the carpet a bit and looked back to her, "Do you know what you want me to do?"
"Uh-no? I... haven't really had time to think about it. I don't even know what's going on, really."
"Well, let me put it this way. When you get down to it, we have two options. We can be aggressive, and seek out our opponents, or be passive and let them come to us."
She looked at the floor, mulling over her options. "How would we 'be aggressive'?"
"Eh." He shrugged, "We'd have to find the other participants, Servant or Master. Many would rather stay hidden, but there are ways to lure them out."
She looked back to Chrysaor, "Do you want to stay hidden?"
He looked away from her and sighed softly; his eyes seemed to drift to something far away. He turned and fell onto the couch in a hunched position; elbows resting on his knees, "I don't have a strong preference. If I'm being honest, I'm not sure it matters."
She didn't have to ask what he meant. She was all too familiar with his thought process, being that it reminded her of herself, but that made it all the more disconcerting to hear from the one who was supposed to be her guardian.
"Tell me, Master, do you know who I am?"
"What do you mean?"
"Before you summoned- excuse me- before I was summoned last night, had you heard my name before?"
She thought for a moment, thoroughly confused, "N-no. Should I?"
"No, and that's my point. The more famous you are, the more impact you have on history, the more powerful you are as a Servant. I am... basically unknown. It was my own choice to be. Frankly, it's a miracle I can be summoned at all. Even in a normal Grail War, our chances would be low, but in a place like this- with such a rich history of powerful warriors- I don't favor our odds."
She couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She felt a wave of pity, and a hint of frustration. She didn't choose to be pulled into this, and the one who came to protect her was already giving up? It wasn't fair. Not to her, and not to him.
"Is that because of me?"
He wouldn't look at her. "Master... I am... a sword. I am someone whose potential can only be brought out by others. But- it doesn't have to do with you personally, please don't think that." He looked back to her with an apologetic gleam in his eyes, "Only one person has ever.... how do I put this?.... Used me effectively. He wasn't a mage, or anything either...he was just special, you know?"
So it was because of her.
Chrysaor stood up with determination, "Look, you've seen me fight, you know I can. If you want the Grail, then I, as your Servant, will do everything I can for you- provided that you understand the risks. If not, then we can find the overseer, and see if we can't arrange for your protection until the War's end."
She couldn't look him in the eye. This was all very sudden and difficult to process, so she didn't notice him approaching her. He placed one hand on her shoulder, and bent over slightly so that they were on eye-level. "You don't have to worry about anything. I'm here for you, Master. If you think this Grail War is too much for you to handle, we can surrender."
It is hard to argue with him, especially given his uncomfortable closeness.
"Is that really okay?"
He smiled warmly, "Of course."
She thought for a moment. If there was really a way out, it would be good to at least figure out her options. "You said there was an overseer?"
He removed his hand and stepped back to a more casual distance, crossing his arms confidently with a friendly grin, "Yep. The Grail War doesn't have many rules, but it has just enough to ensure fairness and secrecy. Every War should have a third party managing the conflict, usually from the church."
"The church?"
"The church and the Mage's Association have a bit of an arrangement." He shrugged. "They sort of counteract each-other. Their power-dynamic ensures neither becomes too powerful."
It was slightly troubling how many conspiracy theories had been justified since last night.
"And the Illuminati?"
"The what?"
"Just checking."
He cocked his head in confusion, but said nothing.
Monica continued, "So where can we find the overseer?"
Chrysaor shrugged, "Hard to say, but probably the biggest church in the area. If they aren't there, then they may at least know where we can find them. If not, then the temples would be a good second place."
"Why the temples?"
"They have a long history."
"Well, sure, but they aren't active anymore. They're all just tourist spots."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Is it that surprising?"
"Oh....oh." He blushed and looked away.
"What?"
"Well... I just thought...The Grail gives me information about the present, but puts it in a way I can understand, so..."
"So?"
"I was under the impression that you worked for a temple of Aphrodite..."
She looked at the floor. A strange mix of frustration and embarrassment flushed her face red.
"Sorry-"
"Nope."
"I didn't mean to-"
"Stop." She raised her hand with the palm out, and looked at him with absolute seriousness, "It's okay. Just don't bring it up again, alright?"
He looked like a scolded child, "Yes, Master."
"-And please don't call me 'Master'."
"Okay. What should I call you?"
"Monica is fine."
"Alright, Monica, what should we do?"
"I guess we should find the overseer first. I'm not sure what I want to do yet, but I think finding him will be a good start."
"We have a plan, then. Do you know where the church is?"
She tried to imagine her mental map, but was quickly reminded of its incredibly limited scope. She wasn't religious, so she didn't know of any church nearby, and couldn't remember ever seeing one since she first came to the city, not because there weren't any, but because she paid so little attention to such things.
"No, but I can find out. Give me a few minutes."
She pushed past Chrysaor and went to her room- the door was hardly three paces away. Chrysaor followed obediently, but she turned to him and blocked the doorway.
"You stay here, Chrysaor."
"O-okay? Can I ask why?"
He was so innocent. It was hard to think of him as a warrior.
"No, it's just that this is my room. I just need a little space to myself."
His eyes drifted slowly, likely noting the contradiction with his intrusion to her bookshelf in the night, "...Alright. I'll wait here."
"Thank you."
She closed the door and leaned up against it, taking a deep breath. She didn't want to see him right now. They met when she was in a state of panic, and after coming home from a job she hated. He clearly had an image of her, and that was troubling. He had already seen so much of her: her work, her tears, her confusion, her home. She had let him in her room last night as a courtesy, but now, she needed to reclaim it.
He had snuck in last night. Only to get books, sure, but no one had been in her room since she ran away, and having someone in the space she'd made for herself was hardly comforting to say the least. His very presence made it hard for her to think, to process. He represented something completely alien, and the way he tried- no- succeeded in making the abnormal seem normal threw her mind into a loop. She needed to establish some distance before he got too comfortable.
-And before she got too comfortable with him.
She had a life. A shitty one, sure. A terrible one, yeah. One that made her want to-
She stopped. Then shook her head. She couldn't let herself think that she didn't have options. She wasn't helpless. He had his life, and she had hers, and there was no reason to continue with him if it turned out to not be in her best interest.
-But that wasn't the problem right now. With haste she flew to the far corner of the room where she had a small, quaint desk. Her laptop sat unceremoniously atop it, and she yanked the computer open, already knowing what she was going to do. Immediately opening a new window, she went to the search bar, typed "biggest churches in athen-" and stopped. Hesitating for just a second, she opened a new tab and typed "Chrysaor".
The first result wasn't what she expected. Rather than the normal internet encyclopedia that appeared in response to such queries, it was a more obscure site that read simply, "Chrysaor was the brother of the winged horse Pegasus and son of Poseidon and the Gorgon Medusa. When Medusa was decapitated by Perseus, both Chrysaor and Pegasus were born at the same time. Little is known about Chrysaor; he was considered a stout-hearted warrior, and his name means 'he who bears a golden sword'."
She found another source, it said more-or-less the same, but added that he was the father of a monster called "Geryon".
Chrysaor told the truth: he was unknown. She couldn't find any more information than that. She was unsatisfied, but for the sake of time she went back to the previous tab- being sure to keep the other one open- and resumed her search.
Athens had a long history with the Church, as did Greece overall, and there were many, many potential places for this 'overseer' to operate from, including one large church perhaps a half-hour's walk from her home. She made note of a total fifteen different locations, and transferred them to the Map app on her phone.
Satisfied with her work, she got dressed in some actual clothes- baggy jeans and a plain hoodie- and returned to Chrysaor in the main room. He was sitting on the couch with a rather pitiful expression. He looked to her as soon as she entered.
"So, do you know where we're going?"
"More or less." She shrugged, "Lots of churches around, so we'll probably be travelling a lot before we find the right place."
He smiled, seemingly impressed, or maybe just curious, "Sounds great. I don't know how long they'll be open, so we should probably get moving."
It was one o'clock now. Most of the churches would likely be closed by five or six.
"Crap! You're right! C'mon, we need to go!"
She started to jog towards the door, grabbing her purse from the counter as she did. She rushed to the door and hurried to unlock it, and Chrysaor followed behind her at close pace.
She looked at him. He wore a goofy grin across his face. An expression of childish glee paired with a joyful chuckle.
She smiled softly, looked away, not really sure why, and rushed out into the streets of Glyfada.
....