Wicked Saints

Setting: a fancy restaurant
At Rise: a Woman sits trying to catch the attention of a well dressed waiter without being too demanding or rude

WAITER
Yes, Madame, how can I help you?

WOMAN
I just—I think there's been a mistake. You see, I ordered Wicked Saints, and I received . . . this.
[gestures to the book with obvious distaste]

WAITER
As you can see, Madame, it says Wicked Saints right there on the cover.

WOMAN
I know. I know! It's just—it was described as “devastatingly Gothic?” And—just, there's no transgression against the natural order, let alone a price to pay for it. No subversion of the romantic paradigm? There's no Edenic state of bliss to return to! Where's the atonement? Maybe you could say Nadya has forbidden knowledge being able to talk to all the gods, but that's just a thing she can do. There's no price for any of this. Do you see what I'm saying? And if these are what passing for Byronic heroes, these days, well, I shudder to think of the state of poor Lord Byron's corpse.

WAITER
I'm sorry it did not meet madame's expectations.

WOMAN
It's hardly your fault that the copywriter apparently confused Gothic with Slavic. Although the wordbuilding is so slapdash that it seems quite the insult to say so. The Slavic countries have such a wonderful rich history and are so often ignored by the fantasy genre. It's such a shame that this is the representation they get. Shaking a few Eastern European names over a generic, underdeveloped fantasy land doesn't really season the pierogi—if you will excuse my turn of phrase.

WAITER
Of course, madame.


WOMAN
And now there's an underdeveloped romance, and the female lead loses all her agency as soon as the love interest shows up. And I just—it's too much. I can't do it.

WAITER
You have our deepest apologies. Allow me to remove this and to fetch a menu so that you may choose something more to your taste.

WOMAN
Oh. Thank you. That would be wonderful.