July Writing Prompt 7: unwanted attention
Title: We Are Gargoyles
Author: Pompey
Universe: AU-ACD crossover with Disney’s Gargoyles.
Warnings: supernatural AU
Word count: 1212
Summary: An offer is made. Part 7/?
Prompt: July 7 - unwanted attention
I had no set destination after I left Holmes at the train station. It was enough to be on the move in the night, testing out a new nighttime vision that seemed to be the last of the transformations. I could not see as clearly as I could in sunlight but it was far easier to perceive objects and motions than it had been even a day ago. Nevertheless, I did not see the body that flung itself onto me, knocking me to the ground.
I found myself tucking into a roll and flinging off my attacker, only to stop when starlight glinted off a steely blade aimed at my throat. Said blade was held by a winged creature with bluish skin and a shock of bright red hair held away from her forehead by a gold band. That the creature was female was abundantly obvious, as the curves of her figure were barely clad in an immodest pale skirt and a downright indecent sleeveless blouse that left her abdomen uncovered. “You are trespassing on my territory. Who are you?” she demanded.
“My name is John Watson.”
Immediately the blade pushed harder into my skin. “That is a human name and a human answer,” the creature snarled contemptuously.
“Until recently, I was a human.”
She drew back her weapon slightly. “But you are a gargoyle now. How?”
It galled me to admit my folly, though it had seemed such a little thing then. “I read a spell from an ancient book.”
“There is a spell that turns human into gargoyles?”
“It was a healing spell. I didn’t anticipate it would have this effect,” I protested.
The creature sheathed her blade and turned slightly from me. “The stone sleep of our kind during the day has restorative powers for almost any injury, except for magical ones,” she murmured, although to herself or to me I could not discern. “You read it from an ancient book?”
“Yes, in Castle Wyvern.”
Her hand flashed out and seized my wrist. “Show me.”
“It is a long walk - ” I began but the creature cut me off.
“If it is at the castle, we can glide there. The air currents are strong enough tonight.”
“Glide?” I repeated. “Don’t you mean ‘fly’?”
“Gargoyles cannot fly,” she corrected me, contemptuous again but with a hint of amusement at my ignorance. “We can only glide. Or climb sheer stone cliffs and walls.” She waggled her claws at me and I recalled how I had destroyed part of my bedroom floor during the worst of my transformation. “Come,” she ordered, and tugged me towards a large evergreen.
As we climbed it, I felt the strength of the wind pick up. I was torn between an unease at how high up we were and an exhilaration at what I knew she would ask next of me. Indeed, with scarcely a conscious thought, my wings unclasped and spread. The female gargoyle smiled at me, and we both launched into the air.
If I were a poet I might find the words to do justice to the sensation. It is no wonder that man dreams of flight. It is a glorious, terrifying thing to leave the ground below you and swim through the air. Even I, merely gliding instead of flying and clumsily at that, felt a sort of pity for the earth-bound ones who could never hope to understand the joy and awe of wings.
We landed on the highest parapet, less by choice and more by concession to my inexperience. The female gargoyle might have been able to neatly spiral down into the courtyard as she insisted she could, but I had no such confidence in my own skill. Thus we walked prosaically down the steps and to the decrepit display case.
“The Grimorum Arcanorum,” the creature whispered, splaying claws over the glass case. “The most powerful book of human spells in the world. In any world. With this book, I could recreate my clan.”
“Your clan?” I repeated.
She gestured above us. “My first clan was all but wiped out by the humans while they slept. What remains of it, will sleep as stone until the castle rises above the clouds. Forever, in other words. And the clan I formed afterwards was destroyed by humans as well.” Her lips drew back from her fangs and she suddenly turned her back on the book. “No. I have changed my mind. I will not have filthy humans in my new clan.” Her eyes suddenly fixed on me. “But it would be good to have a real clan again. I have lived alone for nine hundred years. My mate and leader is among those who will sleep forever thanks to the Magus and our egg - all the eggs in the rookery - were stolen by humans centuries ago.”
I stepped back, not liking the intense look she gave me. “If you do not want to create of clan of humans-turned-gargoyles, I cannot help you. I was a human also before the spell. Why should you want me?”
“Because, through your spell and my bloodline, our children would be wholly gargoyle.”
“Children!”
She advanced towards me as a snake with a mouse. “You are male and I am female. We are the last two gargoyles left in existence - a new Adam and Eve to rebuild a lost world.” She held up her arms, I believe, to embrace me but this time it was I who grabbed her wrists.
“My nature is still that of a human,” I told her firmly. “I only returned to Scotland to find a way to reverse the spell.”
“And if there isn’t a way?” She laughed unpleasantly when I did not answer, and pulled out of my grip. “Think it over. There are worse things to be than a gargoyle.” With that, she effortlessly climbed up the courtyard wall, leaving clawmarks behind her, and launched herself from the low parapet into the night sky.
Slowly I climbed the steps to the parapet where the stone gargoyles crouched. Vines and mosses had grown over them, yet they were still impressive figures. Would it truly be so bad to remain one of them? Or was the power of near-flight in a life of eternal night even worth the sacrifice of walking freely under sunlight or moonlight, in human company?
It was only the graying of the sky that interrupted my musings. Dawn was close and I had told Holmes I would see him the next day - today, if I wanted to be accurate. But to leave now was to risk being seen by the villagers. It was, I finally decided as the first rays of the sun struck me, was too dangerous. Besides, Holmes was the world’s finest detective. He could deduce my whereabouts if anyone could.
Holmes was indeed waiting nearby when I awoke. My gladness fell away, however, when I saw his grim countenance and heard his news: as far as the villagers knew, there was no such person as ‘Owen Burnett,’ nor had Castle Wyvern ever had a curator.
Holmes gave me his assurances that his investigation would continue but I paid him only half my attention. The female gargoyle’s words from the night before were ringing in my memory.
Author: Pompey
Universe: AU-ACD crossover with Disney’s Gargoyles.
Warnings: supernatural AU
Word count: 1212
Summary: An offer is made. Part 7/?
Prompt: July 7 - unwanted attention
I had no set destination after I left Holmes at the train station. It was enough to be on the move in the night, testing out a new nighttime vision that seemed to be the last of the transformations. I could not see as clearly as I could in sunlight but it was far easier to perceive objects and motions than it had been even a day ago. Nevertheless, I did not see the body that flung itself onto me, knocking me to the ground.
I found myself tucking into a roll and flinging off my attacker, only to stop when starlight glinted off a steely blade aimed at my throat. Said blade was held by a winged creature with bluish skin and a shock of bright red hair held away from her forehead by a gold band. That the creature was female was abundantly obvious, as the curves of her figure were barely clad in an immodest pale skirt and a downright indecent sleeveless blouse that left her abdomen uncovered. “You are trespassing on my territory. Who are you?” she demanded.
“My name is John Watson.”
Immediately the blade pushed harder into my skin. “That is a human name and a human answer,” the creature snarled contemptuously.
“Until recently, I was a human.”
She drew back her weapon slightly. “But you are a gargoyle now. How?”
It galled me to admit my folly, though it had seemed such a little thing then. “I read a spell from an ancient book.”
“There is a spell that turns human into gargoyles?”
“It was a healing spell. I didn’t anticipate it would have this effect,” I protested.
The creature sheathed her blade and turned slightly from me. “The stone sleep of our kind during the day has restorative powers for almost any injury, except for magical ones,” she murmured, although to herself or to me I could not discern. “You read it from an ancient book?”
“Yes, in Castle Wyvern.”
Her hand flashed out and seized my wrist. “Show me.”
“It is a long walk - ” I began but the creature cut me off.
“If it is at the castle, we can glide there. The air currents are strong enough tonight.”
“Glide?” I repeated. “Don’t you mean ‘fly’?”
“Gargoyles cannot fly,” she corrected me, contemptuous again but with a hint of amusement at my ignorance. “We can only glide. Or climb sheer stone cliffs and walls.” She waggled her claws at me and I recalled how I had destroyed part of my bedroom floor during the worst of my transformation. “Come,” she ordered, and tugged me towards a large evergreen.
As we climbed it, I felt the strength of the wind pick up. I was torn between an unease at how high up we were and an exhilaration at what I knew she would ask next of me. Indeed, with scarcely a conscious thought, my wings unclasped and spread. The female gargoyle smiled at me, and we both launched into the air.
If I were a poet I might find the words to do justice to the sensation. It is no wonder that man dreams of flight. It is a glorious, terrifying thing to leave the ground below you and swim through the air. Even I, merely gliding instead of flying and clumsily at that, felt a sort of pity for the earth-bound ones who could never hope to understand the joy and awe of wings.
We landed on the highest parapet, less by choice and more by concession to my inexperience. The female gargoyle might have been able to neatly spiral down into the courtyard as she insisted she could, but I had no such confidence in my own skill. Thus we walked prosaically down the steps and to the decrepit display case.
“The Grimorum Arcanorum,” the creature whispered, splaying claws over the glass case. “The most powerful book of human spells in the world. In any world. With this book, I could recreate my clan.”
“Your clan?” I repeated.
She gestured above us. “My first clan was all but wiped out by the humans while they slept. What remains of it, will sleep as stone until the castle rises above the clouds. Forever, in other words. And the clan I formed afterwards was destroyed by humans as well.” Her lips drew back from her fangs and she suddenly turned her back on the book. “No. I have changed my mind. I will not have filthy humans in my new clan.” Her eyes suddenly fixed on me. “But it would be good to have a real clan again. I have lived alone for nine hundred years. My mate and leader is among those who will sleep forever thanks to the Magus and our egg - all the eggs in the rookery - were stolen by humans centuries ago.”
I stepped back, not liking the intense look she gave me. “If you do not want to create of clan of humans-turned-gargoyles, I cannot help you. I was a human also before the spell. Why should you want me?”
“Because, through your spell and my bloodline, our children would be wholly gargoyle.”
“Children!”
She advanced towards me as a snake with a mouse. “You are male and I am female. We are the last two gargoyles left in existence - a new Adam and Eve to rebuild a lost world.” She held up her arms, I believe, to embrace me but this time it was I who grabbed her wrists.
“My nature is still that of a human,” I told her firmly. “I only returned to Scotland to find a way to reverse the spell.”
“And if there isn’t a way?” She laughed unpleasantly when I did not answer, and pulled out of my grip. “Think it over. There are worse things to be than a gargoyle.” With that, she effortlessly climbed up the courtyard wall, leaving clawmarks behind her, and launched herself from the low parapet into the night sky.
Slowly I climbed the steps to the parapet where the stone gargoyles crouched. Vines and mosses had grown over them, yet they were still impressive figures. Would it truly be so bad to remain one of them? Or was the power of near-flight in a life of eternal night even worth the sacrifice of walking freely under sunlight or moonlight, in human company?
It was only the graying of the sky that interrupted my musings. Dawn was close and I had told Holmes I would see him the next day - today, if I wanted to be accurate. But to leave now was to risk being seen by the villagers. It was, I finally decided as the first rays of the sun struck me, was too dangerous. Besides, Holmes was the world’s finest detective. He could deduce my whereabouts if anyone could.
Holmes was indeed waiting nearby when I awoke. My gladness fell away, however, when I saw his grim countenance and heard his news: as far as the villagers knew, there was no such person as ‘Owen Burnett,’ nor had Castle Wyvern ever had a curator.
Holmes gave me his assurances that his investigation would continue but I paid him only half my attention. The female gargoyle’s words from the night before were ringing in my memory.