GARGOYLES: Re-Awakening

Encounters: 2

Demona was watching Ailith from across the courtyard of castle Wyvern. The humans were buzzing about dealing with the day's trading. A new party had arrived with much needed supplies, including bows and arrows for the castle's defenses. Ailith was busy washing some of the new textiles, which had been covered in dust during their long journey on horseback to the castle.

Demona's eyes were lingering on the three red, jagged scars across Ailith's forearm. As she looked, she unconsciously felt the three raised scars on her own shoulder, which still burned from time to time. On one level, the surface level, she was angry. What the humans had done to her was cruel. She was just a hatchling, and she hadn't meant to hurt Ailith. Worse though, was what she remembered so vividly when she thought back to that night. When they had burned her she had seen in their eyes that this was not just about punishment. She had seen that they enjoyed it. That they wanted to do it. That look in their eyes was what she could never forget. The look of glee at hurting her.

On another level, a deeper one, Demona felt profoundly guilty for hurting her friend. But that wasn't all. There was a more poisonous guilt. When Demona had lashed out at the crowd of humans and hit flesh, the feeling of warm blood that flowed over her talons had thrilled her. She had enjoyed it, and deep down, she knew that if someone had looked into her eyes they would have seen the very same thing she had seen in the humans. She knew, that in the end, she hated them the same way they hated her.

Demona had never gotten a chance to try and make amends with Ailith, and the reason was another source of guilt. As a gargoyle, Demona had been able to heal from her wounds quickly. Gargoyles regenerate at night when they are sleeping in their stone state—or in their leathery one, as is the case with the hatchlings. By the following day, Demona's wounds had fully healed over, leaving only the scars, and the occasional pain, as a reminder. Ailith had not been so lucky. For her, the wound to her forearm was only the beginning. Within twelve hours, it had become infected. The arm swelled terribly, and the fever left Ailith bed-ridden. It lasted for a month, and when it finally broke, she was a weak, ashen thing.

The physical part was not the worst of it though. Demona's eyes narrowed in pain as the memory crept into her consciousness. What was far worse was what the castle had gone through trying to provide help for her, and what had happened to her mother as a result of bringing this burden onto the men who lived there.

Demona shook her head to clear the memory, then slowly approached Ailith where she was washing. Her shadow fell over the soapy bucket and Ailith stopped what she was doing. She did not, however, look up.

"Ailith," Demona began. "I wish...I would speak with you."

Ailith was a young woman now, just as Demona was a full frown Gargoyle, but a part of Ailith was still the young girl who'd seen her life unravel after her terrible injury. She frowned, and looked down. Demona suddenly realized she didn't know what to say. It had taken her weeks to work up the courage even to approach Ailith, yet she'd spent no time thinking about what she would do once she did.

"I..." she began, but couldn't finish. She couldn't apologize, because what had happened was not her fault. The humans had caused it! They were to blame! She would not apologize for being born, for being a gargoyle, or for trying to defend herself.

Ailith looked up. The hesitation in Demona seemed to energize her. She rose, letting the dripping textiles hang at her side.

"Whatever you wish to say, it is too late. What has passed has passed." Ailith looked into Demona's eyes, and there was a hint of the friendship, but only for a moment. "I will never know what you truly are. All I know is that my mother warned, and she paid the price for my disobedience."