04 - Greva 01 - Knock at the Door
Greva was having a pretty normal day, for her at least, all things considered up until the visitor. It started out with a morning scale soak, for while she was not a vain creature, dull scales were an ill portent of health among Gargoyles. And Greva planned to live a long time indeed. Ridding herself of the last of the shine solution, she headed upstairs, to the so-called widow’s walk of the house. Greva was, in fact, a widow, but the time when her mind was enthralled by such fantasies as love had long passed. From the glass enclosure perched on top of her house, Greva reached out, one by one. For Gargoyles are not, in fact, made out of stone, or more recently, metal. Those are golems. Gargoyles are as flesh and blood as any mystical creature could really truly be considered flesh and blood. But the golems played an important role to their ruling Gargoyles. For they /see/. And so Greva reached out, and saw through each Gargoyle Golem in the city, one by one, making pithy small talk (for what kind of interesting conversation could be had with a creature of stone, or even metal). Her rounds complete, Greva, took a moment to admire the rising run, then silently headed back down the stairs to the house proper.
The rest of the day was uneventful. Greva read the news, still delivered by way of newspaper (for old creatures are always behind in the latest innovations), and used that information to spend a few hours making sure the web of influence so carefully installed over the centuries was still intact. One article of note regarded the return of an ancient artifact to the local museum. Greva respected that foolish Fae’s efforts, but it was a useless effort. For the fewer artifacts remained, the more powerful the few became. And when the inevitable picking through the ruined worldscape of humanity came one day, it would be easier to track down only a few items. And so, Greva decided that sooner rather than later, the Fae’s efforts must end. It was more effort than it was worth, most likely, after all, it was only somewhat recently that Greva had decided to quietly retire the Fae’s cousin’s existence. She briefly wondered if after 4 decades the Fae still ruminated on that.
The midday rounds passed uneventfully as well, the Gargoyle Golem's continual complaints about the bird shit that built up on them were received, per usual, by deaf ears. It was right before the nightfall’s rounds, in fact, that something happened that Greva did not expect. There was a thud at the front door. Now, Gargoyles have not lasted for as long as they have without some tricks up their sleeve. After all, seeing for the uneducated today what would pass as a small dragon would certainly cause a reaction in today’s humanity. So as Greva passed down the stairs towards the front door, she /pushed/. It was not a proper transformation as such, as nothing was being changed in state. But horns retreated, wings folded tight, and limbs squeezed in to behave to the proportions of a human, rather on the skinny side. Looking for all the world like a warped scaly lizard, the final step of a small innate magick presented to all potential observers the appearance of a human as well. Greva opened the door.
/ “...didn’t know where else to go…” /
Upon reflection, Greva mused, as she sat in her rather comfy chair, observing the somewhat broken and certainly unconscious Fae on her guest bed, the world works in funny ways. Until the Fae had arrived, Greva chuckled in the depths of her thoughts, Greva had actually resolved this same day to cut short the Fae’s stay on this mortal plane. She still might. Greva cast a glance to the armband laying on the side table, rage held in check. For iron does not harm Gargoyles, Greva has spent some time handling the object, and investigating. It was an unusual thing to see in these times. But the craftsmanship, and a small symbol Greva had found hidden, tucked very close to the interface between the leather and iron had confirmed her suspicions. The ring had begun to reform. Previous priorities had to be changed immediately. The Gargoyle Golems had already been informed to revert back to the old ways of active, timely reporting in lieu of the check ins the slow times made more efficient. Greva stretched, working out the last few knots in her muscles from the /push/ earlier. She smiled, and considered the Fae before her once again. She’d make an attempt to convince the Fae to aid her in the months to come. Really though, it made little difference. It had been truly too long since she’d had a good hunt of humans.
The rest of the day was uneventful. Greva read the news, still delivered by way of newspaper (for old creatures are always behind in the latest innovations), and used that information to spend a few hours making sure the web of influence so carefully installed over the centuries was still intact. One article of note regarded the return of an ancient artifact to the local museum. Greva respected that foolish Fae’s efforts, but it was a useless effort. For the fewer artifacts remained, the more powerful the few became. And when the inevitable picking through the ruined worldscape of humanity came one day, it would be easier to track down only a few items. And so, Greva decided that sooner rather than later, the Fae’s efforts must end. It was more effort than it was worth, most likely, after all, it was only somewhat recently that Greva had decided to quietly retire the Fae’s cousin’s existence. She briefly wondered if after 4 decades the Fae still ruminated on that.
The midday rounds passed uneventfully as well, the Gargoyle Golem's continual complaints about the bird shit that built up on them were received, per usual, by deaf ears. It was right before the nightfall’s rounds, in fact, that something happened that Greva did not expect. There was a thud at the front door. Now, Gargoyles have not lasted for as long as they have without some tricks up their sleeve. After all, seeing for the uneducated today what would pass as a small dragon would certainly cause a reaction in today’s humanity. So as Greva passed down the stairs towards the front door, she /pushed/. It was not a proper transformation as such, as nothing was being changed in state. But horns retreated, wings folded tight, and limbs squeezed in to behave to the proportions of a human, rather on the skinny side. Looking for all the world like a warped scaly lizard, the final step of a small innate magick presented to all potential observers the appearance of a human as well. Greva opened the door.
/ “...didn’t know where else to go…” /
Upon reflection, Greva mused, as she sat in her rather comfy chair, observing the somewhat broken and certainly unconscious Fae on her guest bed, the world works in funny ways. Until the Fae had arrived, Greva chuckled in the depths of her thoughts, Greva had actually resolved this same day to cut short the Fae’s stay on this mortal plane. She still might. Greva cast a glance to the armband laying on the side table, rage held in check. For iron does not harm Gargoyles, Greva has spent some time handling the object, and investigating. It was an unusual thing to see in these times. But the craftsmanship, and a small symbol Greva had found hidden, tucked very close to the interface between the leather and iron had confirmed her suspicions. The ring had begun to reform. Previous priorities had to be changed immediately. The Gargoyle Golems had already been informed to revert back to the old ways of active, timely reporting in lieu of the check ins the slow times made more efficient. Greva stretched, working out the last few knots in her muscles from the /push/ earlier. She smiled, and considered the Fae before her once again. She’d make an attempt to convince the Fae to aid her in the months to come. Really though, it made little difference. It had been truly too long since she’d had a good hunt of humans.
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