Dominique Destine's Apartment – near sunset, December 22nd
There were no walls, no floor, and no ceiling, only eternal blackness, it was like being trapped in a room swathed in darkness, and there was not a light to be seen anywhere. There was a strange sound, like a soft faltering of confused footsteps, she didn't know if was her own feet, or if someone else was there with her, she could not see anyone else with her. Only moments ago, she'd been standing in the daylight appearance of her apartment, and now it seemed she was on oblivion.
A soft flutter, like the sound of bats wings, somewhere to her side, caused Dominique Destine to turn around. She could have sworn she'd seen something dash by her, but she could not see anything in this blackness.
She heard the footsteps again, and since she was standing still this time, she knew it was not her own feet making the noise, it sounded like the noise the clawed toes of an animal would make against tiles.
At the end of the blackness, was a door, an ordinary wooden door, with a brass knob, but when Dominique reached for it, it would not open, somehow, her hand could not quite turn the knob, it was if the brass knob were stiff, and needed oiled, and her hand was too weak to turn it.
Then she felt a strong hand grasp her shoulder, and spin her around. She didn't know what she was looking at, because she couldn't see it very well, all she knew was that whatever it was, it had her, and it was holding her back against the door, pressing an arm against her chest, she felt a soft breath against her cheek.
"I'm going to kill you, Demona."
Dominique/Demona, knew this voice, but somehow, she couldn't register it, she was somehow…afraid. She'd battled this person in a fight many a time, but…somehow, she knew that he had the advantage this time. And with her in human form, she was useless.
She used her free arm to pull a switchblade from her pocket, and within seconds, she had her assailant crying out as she slashed the razor sharp metal over his chest. She then tried to open the door, hoping that she'd cut him hard and deep enough to cause a serious affliction, hopefully he'd bleed to death.
But she wasn't lucky, her assailant slammed her against the door, one taloned hand gripping her hair, the other holding her arms back.
"What do you have to say for yourself, Demona?"
Dominique could barely speak with her cheek pressed hard up against the wooden door, but she managed to mumble some choice swear words, and she felt her assailants talons slice into her arm as he gripped her tighter.
"You're going to die, and soon, Demona…" her assailant pulled her from the door and threw her where the floor should have been. Dominique felt as if her shoulder had hit rough concrete, she let out a sharp hiss of pain, and clenched her teeth, forcing back tears, as she turned, her assailants eyes began to light up his face.
Only he wasn't flesh and blood – as she was used to seeing him as. He was stone, living breathing stone, and he was all too familiar.
He was Brooklyn.
Dominique shot up from her bed, her confusion and the illusion of pain had made it seem so real and frightening that she had awoken by her own scream. She held the satin sheets to her chest, her eyes wide, her breathing heavy.
It was just a nightmare.
She did not know why this certain nightmare had frightened her, she only knew that it had, and she was still shaking from the experience.
She pulled her legs up to her chest and she pulled her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees, she felt tears pouring down her cheeks.
Across the room, opposite the bed, she could see her distraught reflection in the large wooden framed mirror of her dresser. Her red hair was tousled in wild disarray and tinged in sweat, and she hadn't removed the makeup she'd worn to a meeting earlier this morning, and now, two black and brown smudges ringed her turquoise eyes. Her cheeks were pale, and her forehead was dotted in perspiration.
She wiped her brow, and leaned back in her bed, sighing deeply. This wasn't the first dream she'd had like this, she'd had many, but only recently had she began to fear them, and each time the pain in her dream, each little detail became so much more distinct, and virtual, she could swear they weren't dreams anymore, it was almost real.
There is only one thing I can do, she thought.
She sighed again and sat up,
stroking at her matted auburn hair. She got out of bed, and she walked over to
the window. Sunset is coming, she thought as she opened the drapes, the
room was filled with amber light, bathing her in the beauty of the setting
sun. It looked like it had been
beautiful day, even for winter. But
now, there were slight signs of an evening shower of rain, maybe snow.
Dominique
drew in a breath.
Now I know what I have to do., she decided, even the voice in her thoughts was deeply frustrated at the thought of what she had to do. It will rid the dreams, if I die in my dreams…I fear I will die for real, She thought drearily.
With another sigh, she headed towards the bathroom to wash her face.
After Sunset, Castle Wyvern.
Brooklyn awoke with a gentle jolt when the sun finally set that crisp winter evening. The weather reports Brooklyn had seen in the morning not long before turning to stone had predicted snow, but there was no sign of snow coming. A depressing rain had begun to fall over the bustling city, soaking its citizens and dampening the pavements. Brooklyn looked up to the sky, feeling a drop on his nose, then another on his shoulder, it was a slow, but definite rain shower, which later, would probably turn into a downpour knowing this unpredictable weather.
I thought there would be snow," said Angela as shielded herself from getting wet by doming her wings over her head and shoulders.
Lexington and Broadway both made faces, they both didn't like the rain, they didn't like the idea of getting cold and wet when they could be inside, nice and warm.
Rain and gloom, gloom and doom, Brooklyn thought, staring down over the city, he moved a lock of damp silvery white hair away from his shoulder and cloaked his wings around his shoulders.
"Brooklyn, aren't you coming inside?" Angela asked.
"Yes…just a moment…" Brooklyn answered, looking over his shoulder at Angela.
When the others finally left him alone, he stood tall and let the rain wash over him, looking over a city that feared his kind, people who'd kill him at a whim. To them he was just a wild animal, to little children, he was the monster in the closet, to the religious he was the devil himself.
But somehow, Brooklyn managed to force those thoughts out of his mind for now. It was like the rain washed the thoughts away.
He was about to go inside when he felt something crumpling under his left foot. He reached down to pick up a piece of paper. Folded neatly and on scented paper, he could detect a trace of lavender from the slightly damp piece of paper.
Brooklyn,
I must speak with you urgently, and in private. Meet me at the lake in Central Park at Midnight tonight, and come alone. I will be waiting. Please be there.
Brooklyn raised an eyebrow. Had Angela dropped this note? It had his name on it, but it didn't seem like Angela's handwriting – not that he'd ever noticed Angela's handwriting.
He folded the note over, then, out of fascination, unfolded the note to read it one more time, and then, once he'd done, he folded it over three times and tucked it under his belt for safe keeping. It was around five hours until midnight, and he felt his curiosity eating away at him.
Who sent me this? Definitely a woman, he decided from the smoothness of the handwriting that it had to have come from a woman – and men don't send each other scented notes – unless they have other intentions. He scratched at the back of his head, trying to imagine who had left this note. There weren't that many women whom were friends of the clan – Fox and Elisa. There was one female in the clan, and that was Angela. But Angela hardly seemed like the type to leave unsigned notes around – and anyway, she had feelings for Broadway.
He sighed, shaking his head, and went inside to do something constructive. Down the draughty old corridors, he stepped slowly, the sharp talons on his toes made an audible click against the stony floor. He skimmed his fingers over the stone brick walls, moving with boredom, his mind trying to unravel the little mystery of who was so anxious to see him tonight.
Its weird, Brooklyn stopped in the middle of the hallway, hearing a soft singing. He knew it was Fox, because her voice resembled Sheryl Crow's when she sang. Since this hallway ended up in the nursery, he decided – out of boredom of course – he'd see what she was up to.
Fox's voice became louder, and the song was definable as a lullaby, it was the one of the only songs that Alexander would fall asleep to.
Brooklyn let Fox's voice draw him nearer the end of the hall, step by step he moved, finally, he ended up at the nursery door. He pushed the door open and peered in. Fox was seated in a rocking chair, singing to baby Alexander, who was sleeping in her arms, wrapped in a crocheted yellow blanket, his coppery hair wispy, his eyes closed lightly. Fox stopped singing, seeing Brooklyn. She was genuinely surprised to see him, it was known the two never talked much, they weren't what anyone would class as friends.
"Brooklyn?" she asked, she got up very slowly, trying not to jolt the baby awake, she stepped over to his crib and lay him there, fixing the blankets, smiling proudly to herself.
"Fox, I just—"
"Ssh!" she warned softly, motioning to Alexander. "It took me a long time to get him to sleep," she added softly.
Brooklyn nodded, and made his way outside and waited, Fox appeared moments later, she looked a little more tired that usual, Brooklyn expected it was because of Alexander – he'd heard babies exhausted parents constantly.
"What did you want to see me about?"
"Did you write this?" Brooklyn asked, he revealed the letter from his belt, unfolded it, and handed it over to Fox.
Fox took the letter smoothed it out, and stared over it. "No…this isn't my handwriting," she said. "She sniffed at it. "Scented too. Where'd you get it?"
"I woke up and it was under my foot," Brooklyn shrugged, taking the letter back. "I just wondered if you'd wrote it, I know it couldn't have been any of the clan since someone must have put it under my foot when I was stone," he explained.
Fox folded her arms. "It looks like a woman's handwriting – and
it's scented, seems like a woman sent it," she admitted. "Course I could be wrong…"
"I thought that too, that's
why I asked you, you're the only female who's here during the daytime, apart
from the day-staff like the maids and stuff, but I doubt they even know about
us." Brooklyn folded the letter.
"Anyway, I guess the only time I'll find out who wrote it is when I go
there tonight…"
"What if it's a trap?" Fox
asked, she reached to the back of her hair, and loosened her ponytail, her
coppery hair fell over her back and around her shoulders, and framed her
heart-shaped face. "There are many
enemies out there who would like to trick you in such a way just to lure you
into a trap to kill you, Brooklyn," Her worry seemed genuine.
"I guess I'll just have to take that chance, but it doesn't seem like the kind of letter leading to a trap, its more the sort of letter someone would send to meet in private, which this is…" Brooklyn turned, hearing louder music echoing down the halls, it was one of those club anthems that Brooklyn wasn't very fond of, he recognised the song as something Lexington had called 'Seven Days and One Week'. Brooklyn was surprised Fox wasn't shooting down the hall telling them to turn that crap down in case they woke the baby.
Fox frowned slightly at the music, and then turned back to Brooklyn.. "Its just that…an unsigned letter is so suspicious," she said.
Brooklyn tucked the letter back under his belt. "Yeah, but also mysterious and interesting," he added.
"Be careful then," Fox warned, she began to make her way down the hall to see to the music.
"Don't worry, I'm a grown Gargoyle, I can take care of myself," he promised, and he walked off.
Central Park, half an hour from Midnight
Demona, out of human form and in her Gargoyle form, stood shaded by a tree in the moonlit park, the lake nearby was sparkling almost magically, reflecting the reflection of the full gothic moon high above, the water looked cool and seductive. Demona had been tempted to swim in the lake, and if this had not been winter she would have, she realised if she jumped into that lake, it would be fifteen seconds before hypothermia set in.
She fumbled with her golden bracelet, her dark eyes glittering. She was absolutely exhausted, her previous nightmares had made all attempts at sleep worthless and frightening, tonight, she planned to rid herself of the demons that were haunting her.
She'd left a note for Brooklyn earlier, of course, she had been clever enough to leave it unsigned, even she knew that Brooklyn hated her so much that if she should leave a note with her name on it, he would probably rip it up and never come. If Brooklyn was curious enough to know who had left the note, then she knew he'd be here tonight, just hoped as much. She needed him to make the nightmares stop, to sleep without fear, to dream of other things.
To be free of this torment, she thought. She kept picturing Brooklyn, just as he had been in the nightmare, his eyes glowing white, lighting up the stony face.
"You're going to die, and soon, Demona…" had been what he'd said.
What if he tried to kill her tonight, and she was so upset she couldn't even attack back? Her emotions made her weak – just what she had feared the most.
Demona sighed and climbed up onto a lower branch of the tree she'd been leaning against, and she pulled her knees to her chest, cradled her head in her arms and sighed unhappily. She felt so vulnerable, so…frightened. So close to tears.
This is what all your meddling and evil has caused you"I'm going to kill you, Demona," Brooklyn's voice echoed into her thoughts.
You're not going to kill me, Demona decided sternly with her nightmare of Brooklyn. You're not going to kill me because I'm going to do something about it.
Central Park, Midnight
Brooklyn glided swiftly through the chilly night air, huddling himself to try and keep warm, although Gargoyles were normally immune to most weather conditions, Brooklyn had never been able to get used to the winter. He rubbed his arms, shivering. "Damn, this had to be on one of the coldest nights of the year," he thought, he looked down over the park, it seemed totally deserted.
I'd like to know what's up here, Brooklyn thought, he made his way near the lake, and made a landing on the pier, looking around, he looked down into the water, his own distorted reflection stared back, as if to ask the same question. Why am I here?
But the answer was obvious, someone wanted to speak with him, privately.
What could be so private that we had to come all the way out here? Brooklyn asked in thought, wrapping his wings around himself to keep himself warm, the December chill was biting at his bare skin.
Brooklyn looked up, the sky, once black, now was beginning to cloud, and the moon was not visible any more as it had been only moments ago, the sky looked as it if were turning white. It's going to snow, he thought.
A soft footstep near his back made him turn quickly, his senses were honed and razor sharp, that slight footstep might have gone undetected by any human, but not by Brooklyn.
But who was there caught him off guard, so much that he actually jumped in shock, and tripped over his own tail.
Demona grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him forward as he nearly went falling into the shadowy water, he would freeze to death if he fell in.
"DEMONA!" Brooklyn shot to the side, pushing her away, she looked at him in surprise, then lowered her head.
Demona, looking so carnal in the darkness, her golden jewellery sparkling, her skin bathed in the lights reflection on the water, her hair damp from the earlier rain. "I may have just saved your life," she said, a bitter hiss to her voice.
Brooklyn seemed surprised by the way she said this, she sounded almost hurt by his rejection. And is it any wonder? She used me! He thought.
Demona looked up, her usually
aquamarine eyes looked dark grey, and dull, the dark rings under her eyes
indicated she'd not slept well for a while now. "I…left you that note…"
Brooklyn growled low in his
throat, his lips curling back to reveal a full set of sharp gleaming white
fangs. "You?!"
Demona reached out, she wasn't
near enough to touch him, so she lowered her arm. "I…did not want you here so I could attack you…"
"Why should I trust you after
all you've done to my clan?" he demanded imprudently, his eyes narrowing to
furious slits, he hated her enough for all she'd done to him, for all she'd
done to Angela, how she'd tried to kill his clan many times.
Demona folded her arms over her bare stomach, shivering slightly. "I don't ask that you trust me," she confessed, her eyes lowering to the damp pier. "Brooklyn, I wanted us to talk calmly and rationally, without trying to slit each others throats, she turned away from him, her wings were rested on her shoulders lightly, and blowing in the gentle winds.
"You? Talk calmly and rationally?" Brooklyn snorted, folding his arms. "Gee, I wonder why I don't believe you."
Demona looked over her
shoulder. "Believe what you want," she
uttered. "I came here tonight to ask
for forgiveness…"
"Forgiveness?" Brooklyn felt
as if he'd been belted in the face with a brick. THAT was certainly the last thing he'd expected. "Why should you need forgiveness?" he asked.
Demona turned to him. "Every night almost, I have a recurring
nightmare…" she stopped suddenly looking at him, he looked definitely better in
flesh than he did as stone. Her
nightmare would only come true if he was stone and alive. That would be impossible she hoped. "You…as stone, chase me through eternal
blackness, and there is a door, when I reach it, I can't open it, and you slam
me up against it…and you threaten to kill me…"
"And believe me, nothing would
make me happier," he raised an eyebrow, an evil smile crossed his lips.
"I've been plagued with this for four weeks now…and I can't sleep…I know the only way to rid myself of it is to…atone for what I did…" she explained.
"Atone?" he asked, he found himself asking questions that he already knew the answers to.
"When I used you, I didn't mean
to, I planned to keep you by my side, I had hopes…" she explained. "I'd hoped that you'd joined me, and even
though you rebelled from Goliath at first, I realise now that you're as ever
loyal as a follower to his king."
Brooklyn frowned.
"What are you getting at?" he asked.
Demona turned to him. "What I'm getting at?" she sighed. "I am here to say I am sorry, I don't ask
that you revolt against Goliath, against, I'm not here to kill you, I'm not
here to put a spell on you, or anything else.
I am here, because I want to say I was wrong to ever use you, to ever
try to do what I did…"
"Why should I believe you're
really sorry?" Brooklyn asked. "Demona,
you told your own daughter lies, if you can do that, then you are capable of
anything…"
Demona looked at him. "Think, you idiot. Its humiliating for me to have to say I'm sorry to you, but I
have to swallow my pride, can't you do the same?"
"Demona, I am capable of
swallowing my pride, and I'm capable of forgiveness, but I don't know if you
deserve forgiveness."
"Well…you deserved an
apology," she reminded.
"I wasn't the one in error…"
"I am begging for forgiveness so I can rest easy, Brooklyn," Demona looked up at him, she noticed he'd got reasonably taller since she'd last seen him.
Brooklyn noticed there were tears welling up in her eyes, and he began to realise that like it or not, she was still human, and she had feelings and desires and pain…emotional pain. But he didn't know if it was safe to believe her or not.
"Demona…"
"Brooklyn, you are so lucky
you know, you have friends…you have a clan to go home to, people to talk with,
people to care about, people who care about you…I have nothing, and all I
want…and all I'm asking is this one thing…from you," she admitted.
"If you hadn't begun all this hating humanity
crap then you'd have friends too, Demona.
You could have still been a part of the clan."
"Don't you think I regret
that?!" Demona demanded, her eyes flickered that evil red they always did when
she was angry.
"Do you?"
Demona paused, her eyes darted for a moment, then she turned and stared at him. "Yes," she answered. "Clan was important to me, when I lost you all, I lost my life, all I had was hate, revenge…"
"Its too late to atone for what you did to them…what you did to Angela…"
"But I can atone with you," Demona stepped over, they were so close, their bodies were nearly touching. "Give me your forgiveness and I will never bother your clan, or your human friends ever again…"
"I can't do that, you never keep
your word…"
"I swear to you that I will keep my
word."
"Can I trust you?" he asked.
She nodded. Demona awaited his answer, folding her arms insecurely, looking at him expectantly.
"Alright, Demona, I'll give you
my forgiveness, if you stay away from my clan and never give us anymore grief."
Demona had trouble saying what
she had to. "Thank you," she reached for his hands and clasped them, Brooklyn
seemed rather surprised by the warmth of her hands, the tenderness of her
touch.
"I…better get back," Brooklyn stepped back, pulling his hands away from hers quickly.
"Yes…" Demona sighed. "Go to your clan…"
She is really lonely, Brooklyn thought. She's reluctant to be alone…I've felt the same way…so many times.
Brooklyn regretted what he was about to say. "Demona…why don't we just get this whole thing over with, no more feuding, no more magic spells…" he looked at her.
"Brooklyn…I live among the
humans, but I cannot stand them either, and this is something we have in
differences – you can tolerate them, I cannot."
"Would you rather end up alone,
or would you like to have a shot at being someone's friend…at being a friend to
me, like you once were…"
"I…don't know what to say,"
she blinked. "I've never been offered
something so…generous," she admitted.
"What do you say about it?"
"I…would like to, but you see, we are two different Gargoyles. You are loyal and you care about the humans, while I am bent on their destruction…" she explained. "If we became friends, we would once again become enemies, and that cannot be…" she explained.
"Then what are we now?" he asked.
"Family
separated," she answered. "And that is
about all…"
Brooklyn sighed. "You're right…we should say goodbye for the
last time and hope that our paths don't cross again."
"Yes…"
Brooklyn looked straight at
her. "Goodbye, Demona, may my
forgiveness bring your dreams peace at last…"
She smiled, genuinely. "Thank you."
Brooklyn
scaled the nearest tree and leapt off, spreading his wings, gliding off into
the night, leaving Demona regretful, yet peaceful for the first time in years.