1.10: For Posterity

Some time later and elsewhere in the mansion, Angela finished wheedling Broadway to do just one more repetition, to stretch that wing to the limit just one more time, just one more… And when he finished, his bare scalp covered with a light sheen of sweat, she kissed his ear and said she was proud of him.

A light cough interrupted them, and they turned to see one of the older members of the New Orleans Clan standing in the doorway; an aged male with yellow-green skin and a spiky fin running across his bare scalp. "Please pardon the intrusion… If you don't recall the introduction earlier, I am Benedict, this clan's chronicler. Word has been spreading through the clan since your arrival, and I wanted to confirm its truth or falsehood from your own lips." He paused for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued, "Is it true that your clan was under a-a magic spell for a full thousand years… and you were actually hatched and raised in medieval Scotland?"

"Well, Broadway and the others were," Angela admitted. "I was from the last clutch of eggs the clan laid before the massacre, so I was hatched and raised on Avalon. But our adoptive parents told us stories about what it was like back then…"

Benedict's eyes went wide, and he gave them both such an eager stare that Angela was momentarily reminded of a young boy looking at a towering mound of sweets. "Fascinating," he breathed. "The stories you could tell… Would you consider telling them to me?"

Angela and Broadway both looked at him, then looked at each other and shrugged, while Benedict explained: he wanted them to spend some time with him, going over every last detail of what life had been like while they'd been growing up, both for themselves and for the humans around them. He would record their stories in a new set of chronicles, to be kept in the clan's library, so that even after they themselves were dust, their stories and the people they once knew would not be forgotten.

"Gosh, I'm honored," Broadway said, his eyes round. "But really, you should be talking to Hudson; he's been alive a lot longer and remembers a lot more about the old times than I do."

"Oh, I intend to talk to each one of you, to collect all the stories you're willing to share before you leave," Benedict assured him. "But since your brothers are preoccupied with courting, and your elder Hudson has decided to monitor them for a time to ensure no one loses control, I had hoped to start with you both; the one couple who has already decided their own hearts and made their choices. And now, when I find out that you, Angela, have tales to tell of an entirely different land…!"

Just then, they were interrupted again, by an older female gargoyle with gray skin, a silvery mane tucked into a bun, a matronly figure and 'two-fingered' wings; one who had been introduced to them as Ursula, one of the rookery keepers. "Hello? Oh, there you are… oh, my apologies; am I interrupting something?"

Benedict explained his proposed project and that the gargoyles had just agreed to tell him what they remembered, and Ursula gave a distressed sort of smile. "That's a wonderful idea, dears… but it puts the rest of us in rather a bind. Broadway, I'm told that you're a very accomplished cook and chef?"

"Well, I like to think so," Broadway said modestly. "Do you need some help in the kitchen?"

"I'm afraid so, dears. With a clan this size, we're cooking and baking and preparing meals nearly around the clock, and our mainstay during the wee hours of the night has been Martha, for at least the last decade. But if she's spending half of every night in the kitchen, she'll have far less opportunity to try courting your brothers! We would like to relieve her of her duties for the duration of your stay here, or until your brothers make their choices. But we need someone to replace her who actually knows how to cook, and isn't apt to either burn everything or serve it half-raw. Now, if you'd prefer to keep your vacation time your own, it's perfectly understandable; we'll just have some of our human clan members change shifts to work 'round the clock, although that tends to be hard on them…"

"Oh, it's not a problem; I'd be glad to help out!" Broadway told her. "I've been meaning to learn more recipes from your local cuisine anyway; this is the perfect opportunity!"

"Oh, bless you, dears! And I do apologize, Benedict, if this upsets your own plans."

"Well, it does a little, but not too terribly," Benedict said while eyeing Angela. "Angela, would you consider telling me your own stories, without your future mate at your side? I realize it's an imposition, but it would only be for a night or two, and since your stories are apt to be unique…"

"Since they are unique, Broadway wouldn't be able to add much to them," Angela agreed. "Well, I don't see why not… so long as my man behaves himself in the kitchen," she said as she gave him a quick hug. She smiled as she said it and gave him the quick friendly squeeze as if she were joking, but she hoped he realized she was quite serious about 'behaving himself' and not overeating. The doctor wasn't the only one who wanted him to lose a lot of weight.

And in short order Ursula was showing Broadway the way to the kitchen, while Benedict led Angela to the library, where he intended to set up a tape recorder. While taking notes, he would record her stories and responses to his questions, so not a single nuance would be missed when he transcribed them to the chronicles later.

Angela found herself becoming both excited and nervous, about having her words recorded for all time. There was so much about her hatching clan that she wanted to share for posterity… but some things that she would really rather leave out…

To Be Continued…