The Awakening (GreyQueen & Darklaz)

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The Awakening (GreyQueen & Darklaz)

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"One....more...time...!" Sara grunted as she pressed her full weight on the stubborn wooden door. She had been like this for the last ten minutes at least. Maybe she should have caved into her father's request to come with her to Gramp's old house. "Oh, come...on! Open-Ah!"

A faint click within the lock sounded as Sara finally managed to turn the old iron key before she was tumbled violently into the dusty room. She groaned at the throbbing of her shoulder and knees. 'Still as clumsy as ever, Freckles,' Tabby's voice snickered in her head. If the boisterous female were here now, Sara imagined she'd be rolling on the floor laughing at yet another infamous display of grace by the young Grayson.

Heaving herself up and dusting off her clothes, Sara took note of the shadowed surroundings. She strained her green-hazel eyes against the dark in an effort to make sense of the objects within. A few shelves lined the walls, covered with various shapes too blurred to make any sense of shape; papers upon papers of sketching tacked to the walls on the opposite side; and what appeared to be a work desk in the far back if her eyes correctly pin-pointed its faint edges. Typically, run-of-the-mill studio stuff. Still, Sara felt a rush of excitement. A studio. She finally had her own studio! Her hands trembled in excitement as she hurried to seek out the light switch. 'What do I want to make first? It's been so long since I had some decent materials to work with!'

The lights flickered on with a low buzz the way some of those old overhead lights do. Sara turned back to the open floor room, ready to explore when she stopped short in surprise. What had once appeared to be formless shadows in the corner of the room now revealed itself to be a large object covered by a thick, black blanket. Sara's curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself reaching out to pull back the fabric. 'Maybe it's one of Gramp's projects he didn't get to finish?'

A cloud of dust rushed up to meet her, sending Sara stumbling back in a coughing fit. Ugh! She hated dust! She tossed the blanket to the side with a mental note to store it later. Sara once again turned her eyes to what lay in the corner.

Crouched as if moments away from pushing off, was a gray stone sculpture of a winged man. Sara's mouth fell open in sheer wonder at the finely carved figure. The only likeness she could confidently relate it to was the ancient marvels of the Roman statues or even Michelangelo's David. It was strikingly beautiful even with the oddities of the bat-like wings spread as if testing the air before his flight.

"Gramps....did this?" Sara murmured to herself as her heart fluttered, "Clearly he had been holding out on us on those 'Christmas Surprise' figures."

Gregory Grayson, in all her working memory, had been terrible at creating most art (most being if you can call helping the grandchildren paste macaroni on paper art), unlike his father before him. When asked, he would merely shrug and say "It just skipped me." His final years, however, he seemed to have suddenly found a passion in molding clay figures and decided to take up sculpting. Every Christmas since then, he would gift out oddly shaped figurines. Sara swore one time he tried to pass off a blob as being a famous actor. She had politely smiled and nodded as she accepted the gift.

Reaching out her hand, Sara brushed her fingers along the smooth, unyielding jawline of the sculpture. 'He's so handsome... Wow, Gramps, I'm legitimately impressed.' Sara mused to herself as she continued to trace the barest of touches over the different features of the face. "He looks so alive...."
 
A strange sensation vibrated through Acheron, one he had not felt for some years. Somewhere deep within his being, he sensed the strong blood and magic of the one who made him. It was strongly similar, but then again different. Slowly coming to awareness, his hand lifted to grasp the one at his jawline.
"You...are...of his...blood. I sense...you are..family. I protect the family." He stood and looked around. Seeing the female, he knelt. "I am Acheron. You are of Grayson blood. You have the touch of stone in you."

He held out a hand to her. "Master Gregory said the most important thing was family. You are of the blood. I am your protector."
He was unsure after all this time, just what he was needed for. He could sense that the city was dangerous, but felt no immediate threat to the one in front of him.

"How can I aide you, family of the Grayson"
 
The room all at once seemed to spin for Sara as she stumbled back. A cry caught in her throat and left her with only a squeaking noise like a mouse as she landed on the solid, dusty floor. Her body trembled and she sat gapping for what felt like an eternity. "You....you can talk. That's....h-how..." she stammered. The statue made a move, whether it was to help her or what she didn't give it the chance as she scrambled up on her feet. She held her hands up as she backed up towards the door. "That's it! I-I must be dreaming! Yeah! Th-that funcky smelling smoothie Tabby made me drink must be causing me to have a nightmare. I'm so going to kill her when I wake up..." 'Just a bit closer...' Maybe if she made it through the door, she'll wake up.
 
Sensing her alarm, Acheron looked around for what had her running.
"Where is the danger? I do not sense anything. Come, I will protect you. It is what I am made for. You will be safe."
He placed himself by the window, searching for the potential threat.
This female was strongly of the blood, and he was a protector of the blood.
"Is this Tabby someone dangerous? Are they a threat to you? I will not allow that."
he stated in his gravelly voice as he scanned the streets and sidewalks below.
 
Sara forced herself to stop in her tracks. On the...off chance that this somehow wasn't a dream (which even thinking this made Sara honestly believe she had gone mad) she couldn't just run off with this...thing thinking her best friend might be a threat. Stirring up her courage just like she did on her first day, Sara forced her trembling voice out in as pleasant of a voice as possible.

"N-no, Tabby..." she swallowed the squeak that came out like always when she was nervous or scared, "Tabby is not dangerous....Well...m-maybe to my tastebuds sometimes, but nothing....deadly." Her heart hammered in her chest as she fidgeted. "But...you....you know...I um...I forgot my....my um...u-uh....bag! My bag in my car. So...I'm just...I'm just gonna go grab that..." She started to inch back again towards the open door only a couple feet away, already scrambling to figure out what to do if he calls her bluff.
 
"I shall keep watch over you. None shall harm or threaten you."
He perched where he could see both directions for nearly two blocks.
"Return swiftly. The city is not safe once darkness falls."
he said with his back to the room.
 
His words chilled her heart. He would be watching her. There goes trying to use her car to get away. As Sara turned on heel, she couldn't help the briefest of pauses to take in his appearance. The Statue Man sat perched on the window seal with more grace than she knew he should. After all, he had to weigh more than a hundred pounds on the low end of the scale. His stance eerily reminded her of those statuettes on the skyscrapers. 'Gargoyles,' she thought as she hurried down the hallway.

Clearly going to her car wouldn't work now that she knew he would be watching. 'Back alley'. Sara slipped into the downstairs study and immediately went for the window. As she was opening it, the panels squeaked in protest causing Sara to freeze. She held her breath, praying that he didn't hear. Could he hear this far? Who knows any more. After a few moments of stillness, Sara continued to make her escape. Her feet hit the ground seconds before she bolted across the backyard. If she was lucky, the Statue Man wouldn't go looking for her until she was long gone.

Sara just made it to the end of the alleyway when it occurred to her she should call the police or something. She reached into her jeans' pocket in vain. "Stupid!" she hissed to herself. She forgot her damn phone!
 
Acheron sat and watched, but she did not appear by any of the cars within sight. Sensing a potential for danger,
he took flight and landed on top of the building. Looking around, he spotted her in an alleyway.
Had she been threatened, was she meeting someone that meant her ill?
Gliding down, he landed not far from her.
"Is everything alright? You did not approach the car. Have you been threatened?" he asked as he searched the alley for any danger or threat.
 
"Crap on a cracker!" She stumbled and pressed her back to the brick wall of the building. He followed her! She knew she should have kept running! "O-oh...w-well...you see..."

Sara had always had a knack with coming up with the right words at the right time. In seventh grade, she had fibbed her way out of a full assignment in math after successfully weaving a story about how she had taken the assignment with her to Gramp's place only for him to accidentally use it for the fireplace (to be fair he had done this more than once and even wrote an apology note so it was much more believable than it sounds). In College, she had managed to swing an extension of a full week on a project she procrastinated on. Hell, even at her job she was able to come up with something on the fly to convince her boss to run with the article she really wanted to publish. Now, however, as the walking and talking statue stood just a bit away, she had nothing. Sara admitted it was rather ironic that when it really did matter to lie was a time when her creative juices just left her.

"What are you?" she finally breathed, "Why are you following me?!"
 
"I am Acheron, created by Gregory Grayson as a protector and guardian for his family. You are of his blood and have the spark within you.
Your touch and presence wakened me. Tell me, does the Grayson still live? I am your protector, your guardian. I am to allow n harm to com to the family of Grayson." he explained to her in gravelly tones. All this while, he searched and scanned without seeing any threat.
 
"Gramps? I...I don't," Sara's head swirled with even more confusion. What the hell was going on?! "What do you mean by 'spark'? I woke you? Oh... everything is swirling..." Sliding down to the ground, Sara held her head in her hands. Her grandfather had made it-er, Acheron or whatever. Now he's somehow alive because of her?

Hearing lively chatter and footsteps, Sara snapped her head up. Already Acheron seemed to hone in on the noise, shifting his stance as if ready to pounce. Had she been anyone else, Sara would have likely screamed or something to catch the attention of the strangers. They would have heard and come running to her aid. The thing might have flown away never to be seen again. Strangely enough, however, Sara felt a panic in herself at the thought of Archeron being discovered.

She scrambled to her feet and tried to tug him farther back into the shadows of the alley. He wouldn't move an inch. It was like time to move...oh wait. "Come on! You can't let them see you!"
 
"You know of the maker's second Rule. I am not to be seen by others unless in emergency." he stated.
He carefully wrapped his arms around Sara and silently lifted them up. He flew them back to the open wino to the studio.
There he let her free gently as he once again perched, alert and ready.
"We are safe now. You are in no danger here. What do I call you?" he asked as he turned, certain of no threat.
He slowly looked around. The space was not big, big was not small either. Gregory Grayson liked his space and knew when it was necessary.
Acheron flexed his wings once again, noting how right it felt to have done that service for Sara, although he did not yet know her name.
 
Sara steadied herself from nearly falling to the floor once again that night. Her stomach settled uneasily and she placed a hand over her heart in an attempt to settle it. "Okay, first. Give me some warning next time you feel like hijacking me. I almost passed out!" She scolded but settled down quickly afterward. He clearly meant no harm as evidenced by her still being alive and not some pancake on the street. "I...I guess you can just call me Sara. Tabby likes to call me Freckles on the count of my...yeah you probably don't care about that. Right! So...clearly this isn't a dream, and I'm talking to a statue. Maybe I finally snapped and this it all in my head."

Her anxious rambling finally quieted as she noticed Archeron watched her without wavering. Her cheeks heated up and she shifted nervously, "You said something about a spark. What were you talking about?"
 
"The term for what I am is Gargoyle. You asked about your spark.
It is that within you that allows your inner vision to come to life under your hands. In most, it is mere artistic talent.
For your...Gramps, and for you, it is something vital and alive that you impart to the clay under your hands.
Gregory fashioned me from raw stone. You are o his blood and carry that same unique spark that allowed him to create me.
Sara, Tabby is a friend? Someone you trust? Is this someone I should meet, or not?"
He watched her, eager to know more about her. He felt... he was not sure what. But he knew that her safety was important to him.
If not from a standpoint of his purpose, then something yet undefined.
 
The question pulled a nervous laugh from her, "Tabby meet you? She'd have a cow...No, I don't think you should meet her." 'or anyone' she added on, though didn't have the heart to say that for some reason. "She's my best friend. We grew up together..." Sara shifted, "This spark...If what you said is true, why haven't I made other things come to life before?"
 
"I do not know. Time was not right? The need was not yet? Have you found the notes?"
Acheron asked without the least expression.
"The maker was working on something. He muttered continually about something.
The last time I remember seeing him, he said something about finishing the words.
I was covered with a cloth... and slept. That was the last I remember before you woke me."
He stood and acknowledged that he knew no more.
 
"Notes?" Sara scrunched her face up in thought. "Maybe Gramps has a journal around her or something."

She glanced back a the gargoyle, taking note (now that she had mostly calmed herself) that every movement he hand appeared smooth as if his body wasn't made of stone. Curiosity got the best of her, and she cautiously moved around him. Her artistic eye caught every detail. He really was magnificent. Sara hesitantly reached out a hand to gently touch one of his wings.
 
Acheron sensed the light touch. His wing almost quivered under her questing fingers.
Why did the nearness of this one individual strike him like the tolling of a cathedral bell?
She was special; to him, for him, for... he did not know. This would take time to learn.
 
Archeron's wing had strange feel to them. Based on appearance alone, she would have thought they would be unyielding like how he felt before he...awoke. His wing, however, felt sturdy, solid, almost muscular. Once again a brief image of a bat's wing popped into her head. Sara moves around to his back to better trouch the firm, bone structures at the top. Moving on she reached his shoulder. Here, his skin yielded slightly. Sara couldn't decide it it felt like flesh or stone, maybe something in between. What really marveled her had to be the fact that there was warmth coming from his skin unlike the cold touch a statue had. He really was alive!

"Whoa..." she blushed before stepping back. 'Way to be creepy, Sara.' "Sorry, I... couldn't help myself."
 
He slowly turned his head and observed her explorations. It felt oddly ... right.
He carefully flexed and spread his wings for her.
There was something about her, he knew that beyond her being of the Grayson family was important.
Why was she different from any other of the blood?
 
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