The Awakening (GreyQueen & Darklaz)

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The Awakening (GreyQueen & Darklaz)

Her blush darkened under his gaze and her heart fluttered. Sara nervously ran her hand through her strawberry red locks. "So...do you, uh, need to eat? I-I mean, since you just...woke up and all." A thought caused her to pause, "You...don't eat anything...weird, do you? Like..rats... Because I'm fresh out of rats..." Oh goodness she was so lame. But he made her feel...odd, like that fluttery, excited feeling you get at times.
 
"I do not eat. I am living stone. My physical needs are not as extensive as yours.
Your hair, it is the color of a sunset. Is this a natural occurrence? "
He had so much yet to learn, although what he was most curious about was anything to do with Sara.
Sara was fascinating. Sh emitted a warmth and abundance of life that drew him.
 
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"Oh, uh yeah, it is. Good old Irish blood." Sara shrugged, "So...how about we look for that journal or book or...whatever. I'm still...confused by all of this. Maybe it will have some answers."

Sara glances around the studio with a small hum. "I'll start over on this side. If you want, you can look on the other. If you want to help, that is."
 
Acheron moved to the opposite wall. He was unfamiliar with what he was searching for, but knew it was important to Sara.
He moved folders, portfolios, notebooks, a couple of canvas bags.
"Is this what we need?" he asked, holding up a dusty worn notebook bound in leather and bearing flecks of clay and stone dust.
 
Sara has been shifting through her own pile when his words stopped her. Carefully easing herself down, the redhead jogged over. "Oh, I remember this! Gramps used to carry it around all the time. Said it was a work in progress or something."

She turned the leather book over in hand, humming to herself. "Curiouser and couriouser..." Sara glanced up through her lashes at him, "This won't...open a portal to hell or anything, Will it?"
 
Looking at the book, Acheron tilted his head.
"No portals. Words. Lots of words. He would mumble them to himself. Repeatedly.
Power. Life. Me. " He shook his wings, then looked at Sara.
Reaching up, he gently placed a hand against her cheek.
"You. I feel warmth. Your skin feels like the sunshine. You are alive. I am alive?"
 
Sara shuddered slightly at the sensation of her hand, pressing a bit more against it instinctively. All at once Sara stepped back, "Woah, h-hey now. Let's take a-"

"Star-Face? You here?

Dad! Sara spun on heel towards the door. How had she not heard the door? "J-Just a minute!" The artist shoved the journal in Acheron's hands and bolted to the studio door. She just managed to close it behind her when her father stepped into veiw from the stairs. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

"Just checking in on you, Star-Face," her father frowned at the disheveled appearance of his little girl, "Your mother and I called five times. we were worried."
 
Listening carefully, Acheron imitated the statue he was made to look like.
This was the father of Sara. Was there something he had missed.
Her father called her 'star-face'. Was she marked in some way? Had she scars?
He paid attention as she spoke with her father. Parents were worried.
She had not answered their summons.
 
"I'm so sorry! I must have left my phone in another room." Sara blushed and tried to get her father to follow her, "hey how about some coffee-"

"Ah," her father smiled obliviously, looking towards the studio, "Dad's studio...Lot of memories there. You even roamed around when you were an ankle biter. Dad would carry you around on his shoulders so you could reach his easel to paint. He always had a soft spot for you..."

"I...thought Gramps didn't do art until..." Sara frowned. She didn't remember the studio at all. Sure he would fish over her art like any grandparent would, but...

"Well, he was never any good but he did enjoy watching you paint. Like he always said, 'You have the eyes of a artist and-'"

"'The imagination to make it...alive'..." Sara bit her lip. Had her grandfather know she had this talent? Why didn't he say anything about it?

"You know... it's been a while since I've been in." Her father murmured sadly to himself, "I... think it's time I have a look around. You don't mind do you, Star-face?"

"A-actually-!" Sara's words were cut off as her father opened the door and walked in. "Wait!!"
 
Acheron heard the conversation and froze like the stone he was formed out of. This would be another of the blood and family of his maker.
He surmised her father was someone special to Sara. If need ever arose, he would be extra careful to avoid discovery in case of rescue.
He would do his best to make his Sara happy.
'His'? Where had that come from? He examined his newly forming thoughts.
Yes. She was indeed his. Although he was not certain just what that truly meant yet.
 
Matthew poked his head into the studio against his daughter's protests. How kind of her to want to spare him the initial pain of being in his father's favorite room. "Oh!" Sara braced herself for the worst but blinked in surprise when he looked back at her. "Did you do this?"

Sara glanced passed her father towards the unmoving Acheron. Her heart sped up a bit, but she forced herself to stay calm. "No. Gramps did it. I guess he was holding out on us, Pops."

"Yeah...huh...I just...Wow." Matthew rubbed his forehead, "He never... I mean it looks like something you would make, Star-face."

"Dad," Sara flushed, unsure if the state Acheron was in would allow him to hear her embarrassing nickname, "Do you still have to call me that? I'm not a kid anymore...."

"You're always a kid to me, Star-face," the graying man grinned, "Besides you remember why I call you that?"

"Dad, please."

"You came running up to me one day after school, snot and tears dripping."

"Dad."

"I asked what happened and you said that some kids were making fun of your freckles. You said that you looked like someone splattered mud all over you. Remember what I told you?"

"Dad, please stop."

"I said that it wasn't mud. I splattered stardust over your face as a little baby. You brightened up so much you started to tell everyone you had stars on your face, that your daddy used stardust to make you pretty."

"Daaaaad." Sara groaned, covering her face in embarrassment. Please let Acheron be in some weird stone state where he didn't just hear that.
 
Stardust. It seemed appropriate. He could indeed see the shine of stars in her eyes.
That spark of true creativity and life that allowed her to awaken him.
He must learn of a way to speak of it without upsetting her.
The young lady's feelings were paramount to his own... happiness?
Indeed. So be it! Her happiness was crucial to his own.
 
"Alright, enough, enough." Sara waved her hands, "Alright. You see I'm alright. You and mom can rest easy."

Matthew chuckled and reached into his back pocket, "Calm down now, Star-face. Here. It came in the mail for you. Gave me another excuse to come pester you."

"Great, thanks." the young woman sighed, taking the odd red envelope. "Now, it's getting late pops."

"I get it, I get it." he smiled and started for the door with Sara following to ensure he left, "Too grown up to have your old man here."

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes. After seeing him out the door, Sara tossed the red envelope to the side on her key table for later viewing. She had bigger problems to deal with. Returning up the stairs, Sara took a deep breath and reentered the studio she knew would once again have a moving statue in it. "Coast is clear now, Acheron."
 
"You are very close to and fond of your father. He is important to you.
His safety and well being matter to you, Sara." he stated.
"I shall do my best to ensure his safety as well."
 
"Uh...thanks?" Sara sighed and reached out towards the gargoyle, "How about we take a look in that book. Maybe we can make some sense of what Gramps was talking about."
 
Acheron handed her the journal and sat to watch.
"Sara, your father is correct about the stars. They shine through you, I can see the spark in your eyes.
The spark of life from the heart of the universe resides within you, even more than it did in your grandfather."
 
Sara blushed darker than her hair and she scrunched up her face, " T-Thanks..." She wasn't sure why her heart skipped a bit at his words. He's a statue, for goodness sake. "Anywho...let's see what's inside."

She thumbed through the worn pages, pausing only when she came across anything that seemed out of the journal shame normal. Stuff about day to day things with the family. There was even an entry about her birthday which did have an odd remark about gifts. Was this gift...my ability? She flipped through more until she came across a heart breaking entry that just read "November 23 - Elenor rests in a place now where I cannot go." Elenor had been the name of her grandmother who passed away when Sara was only a few months old.

"So far there's nothing about-wait... what's this," Sara frowned. The page she landed on was chalk full of was at first appeared to be nonsense about guardians. Strange words and sketches riddle the pages. One particular sentence stood out: Stone shall live to protect us. "Stone shall live to protect us? Is that what Gramps kept saying?"
 
"I am living stone, Sara. I am set as protector and guardian of the family.
It is my purpose to safeguard those of the Grayson blood."
he replied as she read through the journal entries.
"First, to protect. Second to not be seen. Third, to serve the one who awaken me to life."
 
"I was just confirming," Sara blushed at her obvious statement, "Well he keeps going on and on about it...but there's more to it I think. I mean he starts calling stone by Acheron, so he's talking about you. But then he says something about completing what he started. Giving Acheron life.... Maybe...maybe it's more than just the state you're in now?"
 
"Now, I am considered animate stone. I have half-life; solid stone most of the time.
In your presence, I am awake longer than I would be otherwise. Life, would be permanent.
I would be fully alive at all times." he stated simply.
"Your grandfather was concerned about safety and security of his family."
He pulls a dusty old photo from the floor, where it fell out of the journal.
It shows Gregory holding what appears to be a wide eyed infant of less than a year old.
 
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