4th of July Banshee
Jul. 4th, 2010 03:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lavandarlizard2Since he is sort of an American critter. ^____^ Enjoy.
BFB – Part 103 – Crazy is as Crazy Does
I got my wish. In spades.
From Michael’s description, I expected a matched set of carvings, but the reality was even better. To my eyes it seemed that no two of the statues were alike. Gargoyles crouched, lounged and stood sentry in as many different poses as there were statues. Beren and I both threw out multiple fairy lights. I stopped counting at 30; there were more. I don’t know how long I stood with my jaw hanging, before Beren nudged me.
“Uh… Duo?”
“Huh? Oh. Right.”
“Pretty cool, yeah?” said Michael proudly. “They’re all different, I think.” He turned his flashlight to illuminate individual faces.
There were stylized faces of cats, dogs, humans, birds and other creatures I couldn’t immediately recognize, but scattered among those were the cultural memories of Heero’s people. At least a third of the visible gargoyles had the fierce and elongated reptilian faces of Wyverns.
It took my breath away. The western guardians; the Dragons tasked with watching over and guiding those early Humans… I could suddenly see the models for these guardians, crouching on rooftops, cliffs and battlements, attempting to guide and teach the unruly Humans that were their assigned charges. Once upon a time, there had been Wyverns all over Europe, the Middle East and African. In some places they merely watched, looking on as primitive Humans made their first attempts at civilization; in others they appeared occasionally to guide and teach and become legends and gods. In a few, they regularly offered knowledge and insight to those who would accept it. And these were stone memories of those guides.
I stepped forward and ran my hand over the stone body of the foremost Wyvern. This one said my inner voice; this one is mine. “Wow…” I breathed aloud. “These are… are… just wow,” I finished in a whisper.
Michael bounced on the balls of his feet. “Aren’t they *great*?!” he laughed. “I was down here yesterday after you called and I used the leaf blower to dust them off. I’ve never been all the way to the back of them, because the light won’t reach that far, but I think there’s even one that looks like a Sphinx!”
Beren nudged me gently and mouthed the words “leaf blower?” That shook me loose from my trance and I laughed.
“Pretty inventive, Michael. Pretty damned inventive.”
Beren produced some equipment from his other space, saying helpfully, “Measuring the space. I might as well consider these things as one huge block for moving purposes. I wonder if the vampire would consider selling one? I wouldn’t mind having that lion-headed guy.”
“Ctik always said it was sad that they were all stored away down here,” offered Michael. “Duo, you should ask him.”
I was still charmed by the statue I was petting. “Yeah, I think I will. The gargoyles at the Castle are nothing compared to these.”
Beren chuckled and suggested we add some more lights and get the things counted. We soon had the cellar lit up like an operating theater.
The other, non-gargoyle stuff in this cellar was much newer than the stuff downstairs. It was still very old, but probably only back to the 19th century. I added this space to my “call an antiques dealer!” note along with some general descriptions of the contents of the various niches.
We were only about ninety minutes in the upper cellar; it wasn’t as filled with detritus as the lower cellar had been, and Beren was blocking the contents by niche. When it came time to move all of this stuff out, Beren explained, the Pumas would bring a double crew and use magic to shift things to the trucks. They don’t have the same kind of other-space magic that the Wizards have, but they are highly skilled in the “nesting” of goods for packaging.
I kind of hated to leave “my” gargoyle behind when we went up to the basement, but I’d made another note to ask Ctik if he would consider selling a few of the statues. Where in the hell I would put the thing was a whole other matter, but it would be fun to see the look on Heero’s face.
The basement proper was what they call “finished”, with seating and separated areas for different purposes. There was a work-out center with various machines and free weights and a hobby corner outfitted with cabinets and bins and an area with several low tables and comfy chairs and containing a huge walk-in refrigerator filled with bottles of wine. There must have been a thousand tucked into their individually slots. Who in the hell could drink that much wine in a lifetime? Other than Dwarves, that is.
“Oh, that’s Dad’s wine collection,” said Michael, when I asked. “He buys wine like Breeze buys shoes. Mom says he’s a wine snob. I’ve tasted it, but I don’t get what the big deal is. Tastes like sweet vinegar to me.”
“Huh. I’ve never been a fan of wine much myself,” I muttered still staring at the multitudes of bottles. “My Clan has vineyards, but more for the grapes than for wine-making.” I looked over at him. “Do you prefer beer?” I asked.
He made a face. “Oh, hell no! That's even nastier! And I don’t drink the other booze – the distilled stuff – either,” he snorted. “I drink Mt Dew; Mom says that’s bad enough, but at least I won’t be a drunk.”
I snickered. This is a pretty unique kid. “I don’t know; I’ve had Mt Dew and it gave me heart palpitations. You must be made of pretty stern stuff.”
“Well,” he said proudly, “I *am* a Vrostek.”
“Not a Grinsted?”
“Not anymore,” he growled, face clouding over. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the cooler.
Wow. I hadn’t anticipated that. I hoped it wasn’t my fault. I’d feel kind of weird to be the reason for someone repudiating his family. Then again… If he had decided on his own, well, can’t say that Miles didn’t deserve it.
Michael was gone when I stepped out of the wine cooler. I cast a look at Beren, who shrugged.
“He’s getting some sodas. And taking a few minutes to remind himself of how grown-up he is.” He tapped a few keys on his handheld and then looked up at me. “That’s an honorable and upright youngster there. He’ll do well in life.”
“I think so. Ctik is clearly fond of the children and Michael especially seems very close to Ctik. I never realized that vampires would have such close ties with their families.”
“I don’t think it’s very common, but I’ve heard that the ones who do are generally no threat to Humans or Magical Creatures. They’re grounded; more attached to the living world than the ones who seclude themselves from it.” He shrugged. “It’s just something I’ve heard, though. Don’t go considering it the truth,” he smirked.
...tbc...
BFB – Part 103 – Crazy is as Crazy Does
I got my wish. In spades.
From Michael’s description, I expected a matched set of carvings, but the reality was even better. To my eyes it seemed that no two of the statues were alike. Gargoyles crouched, lounged and stood sentry in as many different poses as there were statues. Beren and I both threw out multiple fairy lights. I stopped counting at 30; there were more. I don’t know how long I stood with my jaw hanging, before Beren nudged me.
“Uh… Duo?”
“Huh? Oh. Right.”
“Pretty cool, yeah?” said Michael proudly. “They’re all different, I think.” He turned his flashlight to illuminate individual faces.
There were stylized faces of cats, dogs, humans, birds and other creatures I couldn’t immediately recognize, but scattered among those were the cultural memories of Heero’s people. At least a third of the visible gargoyles had the fierce and elongated reptilian faces of Wyverns.
It took my breath away. The western guardians; the Dragons tasked with watching over and guiding those early Humans… I could suddenly see the models for these guardians, crouching on rooftops, cliffs and battlements, attempting to guide and teach the unruly Humans that were their assigned charges. Once upon a time, there had been Wyverns all over Europe, the Middle East and African. In some places they merely watched, looking on as primitive Humans made their first attempts at civilization; in others they appeared occasionally to guide and teach and become legends and gods. In a few, they regularly offered knowledge and insight to those who would accept it. And these were stone memories of those guides.
I stepped forward and ran my hand over the stone body of the foremost Wyvern. This one said my inner voice; this one is mine. “Wow…” I breathed aloud. “These are… are… just wow,” I finished in a whisper.
Michael bounced on the balls of his feet. “Aren’t they *great*?!” he laughed. “I was down here yesterday after you called and I used the leaf blower to dust them off. I’ve never been all the way to the back of them, because the light won’t reach that far, but I think there’s even one that looks like a Sphinx!”
Beren nudged me gently and mouthed the words “leaf blower?” That shook me loose from my trance and I laughed.
“Pretty inventive, Michael. Pretty damned inventive.”
Beren produced some equipment from his other space, saying helpfully, “Measuring the space. I might as well consider these things as one huge block for moving purposes. I wonder if the vampire would consider selling one? I wouldn’t mind having that lion-headed guy.”
“Ctik always said it was sad that they were all stored away down here,” offered Michael. “Duo, you should ask him.”
I was still charmed by the statue I was petting. “Yeah, I think I will. The gargoyles at the Castle are nothing compared to these.”
Beren chuckled and suggested we add some more lights and get the things counted. We soon had the cellar lit up like an operating theater.
The other, non-gargoyle stuff in this cellar was much newer than the stuff downstairs. It was still very old, but probably only back to the 19th century. I added this space to my “call an antiques dealer!” note along with some general descriptions of the contents of the various niches.
We were only about ninety minutes in the upper cellar; it wasn’t as filled with detritus as the lower cellar had been, and Beren was blocking the contents by niche. When it came time to move all of this stuff out, Beren explained, the Pumas would bring a double crew and use magic to shift things to the trucks. They don’t have the same kind of other-space magic that the Wizards have, but they are highly skilled in the “nesting” of goods for packaging.
I kind of hated to leave “my” gargoyle behind when we went up to the basement, but I’d made another note to ask Ctik if he would consider selling a few of the statues. Where in the hell I would put the thing was a whole other matter, but it would be fun to see the look on Heero’s face.
The basement proper was what they call “finished”, with seating and separated areas for different purposes. There was a work-out center with various machines and free weights and a hobby corner outfitted with cabinets and bins and an area with several low tables and comfy chairs and containing a huge walk-in refrigerator filled with bottles of wine. There must have been a thousand tucked into their individually slots. Who in the hell could drink that much wine in a lifetime? Other than Dwarves, that is.
“Oh, that’s Dad’s wine collection,” said Michael, when I asked. “He buys wine like Breeze buys shoes. Mom says he’s a wine snob. I’ve tasted it, but I don’t get what the big deal is. Tastes like sweet vinegar to me.”
“Huh. I’ve never been a fan of wine much myself,” I muttered still staring at the multitudes of bottles. “My Clan has vineyards, but more for the grapes than for wine-making.” I looked over at him. “Do you prefer beer?” I asked.
He made a face. “Oh, hell no! That's even nastier! And I don’t drink the other booze – the distilled stuff – either,” he snorted. “I drink Mt Dew; Mom says that’s bad enough, but at least I won’t be a drunk.”
I snickered. This is a pretty unique kid. “I don’t know; I’ve had Mt Dew and it gave me heart palpitations. You must be made of pretty stern stuff.”
“Well,” he said proudly, “I *am* a Vrostek.”
“Not a Grinsted?”
“Not anymore,” he growled, face clouding over. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the cooler.
Wow. I hadn’t anticipated that. I hoped it wasn’t my fault. I’d feel kind of weird to be the reason for someone repudiating his family. Then again… If he had decided on his own, well, can’t say that Miles didn’t deserve it.
Michael was gone when I stepped out of the wine cooler. I cast a look at Beren, who shrugged.
“He’s getting some sodas. And taking a few minutes to remind himself of how grown-up he is.” He tapped a few keys on his handheld and then looked up at me. “That’s an honorable and upright youngster there. He’ll do well in life.”
“I think so. Ctik is clearly fond of the children and Michael especially seems very close to Ctik. I never realized that vampires would have such close ties with their families.”
“I don’t think it’s very common, but I’ve heard that the ones who do are generally no threat to Humans or Magical Creatures. They’re grounded; more attached to the living world than the ones who seclude themselves from it.” He shrugged. “It’s just something I’ve heard, though. Don’t go considering it the truth,” he smirked.
...tbc...
