Friendly Gargoyle (Seowyn, Open)

[Teller]

Seowyn was caught by her love of the sunrise. She’d come to visit Atma, Verden’s capital, to remind herself of how it looked and to see how it had changed, and that had been at least two years ago. She hadn’t participated much in political or significant events since then, though many had involved the capital and the people who resided within it. But the people here had grown mostly accustomed to her presence, which was in general most of what she wanted out of life. To be at least somewhat human, even if she couldn’t take part in a great deal of sentient life anymore.

And Seowyn had been touring the castle, admiring the paintings in the bare hours of the morning when nearly nobody was up save for the guards and the cooks, and had realized with the prickling in her stony skin that dawn was coming, and had drifted to the tall, open window to see. She’d seen the first hints of light and smiled at the glow on the horizon, the hint of the sunlight she never saw anymore, and the second the sun’s first curve crept over that horizon Seowyn had turned rigid and gray, her skin hardening past even its usual stiffness, her wings trailing in deep, unyielding folds down her back to the floor, her gown pooling in inflexible curls about her feet, her slim hand still raised and resting against the pale stone window frame.

She knew nothing more until the sun set, and her normal, chalky skin color began to return, beginning to show in cracks through the gray, her stiff fingers beginning to flex, until at last the sun was gone and she exhaled to see the last few minutes of the sunlight going too, and she sighed.

”Seowyn, good evening,” greeted an older noblewoman who was seated on a bench nearby, and Seowyn turned as the woman groaned to her feet, tucking her embroidery needle through stretched fabric for later. ”I’m so sorry I was out when you came by last night. I noticed you’d found it after all, and I was so pleased.”

”Ah, yes.” Seowyn extended her hand, inside which she’d carefully held an ornamental dagger the woman’s husband had dropped recently while passing through the forest, and which had turned to stone with her when she changed, as most things did. ”You were exactly right about where it fell; I had no trouble finding it.”

The woman beamed as she took the knife from Seowyn’s palm, the blade lightly scratching against stony skin. ”Isn’t this just like him, too. I can’t believe he wasn’t more bothered by its loss. He saved my life with this once, you know, and the blades on these aren’t even sharpened. I suppose he doesn’t want to remember that event in particular.” She sighed, then smiled again. ”Are you sure there’s nothing I can give you for this? I understand your refusal from some people with less to give, but truly, my husband and I can afford to pay you for your efforts.”

Seowyn smiled and shook her head. ”I’ve my own fortune and my own income, and I neither eat nor drink. There is nothing I can think of that I need, but thank you for your generosity.” She dipped her head.

The older—in face, at least—woman curtseyed. ”And you for yours.”

Seowyn didn’t know it yet, but the woman had noticed Seowyn’s appreciation for jewelry, even if she didn’t wear much of it, and had immediately set off to find her something that would match the dresses and gowns she’d seen the gargoyle wearing, as the two had been friends for years. Or at least friendly associates, since it’s difficult to be friends with someone you can only see at night, when most people are going to sleep. Seowyn only turned back to the window, not yet able to see the stars, and drifted down the hallway to admire more of the paintings.

[Emma]

I threw the door of my room open, glaring into the hall around it. What should have been the seneschal’s name came out as more of a muffled grunt, mainly because I had crammed approximately three pretzels in my mouth. Trying to chew the bready mass in my oral cavity, I swept out into the private chambers. Kingy and Queeny were nowhere to be seen. That meant I could go wherever I wanted and scare whomever I wanted. I began to hunt down the extremely-hot-but-weirdly-creepy head of household. My evening meal was downright horrible, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself by going to the kitchens like some kind of peasant. Anck was a nice middleman for that particular reason. It was about the only purpose she seemed to serve in this household.

“Yeeeeeees, darling?” came the sarcastic response.
Anck had been in one of the noblewomen’s chambers, and was peering around the corner with narrowed eyes. I could only see her face. When I approached, she didn’t curtsy properly but instead pulled a little more behind the door.
“You know, back in my day, we burned women at the stake for having smart mouths?”
“Isn’t that exactly what they do to vampires for… just being vampires?” she retorted.
I glared at her, and then swallowed an uncomfortably large lump of pretzel.
“The food is godawful tonight. Tell what’s-her-face to learn to cook like a human fucking being.”
“The cook is a centaur.”
“Like a horse-butt, then.”
“Have you ever considered that maybe food just won’t taste good to you in principle?”
I pointed aggressively towards the kitchens. “Do it again or I’ll eat the cook next.”

She pulled behind the door for a moment, took a breath, and then headed down the hall. I watched her alluring back before storming off. She was right. Food didn’t actually taste good to me anyway these days. I was just harassing people out of boredom. Nobility was visiting from other countries for an annual deb ball. That meant I was isolated to the royal bedchambers and required to behave myself. I poked my head into one room, and then the other. After walking in circles for a few minutes, I stopped. A woman I’d never seen before was standing near some of the paintings, peering at them like a tourist. We got plenty of those sweeping through. I tended to get in trouble when they did because I always got drunk and yelled at them. This woman was alone, though. I couldn’t quite pick out her exact race. Sweeping up next to her, I squinted up at one of the paintings she was admiring. I stuck out the bag to her.

“Ugh, these pretzels suck. Want one?” Despite harping on them, I bit into yet another one. Something about eating made me feel human again. “Here, have one. Still better than those paintings.”

Words;; 481
Character Used;; Evander Venali
Thoughts;; He is so easy to write with. It's wonderful!

[Teller]

Seowyn didn’t immediately notice the brisk approach of a ponytailed gentleman, or the slight pallor in his face from avoidance of the sun. It was a different pallor than hers, more waxy than chalklike. Vampire, probably, or simply unwell. He didn’t move like he was unwell though. At any rate, she appreciated that he stood within arm’s reach of her. Some people were still too frightened to do so. She guessed it was mostly the horns, though the batlike wings did strike people with the wrong metaphor at times. She rather liked them, these days. Feathered wings would make her look too much like an entirely different metaphor, one she didn’t desire to uphold. A slightly more negative image gave her more freedom.

Seowyn peered up at him in curiosity, and at the soft pretzel he offered. ”I appreciate your generosity, thank you, but no.” She couldn’t ingest food anymore. The closest she ever got was absorbing water through her skin, and whatever the water carried. He offered again, and she chuckled, raising an eyebrow. Didn’t everyone know gargoyles didn’t eat? It was what made some circles consider vampires less unnatural—they still ate, didn’t they? Gargoyles were just animated stone. Not lifelike at all, just a cursed imitation. ”Truly, I must refuse,” she politely declined, lifting one hand as though to stop the pretzels’ advance. She returned her attention to the paintings. ”I rather like them. A quality landscape painting is a way for people to travel even when they haven’t the time. Why should anyone hate them?”

Seowyn's senses weren't any better than they had been when she was human, so she couldn't use any more than what any other human might naturally observe from her sudden companion. There was an odd, irritable fervor to him however. The rising lilt to his walk was confidence, his comfort with so voraciously (and gracelessly) eating marked that as well, in addition to a certain disregard for others' opinions. His clothes were well-made, so that aspect of his attitude didn't quite match with the station she expected he held, but she supposed she'd discover more about him soon enough. A man like this had at least one persona he unguardedly showed.

{Not much this time, sorry.}

[Emma]

I shrugged when she refused my pretzels. More for me. That was how it was meant to be. I continued shoving them in my mouth with no regards for how it probably looked. Then I gagged a little, remembering that the cook was a butt stallion. I didn’t answer her until I managed to get the lump of bread down my throat. I had approached her because she was someone new- not some visiting nobility from wherever it was, but someone I had genuinely never seen before. I had thought she was a demon or maybe a weird kind of dracolisk, but there was nothing hellish or scaly about her. Her skin looked kind of stony, but nothing came to mind at the time. I would have to figure it out myself. Of course, I wouldn’t ask her. That would be cheating. Scaring a new person would be my first bout of fun in weeks.

“Trust me, if you look at the same fucking colours on paper for three hundred years, you’d get sick of them too.” And the whole not being able to travel thing sat uncomfortably with me as well. “I hate these things… so much. I can’t believe people… made them.” I gestured violently with my hands and almost launched the bag of pretzels at her. “But I suppose a little aesthetics never hurt anybody. A sense of culture will take you a long way. Anyway, how ya doin’?”

Words;; 242
Character Used;; Evander Venali
Thoughts;; I didn't know where to go with it, lol.

[Teller]

Seowyn’s eyes slid sidelong to her companion again, eyebrows slightly raised. ”Are you enjoying your pretzels?” she asked gravely, wondering why he continued to devour them so when he’d already proclaimed their lacking quality. He ate with a nearly savage intensity, but she supposed she had no right to judge. Ladies weren’t meant to have horns, and she had two curling sets nested one pair over the other. Self-conscious even though they’d been growing in for centuries, she reached up to touch the blunt point of one, then tucked her folded hands behind her, just under the lower membranes of her wings. At least beneath her gown the tail that had started growing about twenty years ago didn’t show. Thank goodness its growth had been slow.

Well, his age gave at least some indication of who or what he was, she supposed. Could he be the ‘dreaded uncle’ others occasionally mentioned as residing in the capital’s castle? She couldn’t remember the aforementioned uncle’s name or….condition, but the way they spoke of him suggested there was one. This fellow looked rather hale in comparison with most people she knew with a ‘condition’ that was never truly clarified upon.

”I suppose I’ll have to wait another century until I reach your understanding of the colors, then,” she surmised, and moved on to the next painting. Landscapes intrigued her far more than portraits, though some portraits were indeed stunning. Most were of stuffy-looking men, but a quality artist always worked in his or her subject’s personality, and that was what it interested her to find.

”I’m sorry to hear the use of pigment on cloth infuriates you so much,” she peaceably replied to his outburst, lightly dusting salt and bread crumbs off the front of her gown. ”Had I any idea I would have attempted to steer away from the topic minutes ago.” She deeply inhaled, and sighed, resigning herself to never understanding this peculiar fellow. He acted as if he didn’t wish to be understood, either, but rather marveled at and regarded with a constant sense of anticipation, as though something unexpected is always on the verge of bursting forth, and there is nothing the observer can do to prevent it.

”I am quite well, thank you. I take it your evening will vastly improve once you’ve found a meal to your high expectations? Or are you like some, who eat for boredom?” Seowyn no longer ate, at least not consciously. She’d missed it once, when she was younger, but by now barely remembered what most foods or drinks tasted like, and most of those from her childhood had changed over the centuries, anyway. She wondered how this fellow felt about the changes foods and meals had made, but didn’t wish to say too many things at once—with his fractal attitude, he might well combust if faced with too many things to disagree with altogether. She didn’t wish to overburden him.