And it seems he's seen some combat. Poor fellow. It's never fun to lose a horn.

Pierre: *gravelly laugh* I owe that to a bad storm. But this... *he lifts his right wrist to show his cracked and chipping limb* was earned. *he leans forward curiously* You come closer than most. You do not fear me?

Should I?

Pierre: If you are a wicked spirit, yes. But you do not seem the type.

I'm not. Playful with my friends, perhaps, but I try to avoid wickedness if I can help it.

Pierre: *nodding* I would not call playfulness a sin. It is just rare for a human to-- *rainwater suddenly gushes out of his mouth for a few moments* Apologies. To behave in such a friendly way. My face tends to put them on edge.

There are those who believe in magic still, and believe there are those who are benign and kind. You seem to be such a one. After all, in our folklore, the gargoyle is meant to be a watchful guardian, a force for good. And you seem to confirm that. So why should I fear you?

Pierre: That is our purpose, certainly. Some of your own have forgotten that, and some of my brothers are broken in ways that scramble their minds, however. These things do not help our relations with your people. It is encouraging to know we may still have pleasant conversations.

I just wish there was something that could be done to help heal those injuries. *I sigh* But I suppose once carved, one cannot alter the form, save by reducing it.

Pierre: *nods, rolling his cracked wrist* That is the way of it until we are worn down to rubble.

But that's so sad.

Pierre: *shrugs* It does not seem so sad to us. You must understand, we are not people. We are things built for a purpose. When we have fulfilled our purpose so well that we break beyond repair, it is a good end. It is a thing worthy of honor.

But what about your souls?

Pierre: We are not souls, only Wild Magic put in a stone form. When our bodies are gone we return to where we came from.

But that doesn't make sense. You show every evidence of having a soul. Or at the very least, a spirit of your own. How can you just be magic and that's all?

Pierre: I am magic and a reflection of my human creator's will. I am not him, I am an echo of part of him. It is an easy mistake to make.

Then where does your sapience come from? There was another being like you once, imbued with life from a creator's hands, but he was able to become real, and live life as a being of flesh and blood. Would that not have required that he have a soul of his own?

Pierre: It would require that he develop one at some point, I suppose, if he became human. However, sapience does not belong only to souls. Wild Magic itself is capable of reason and discernment. This is why places may have a will of their own.

Though not always control of their magic. *I sigh* If they did, some tragedy may have been averted.

Pierre: *genuinely curious* I have not heard of such a thing happening. Where has Magic lost itself?

First I have to ask, what year is it?

Pierre: I do not rightly know... time is not a thing I have much concern about. *he scratches his chin as he contemplates a means of figuring it out* Large, loud metal birds migrate overhead nearly every day, and large metal beetles of many different colors crawl across the roads below. There are few horses on the streets these days, if that helps.

It's close enough. An island was enchanted by the wild magics to discipline those who came to it by turning them into what their behavior most reflected. It would last until they learned their lesson and changed. Someone twisted that magic, and forced it into something far more enduring, nigh-on permanent. ... Many children were doomed to live out their lives in forms that were not their own.

Pierre: *stony face turning even stonier, if possible, and his claws clutching the ledge* Does this 'someone' yet live?

Yes, but I don't know if the hands of fate will allow you to seek this person out. Destiny has its own plans for her.

Pierre: *voice deepening to a growl akin to the rumbling of an earthquake* Then let them stop me. Until then, I will seek the end of this wretch! Where does she reside?

It's more complicated than that, Pierre. And she's since sought to prevent others from reaching the island, so they don't have to suffer the curse. She was testing new magic she'd recently acquired, and unfortunately made a wrong decision. Since she can't undo what she's wrought, she's sought to minimize the damages for the future. The ones who manipulated her to assist in this have also been punished, you can rest assured. One, in a most fitting, albeit dreadful manner that will endure across the years until this Earth dies and is renewed, I should think. I believe most of the others have already died or are performing penance.

Pierre: *settling back, if a little begrudgingly* Then I shall keep my post and await wicked creatures to cross my path, instead. How is it that I did not know of such an injustice? I might have stopped it.

It happened on a remote island. I don't know if your senses allow you to detect things that occur over bodies of water.

Pierre: No... no. I may only sense what threatens the people under the sanctuary of this cathedral. Though, I would have thought at least a rumor would have made it to my ear.

It lies within an old folk tale we humans have kept. In Italian, the place is called Il Paese dei Balocchi. Others call it Pleasure Island. Many do not believe in its existence. Those who do believe have never been. Those who have been are almost never heard from again, save they are of a magical nature and avoid the effects of the curse or are aided by the White One, who watches over them and all humankind.

Pierre: I see, but...*stilling at the mention of the White One* How is it you know of the Hand? They are meant to keep their existence secret.

We've had one or two meetings before, fleeting though they may have been. I occasionally tune into the strings of fate. Or perhaps it is better to say that they tune into me? I'm not certain. But I have been able to utter prophecy from time to time pertaining to certain things in this world. Apparently that is something many would seek to turn to their own advantage, if they can.

Pierre: *seeming to bristle at the thought* Be sure that only the right ones are able to do so.

I try. It helps being so removed from the world. Your kind can't reach me very easily if I don't wish them to. Indeed, I'm not sure if they can really do anything to me under normal circumstances. Now, the part of me I happen to place in this world....

Pierre: Would be enough to draw the attention of potentially dangerous entities. *nods* Particularly the wickedest of all of the Hand. Any paltry fae pales in comparison.

I ... may or may not have met him once already. ^^;

Pierre: *immediately looking you over for signs of corruption* When? Where?

At a time when one of the lost boys who fell prey to that island's curse finally found his way home with help from the Lady of the Glowering Court. I had hoped that the magic of true love between mother and son would be able to usurp the power of the curse. Regrettably, one of the hands objected. I believe this may have been the one to whom you referred.

Pierre: *sniffing at the air around you* You did not offer him anything? Made no pacts?

No. We talked, though, and he said that I had his attention.

Pierre: *solemnly* Then you must stay with me for a time and gather protection. *he puts a clawed hand on your shoulder* You are not safe beyond these walls... not yet.

If he's a hand, how can I be expected to be safe even within these walls? If he wants something, couldn't he just achieve it without difficulty? I"m not questioning your determination or willingness, nor your strength. But more I'm seeking ... understanding, I suppose.

Pierre: He must obey certain rules, even as one of the Hand. There are places he cannot tread.

*I frown.* He seemed ... lonely, cynical. Why is that? What can cause one to feel such terrible things to want to destroy even one's self?

Pierre: Who can say? Perhaps it is his lot to be evil. Perhaps his experience has twisted him. I cannot know.

I suppose only he and his master do. I still can't help but feel sorry for him, though.

Pierre: Then you are a kinder creature that I. *his expression softens slightly* I cannot permit myself to feel pity for the wicked, or I will not properly fulfill my purpose.

Kindness comes in many forms. You just need to figure out the best way to show yours. *I smile weakly.* Indeed, you already have.

Pierre: *lifts a brow ridge* It is a funny thing to call duty kindness, but I will take what I can get.

I find many times, when one is doing a duty, one can also be showing kindness at the same time.

Pierre: *resuming his position at the corner of the ledge* You are a wise thing. I suppose it comes of seeing so much?

That helps, certainly, though I don't know if that's all of it. Though i am curious. If I am to remain here, where should I stay? And ... will the priest mind?

Pierre: *turns to look at you and then at the door that accesses the roof in indecision* Let us ask him. *his gait is stiff as he opens the door*

Are you okay?

Pierre: I believe so... nothing has broken off, has it? *he looks himself over for missing pieces*

No, it's just that I didn't expect you to walk so stiffly. I've never interacted with a Gargoyle before, so I have no idea how they're supposed to move and what's normal.

Pierre: *chuckling* Oh, I see. I will limber up as the night goes on. Staying still for so long during the day makes one’s joints feel like stone... which they are. *he leads the way down a flight of stairs*

I can't help but wonder how that works out for you. How flexible are you? Your body is all stone, after all. Do you even have to breathe? Or is your voice more of a magical projection?

Pierre: I do not breathe, but I must hold a little water within if I wish to speak. The water churns and makes pebbles within me vibrate against each other so I may have a voice. You will never hear one of my kind with a smooth voice. *he continues to lead the way down the stairs and nearly bumps into a rotund man in a priest's collar*

Priest: Heavens! *he clutches his chest* Pierre! I have asked you time and time again to announce yourself if you wish to speak to me. One day you will give me a heart attack... *he blinks and adjusts a pair of glasses that seem too small for his face* Who is this?

Pierre: This is... ah, I never asked your name.

I'm known by many, but most around here call me Omni. Am I correct in guessing this is a Catholic cathedral?

Priest: It is, yes. Though, I find myself leaning to a more Lutheran persuasion in my later years. What brings you here, Omni?

Pierre: He needs protection.

Priest: *brows furrowing in concern* From seen or unseen foes?

According to Pierre, definitely the unseen variety. Though I don't know how I could be in danger currently, given my ... remote nature, I guess I should call it. All the same, Pierre knows more of these things than I do, so I suppose I should trust what he has to say.

Priest: Well, then! We must find you proper lodgings, mm? *he begins to descend back down the stairs and Pierre follows behind you* When you say remote, what does that mean? Will you still need food? A bed?

It's ... difficult for me to explain. I suppose the question should begin with whether you believe in the existence of other worlds or portions of reality. I suppose that given you speak so casually with a gargoyle, you must be more open-minded than some other priests.

Priest: The Bible is full of strange creatures and spirits. To pretend they do not exist is hypocritical, I feel, if we are to take the book at its word. *he smiles over his shoulder* My stony friend certainly opened my eyes to that fact when he started moving and speaking one night. Right, Pierre?

Pierre: *chuckling* I was hardly going to let you fall off the roof, Father.

I would assume an accident? As for your other question, to put it as closely to words as I can, I'm ... sort of existing in multiple places. Part of me is essentially writing what I am saying right now for you to hear, and the me you see is the portion or projection of myself that is sent here. At least, I ... think that's what it's like? Like I said, it's hard to put into proper words.

Priest: *shaking his head with a smile* It is difficult work, tidying the gargoyles on the rooftop.

I see... you are some form of pilgrim, then, wandering from one world to the next? What do you seek in your travels, Omni? *he pushes open a door at the bottom of the stair and holds it open for his companions to pass into the main sanctuary*

Many lives and many worlds. Some are from the vision of other creators. Others are the worlds that have revealed themselves to me. Whether I'm attuned to them or vice versa, I don't know. All I know is that I'm able to catch at least glimpses of them, connect to people, objects, scenes, sometimes whole conversations within the worlds with everything together. As I said, it varies. And depending ont he strength of the connection, I am able to ... I suppose you could say discern certain truths. Sometimes these emerge in the form of prophecy. At other times, merely things that I must write for others to see and gain their own understanding or glimpses into what I have seen, myself. In many ways, one might say that's what makes creators so special. They have the vision to help humanity grow beyond what they have been and to learn lessons they hadn't thought to learn.

Priest: *nodding* In this way the created mirror the Creator. He is the author of all things and, like any developing children, we seek to mimic Him. You have quite the gift, it seems, Omni. Prophesy is quite a rare thing.

Pierre: *pausing to pick up a small chipped piece of his cracked arm off of the immaculate floor* Have you any visions of us? Well, apart from talking to us right now.

I had an inkling of something once, but it's left me. It may take time before I'm able to recover it, if at all. But I can certainly try, if you wish.

Pierre: I would be interested to hear it.

Priest: *waggling a finger* Prophecy is not a parlor trick, Pierre, nor is it to be used as mere fortune telling. It must be met with respect and be allowed to happen as it happens.

Pierre: *nods with a long-suffering expression*

Stone is often a thing to be acted upon, rather than to act. You have a special gift in the fact that you are able to act for yourself, Pierre. While that does bring uncertainty, the gift of choice is, by far, one of the most precious gifts you have ever or will ever have. Take heart, and have faith that you can decide the best course for yourself. There's a reason the creator ordered his disciples to avoid looking to soothsayers for answers.

Pierre: What choices are there for one such as myself? I serve my purpose until I can no longer serve it. Is it not so?

Priest: It is not. Did you not have the option to allow me to fall? It is not your purpose to prevent clumsy priests from falling off of rooftops, is it?

Pierre: *looking very conflicted* No... I suppose not...

As I said, we all decide how we live. And, I suppose, rarely, how we die. But personally, I prefer to focus on the living, myself. I do believe that you will be able to fulfill an important duty to you, though. Whether it be in the course of what you deem your mission or something else, I cannot say. *I shrug* It's difficult to tell what's prophecy and what's merely imagination at times. But I did see a gargoyle just now in my mind's eye. I can't tell whether it was flying, leaping, or just ahd tis mouth open, but there was something inside it. Some sort of ... light, I suppose? I don't know what it means. It could have been a creature of darkness or of light. Depending on which, I would think the outcome of what I saw could be different.

Tell me, Pierre, is it possible to create a dark gargoyle? That is to say, one whose intended purpose isn't to guard a church, but to serve its creator's purpose to another end? Or ... maybe both? *I sigh and shake my head.* I don't know what I'm saying.

Pierre: *suddenly taking a defensive stance and looking about* No... but there are dark things that may mimic our appearance. Things that wish to deceive... *he draws closer with his claws at the ready* Do you see it still?

No. Like I said, it was only a flash, a brief image. Much of what I see comes like that, and they often go just as quickly. Occasionally, I'll have a flash of inspiration in which I can write or speak a prophecy or destiny with great certainty. But this one wasn't like that. I feel there is something for your future, but I don't know what it is. Just that you will have a role to play. Maybe minor, maybe important. But it will certainly be a role.

Pierre: *relaxing only slightly* Then, let us hope I do not crack before that day.

Literally or metaphorically?

Pierre: *snickers* Both.

Oh dear. I just realized. *I turn to face the priest* I hope you'll forgive me, Father. I don't think I ever got to ask you your name.

Gargoyles are neat.

I like 'em, too ^^

I love Gargoyles so it is nice to see one in your style! Welcome, Pierre!

Thanks ^w^ They're awesome beasties.

Pierre: *leans forward curiously* You speak very kindly for a human. Hello.

Absolutely! Shame that I haven't seen much fictional work with them.

Oh, you are too kind, Pierre. I know that Gargoyles have a bad rap at times, but I know you are kind at heart.

Growing up we had a long-running cartoon series about them in the states. I don't know if it made it to Australia, though.

Pierre: *he tilts his head to one side* You do? How?

If it did, it was definitely before my time, or just on a station that had it on when I had school. I do know the cartoon that you are talking about though. It's awesome!

Well, you haven't attacked me, or cursed me, or both of those at the same time, so I do feel like you are very kind to those who have the chance to talk to you.

The storyline was so well done! I'm glad to see that it may have a chance at being revived... let us hope Hollywood doesn't ruin it.

Pierre: Then you are perhaps more forgiving than most of your kind. My face alone has been known to inspire fear. *he eyes you curiously* Wickedness has cursed you many times, has it not?

Yes, let's hope. Depending on who revives it, I'm sure it will be good, or at least make people enjoy the original more.

Those who are scared of your appearance have not seen your personality, Pierre. They should be fearful of their own thoughts. ...Yes, it has.

Hear, hear!

Pierre: Wise words. Come, rest here for as long as you need. Wickedness may not trespass in this place.

^^

Thank you for your kindness. I must ask, how does Wickedness become unable to enter here?

Pierre: *flexing his claws* Simple: I do not allow it.

How do you know that wickedness has followed me?

Pierre: Magic knows magic when it sees it. You are scarred by it.

...am I? *I sit down*

Pierre: *curling up on the ledge of the rooftop* You are. *he extends a claw to touch your chest* Here, and... *he gingerly touches it to your forehead* here. Your body has come back every time, but not either of those places. Those are harder to heal.

*I go silent, looking down*

Pierre: Ah, now, do not mistake my meaning. *he touches a claw to your chin to raise your face* I did not say it was impossible, nor did I say that your wounds still bled. Your scars are marks of your courage and your strength. Is it not so? *he angles his arm to show the chipping crack that runs from his wrist to the crook of his elbow* This will never heal. It will always remind me of the weakness I once had and the mistakes I once made. And yet, I wear it with pride. Why?

...because you learnt from your mistakes? Something that will remind you to continue living?

Pierre: *grinning an uneven and toothy grin* Precisely.

Doesn't it hurt? Doesn't it bring back painful memories?

Pierre: It did, once. It is not so painful now that I have decided to view it as a mark of triumph rather than tragedy. But it did take me a long time to actually believe that it was a mark of triumph. It is hard to convince oneself of anything that we do not naturally think.

I am yet to find any mark, scratch or crack to be a mark of triumph. Some of these memories are buried deep down in my core that it is hard to think of them as anything but painful.

Pierre: With any luck these things will improve. It just takes time. And your kind has the luxury of sealing up their wounds. If you are made of stone, as I am, you cannot stitch yourself up.

Wounds don't heal as easily as you think, Pierre.

Pierre: *genuinely curious* But they must heal eventually? Mustn't they?

Some cut deep. Some stick within and damage what's inside. Some do heal, but there will always be exceptions.

^w^

this is heart war you will see me to come again another day !

>w< I look forward to it!

IF I WIN YOU HAVE TO TF YOUR SELFT INTO A BLACK CAT, IF YOU WIN well you can choose my Punishment it will start the next weekeend , if you dont wanna game well i still will full other draws than you have wiht hearts

I'm going to be away all of next weekend. ^^' Raincheck?

what is Raincheck?

Sorry, it means maybe we can try it again at a different time ^^

next weekend ?