Oblivion (Chapter Two)

Another with the same problem—captured and held captive in his own stone shell.  Something had put him in this otherwise merciful sleep…and kept him there.1

He awoke at last one cool night, heat slowly coming to his stone-covered flesh.  Bronze flesh had fallen pale over the years, but it was finally regaining color.  Warm blood was flowing through his veins again at long last.  Limbs no longer used to carrying the creature’s weight gave way beneath him, causing him to fall to his hands and knees and stay there, shivering on the roof top that he had been set upon.2

Once deaf, he now heard everything with frightening sharpness.  Once blind, he saw everything the same.  His senses peaked as he stretched and shed the stone from his feathered wings.  Behind him, his tail gave a few feeble sways.  He looked down toward the ground nearly twenty stories below and snorted, fine tendrils of smoke rising from his nostrils.  Flame colored wings spread at his back and he ran on all fours to meet the open air.3

There was something familiar out there, something that he had lost years ago in the form of what he saw as a draconic angel.  She had taken that bullet for him long ago.  Grief and a wish had imprisoned him.  He wanted to wake only if she ever did again—that night had come.4

Whipping about in front of his dark eyes was an unruly mane of ebony hair.  He paid it no attention.  He did not need to see where he was going—he could sense it.  He tucked his deadly claws at his sides, hands balling into fists for the time being, drawing the tiniest amounts of blood to the surface.  He ignored the blood, he ignored the pain.  He had to follow his senses and forget all else.  Any who got in his way would suffer the consequences—likely a very quick death.5

He narrowed his eyes before making a not-so-graceful landing atop a new building, freezing when he felt the presence of another.  When they spoke he could have hit the roof—if he weren’t already sprawled out across a small part of it.6

“You have to learn to walk before you can learn to fly.”7

The sarcasm reminded him of someone he knew.  The last time he had heard that voice it was telling him to run, to save himself—and then it grew to a horrid shriek as its owner was struck down by a human’s bullet.8

“Breaker, breaker, we have a gargoyle down,” the voice spoke again in an imitation of any random human over a radio, “repeat, we have a gargoyle down.”9

That drew a small chuckle from him even as he lay there, sore and making only a small effort to push himself up.10

When her arms wrapped around him to help him to his feet, he could have cried.  She was alive, as alive as ever.  She managed to drag him up, though he was much larger than she was—it had been quite a task just getting him to his knees, let alone allowing him to use her for support.  She found herself panting for a moment before she could look up at him.  He was unchanged, still as scruffy looking as ever with his hair all over the place.  The feathers that lined his tail’s top side were unkempt as always, but functional at least.11

She gave a small smile, but the moment that he found his balance, she stepped away from him.  Why she helped him now when he was not even able to attempt to defend her before was beyond the both of them.12

“What are you doing here?” she could not resist questioning.  “Are you following me or something?”13

His voice caught in his throat for a moment before he spoke; “I couldn’t answer that question if I tried.”14

She tilted her head slightly then gave it a small shake.  “Do not follow me.  You remember who I was.  I haven’t changed.  I still hate humans with a passion.  The three that ‘murdered’ me are dead…but there are more.  There were so many more involved.”15

He frowned and pressed his ears against his skull; “They will have what they wanted.”16

“Either kill us or die trying—is that not what they said?” she uttered, giving a grin that was enough to make him stumble backwards.17

He nodded just the same.18

“That was what they said, yes,” he forced out.19

“I make that very same vow now,” she uttered, voice laced with a deadly purr.  “Follow if you will, but I would hardly suggest it.”20

With that she was gone, and he simply peered after her, shaking his head.21