A Station Eight Fan Web Site

Gargoyles

The Phoenix Gate

Search Ask Greg

Search:
Search type:

Displaying 1 record.


Bookmark Link

Hyppolyta

It's not like I have copious amounts of free time. I really, really don't. But I do seem to have a near endless desire to procrastinate. So I wrote this. It's the START of something... stylized. Might someday use it in the comic or something. I dunno.

Anyway, it's called "Hyppolyta".

This was why she loved him. (She could use that word now, with herself at least, even if she had never said it aloud, had never said it to him -- let alone to friends and family or anyone else.) Not for the world-saving and the other heroics. That was why she admired him to no end. But she didn't love him for being a comic book character. She loved him, ironically, for being human.

It all started yesterday evening. After sundown. She had stopped by to see him before her shift began. He had wanted to go with her, to watch over her from above. But she didn't need protection nearly as much as he did right now. In fact, she didn't need protection period. He had growled at her in frustration, and she had more or less growled back.

She was in a bad mood all night, which didn't escape the notice of her partner. He took her sullen silence in stride, but as their shift ended he said, "Talk this out before your next tour. I don't need to suffer through another guy's silent treatment."

So she drove back to the skyscraper. Used her pass-key for the private elevator. She stomped up the steep stone circular steps and found him there. Staring out into what remained of the night.

She was ready to do battle. But he was quiet and reserved. He simply wanted to tell her a story…

He had been new to command, new to giving orders. The elders understood this and let him learn, let him make his mistakes, offering guidance privately. And his younger charges were impressed enough by his size and strength and office to follow him blindly. Then there was his… his newly named Second-in-Command. She had wanted this for him (and in hindsight probably for herself). So in those early days, she offered unconditional support to his authority.

But his peers… his brothers, his sisters…

He described one of these sisters, one of his many sisters. Tall, strong. Light brown skin, bald head and two sets of brow ridges that ran from just above her eyes to just behind her pointed ears. A warrior. She had never been one to listen much, even before he had been promoted. Now the situation had grown intolerable. If he said glide left, she'd glide right on her burnt-red wings, seemingly just to spite him. They had exchanged few words, just a growl here and there. Most of the actual heat was between this sister and his Second.

He could hear them fighting, almost every night.

"Where does this contempt stem from? You have never fought with him like this before."

"Before, he was simply my brother."

"Now, he is your leader."

"He has no more training than I do. He's never proven himself a more able warrior. Granted he's strong. But I'm not even sure he's that bright."

"He has discipline. Something you lack. And a vision for taking care of us all. Human and Gargoyle alike."

"Do you wish to share that vision with the rest of us?"

As he climbed the stairs, he knew it was time to fight his own battles. "Come with me," he said to his sister. "I will share it."

His voice startled them both. It was the one gift he knew he had at his command. His voice demanded respect, even if the words that came out of his mouth did not.

But she recovered quickly, and he saw the heat flash across her face. That spur-jerk reaction to defy him. But it passed. He had issued a challenge of a sort, and she was no coward.

She crossed before him to the battlements, her wings flaring off from her shoulders and right into his face. "I will come."

He bit down on his frustration and extended his own wings. She extended a wing-arm in mock courtesy, deigning to allow him to lead the way. He launched himself off the castle and heard her do the same. She didn't stay behind him for long, pulling abreast with a skeptical glance, waiting, he supposed, for her leader 'to share'.

He didn't speak. There was nothing he could say. They were the same age, nearly to the minute. She was a fine strong warrior. Fierce in battle. She was not unintelligent. And truth be told, he was no more convinced than she was that he had been the right choice to lead the Clan.

None of that was really the point.

He had been chosen. He trusted his predecessor, if not himself. And he would lead. He would find a way. Even with this sister...

To be continued... maybe... someday....