Cool wind curled over the stone of the palace that had been built so long ago that not many even remembered who the original architect had been. Starlight filled the sky for the first time in several months; Coren should know, as he had been a part of that balcony since...forever? Since the castle had first been built at least. He'd watched it come into being, stone by stone, but he hadn't been allowed to interfere with the construction. By the time the starlight hit his skin, everyone had gone home to their families and to their warm fires. It got cold up there with wind nipping at his head and sides, but he always tried his hardest to move his wings back so that they could protect his head during the day. If not, then he'd quite often end up with something that resembled a head cold. It would have been amusing to see a gargoyle with a running nose if he hadn't had to spend days at a time with the inability to rub his nose clean.

Snow was the worst. Really, who thought it was a good idea? The stuff stuck like glue to all of his stony skin, and he would come to life at the night with this chill deep down to his bones. When spring came around, he thawed out too...the worst part was perhaps the loneliness. No one knew that he could move during the nighttime, and though he liked his privacy and not being thrown into a thousand pieces when he least expected it...he didn't feel like dealing with people flocking to see him just because he could move. Instead, his cool eyes, eyes were naturally a warm green in color, watched the world pass by as he was unable to move or join in.

Okay, so he had been wrong to take the witch's broom. Everyone said that it was a very bad, very wrong idea, but Coren had been the type of man to push the limits and see how long he could go before he could fall apart. His brightest thought yet had to be choosing to go ahead and steal the broom. So he'd stole in her cottage when she was out picking her herbs, then took it from the closet that she had sitting next to her big cauldron of evil. And though it looked like he had gotten away from it, that night she came and cursed him. There was something about having to find true love before he could be released, but all that he cared about was that he couldn't move...couldn't move until night was upon him. His heart ached at the life he would never live.

From his position, he watched his mother die, watched his father die, then his siblings and their children. He didn't know what they thought had happened to him, but he figured that they thought he had abandoned them. Coren wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he was growing more and more depressed the longer he sat with his wings furled to protect his head. He had changed into a grey gargoyle with muscular arms and legs and a demon-shaped head; his wings were bat-like appendages that he could use to cover his horned head. His horns, to be specific, were curled ram's horns that went straight back into his thick head. Fangs were visible from his general cold sneer...and he did the best that he could to frown all the time. Weren't gargoyles supposed to be angry? Well, he certainly was.

It was a night like every other night. He was crouched in his normal position, waiting for the lady who's room he had been stationed outside of to go to bed. Sometimes she came out and spoke with him as if he could talk back, and sometimes he longed to move and show her that he was actually listening intently to her words. But he figured that she might be more freaked out than consoled by her gargoyle talking back...so he just remained frozen with his wings curled over his head.

It had been like any other day, a gorgeous one at that. A day filled with horseback riding, frolicking through the gardens, and the best helping the blacksmith with his work. The blacksmith being Zylphia's father, he made the weaponry for the palace and became quite famous. Famous enough to send a dark ominous shroud over her beautiful day and the potential her life held. A thick brush pulled through her mane of thick auburn hair. "How could you let your hair get like this young lady?" Her mother scowled forcing the brush through a nest of snarls while her daughter sat upon a stool scowling from the excruciation pain. "You better behave and don't disgrace our family, you sisters are very jealous of you at the moment. Don't screw it up..." Zylphia drowned out her mothers woes of everything that was wrong with her. Couldn't behave like a lady, unmannered, not soft spoken, didn't know her place, and the list went on.

After hours of unrelenting hell, Zylphia stood there before a mirror looking at someone that couldn't be her. The monstrosity she called hair was tamed into an elaborate up do filled with beads, feathers and other ornaments. Worst was the dress, at least the corset that constricted all her breathing and the wire cage to make her skirt look, 'full.' The dress was over the top like her hair, forcing her assets to be presented in the most vulgar of ways. How she preferred the leather breaches and loose fit of a cotton shirt. That wasn't the end to her nightmare though...

By the time she returned in the carriage, she was filled with a rage of unbelievable amounts. "I can't believe them..." she gasped out to herself being escorted to the ground. Once her feet touched the ground she picked up her skirts and stormed into the house. "You sold me!" she cried looking at her mother in utter horror while her father just left the room in shame. The five sisters she had definitely didn't help when they rushed in asking her how it went. Everyone knew but her. All of this was planned behind her back, she was to be wed to a Duke she didn't even know or remotely like. For what? Her dowery. Like she cared.

In a rage she slammed the door shut to her room and locked the door wanting nothing to do with her family till morning. Without wasting time she practically tore herself out of the dress leaving only the undergarments. Pulling on her only robe she pulled open the french doors to her balcony to breath in deeply the fresh air, letting the cold air nip at her pale skin. Propped up on the balcony she looked up to the sky with her violet eyes. The night was calm till Zylphia, placed the sleeve over her mouth and just screamed.

"I can't believe them!" she bellowed out in the night venting her frustrations. "Selling me to that revolting Duke. Like I care that he is wealthy, has a handsome face and can give me a prosperous future. His personality is detestable... Thinks I'll just bare his children, give him a son. What if I don't? Am I worthless than. Will I become another one of his mistresses," she now ranted out everything on her mind pacing back and forth. "I am a women, I have no worth than the man I'm wed to... Lies! I am capable of doing what any man can. They think this a great thing for me. Yes, getting married and than raped, it is lovely. I am so over joyed and thankful..." Zylphia couldn't believe she still felt horrible even after venting. Wrapping her arms around her head she stayed there on the balcony propped up on her elbows.

Just because he couldn't move during the day didn't mean that he couldn't see or hear. Or feel, for that matter, as the sun beat down relentlessly on his head and the cold winds would whip across his sides whenever he was in his station up on the balcony just outside of the the lady's room. He found that it was quite the place to stand, his wings curled over him unlike the other gargoyles who stood with their wings proudly unfurled. But really, was he expected to sit back and just let the weather beat down on his head? Okay, truthfully, his body turned into the cool and unyielding rock of the stone that was around him, but he was still bothered by the elements all the same. Over the years, a few servants had pondered the reason that he had been sculpted with his wings folded over his horned head. They shrugged their shoulders, went back to their work, and continued on with daily life. He felt each death though, each life. Some nights, he would extend his wings and beat into the air just to feel the strength of it. He'd often wondered if a good drop from his position would kill him, but only when he was in his rock form perhaps. The rock wouldn't stand up to the cool, hard ground like his softer skin.

So he heard and saw the family leaving for the day, and he noted with a disgruntled sigh that the lady who lived in his guarded room had been corseted within an inch of her life. He'd heard the fuss, had noted that the talk of the servants was that she was going to be sold off to some rich Duke. In his former life, he had been the son of a peasant boy; the only marriage that he could really have was to the daughter of the blacksmith of his town. It had been an amazing prospect anyway. The girl had been kind and sweet and pleasing to the eye. However, almost as soon as he had gotten the okay from her father to marry the girl of his dreams, he'd found himself turned into a stone gargoyle. He had thought to give her a message of some sort so that she wouldn't just think that her beau had run off on her, but he found writing with his taloned hands to be beyond him. More than that, he wouldn't dream of appearing before her either......that would have scarred her for life, and there was nothing that she could have done anything either. Last he heard, she married his rival and went on to have a big family before dying at a ripe old age of a head cold.

So he knew that she was going to be married to one of the men of the lands that wasn't the most highly spoken of. His frown had become increasingly deeper the more he heard of her suitor. A pig, one of the worst kind of men. He longed to fly to his house during the night and teach him a lesson, but that didn't seem like a good idea either. She was just going to have to live with it, he guessed. Of course, it wasn't right that women were given to men who didn't care for them, treated like herds of cattle to be sold to the highest bidder, but what was he supposed to do about it? The lady had her lot in life, and though it sucked...he knew that he was going to have to just sit back and let life take it's course. His eyes were sad though as the day passed before him. It sickened him that she had to be paraded around infront of a guy twice her age...but what he to say? He had to be a good 500 years by now, though he wasn't sure how his human form really looked.

The sun went down, and he glanced around furtively before extending his wings a little and shifting on his perch. It felt so good to move after a day of standing in one position, his wings curled over his head like he was crying perhaps. But really, he was just getting to get more and more into a foul mood as the time went on. He almost stepped off to flare his wings fully but the clipclop of horse hooves caused him to freeze in position again. Somehow, it was harder once the sun had gone down. He always feared that someone would glance up just as he had to take a breath and see him moving. But the lady was far too ticked off for anyone to notice his moving up on his perch. Apparently, no one had informed her that she was going to be sold off to the guy; for a moment, Coren actually felt a little bad about how tricked she had been. However, with her headstrong ways she surely couldn't just be told that he was the husband for her. She would listen to no one.

Yep, she was pissed. He actually laughed a little, trying to stand stoically on his perch, as the woman yelled at all of them about being sold off. Unable to stop himself, he internally told her to give all of them whatfor. They deserved it for all of the skulking behind her back they had done. He could hardly wait for her to go to bed though, as he badly needed a good flight to get him off of the ground. The muscles along his back were taunt from his awkward crouching position, and he longed to let them release and curl away from his back. She entered her room, locked it, and got ready for her bed. Phew, soon he would be free to-

No such luck. She came out on the balcony and began to shriek into the night air. Coren felt his heart falling apart at the sound of her shriek, if only because he knew that she wasn't happy about her situation. Tonight more than ever he felt like she needed a shoulder, and who would believe her if she said that the gargoyle outside of her room talked with her? So he hesitated for a moment, letting her rant, then he couldn't stand it anymore. Carefully, he unfurled his wings to release his back muscles and twisted on his perch until he was now crouched on the rail, his cool eyes looking at her. Oh, he didn't want to startle her...that would be bad. But he also couldn't just let her stew. Stewing was bad; he should know after 500 years of it.

"Come now," he replied, cocking his head. His voice was a little rough after so many centuries of not using it, but he hoped that that wouldn't bother her. You know, less than the gargoyle outside of her room talking to her. "It cannot be as bad as all that. Slavery sounds like one of the most excellent ways to spend the rest of your life." He nodded his head knowingly, as if he was all wonderful and knew everything about these things. Well, he was a pretty good judge after five centuries. But really, he was hoping the joke would calm her down a little.

"Slavery would be grand comp...." The chill that ran down her spine this time was nothing compared to anything she felt. Zylphia was frozen in place her feet firmly stuck to the ground, her jaw shut her face in her hands, a perfect statue of no movement. What had she just heard? At first she didn't believe. Mind playing tricks on her, what else could it be. The stress of the day and lack of oxygen finally got to her brain. Though she answered the ominous voice. Someone heard her ranting, a dark blush stained her paled cheeks. With a glance at the ground, she saw no one. Open windows leading to rooms of her family, no one. Her head turned to look at the gargoyle that had moved... and now stared at her. Just about to speak she placed her hand back over her mouth shaking her head like this couldn't be happening. 'A gargoyle talking to me. I think I've officially lost my marbles. I had been different from the other girls, I didn't think it was this bad.' she laughed an eerie distant laugh.

In a voice that cracked to reveal her disbelief. "Did you just speak to me?" it was probably surprising that she didn't scream, run, or go hysterical at the fact the decoration on her balcony seemingly moved. Out of sheer curiosity, her hand went to touch the gargoyle. Smooth, cold as ice. It had to be stone. "How did you.." she stopped herself mind question. "Why am I taking to a gargoyle again. I'm officially crazy. Maybe it could drive that Duke away," she laughed in a rather creepy manner as her legs gave out from under her and she sat on the cold stone of her balcony. Fear coursed through her veins like her warm blood only she tried to deny it as best she could. Stubborn and headstrong like always.

Ever since the day she had been told a husband would be chosen for her to where she would travel many places only to make him look good, she began rebelling. Hatred grew in her towards the traditions of her land. Like she wanted to be looked at as something that could only bare children. She got herself in big trouble though. Out of all her sisters she was by far the prettiest. Why? She didn't have a sickly pale complexion like them or sat around doing things a lady should. No, Zylphia ran around with the farm boys becoming a strong capable girl destroying so many dresses they gave her breeches to wear. The best day in her younger days, till she turned fifteen and made the stupidest mistake ever. Most likely the cause for this arranged marriage. Innocently minded and rebellious to her circumstances, she had a little love affair with one of the farm boys.

Rumors spread like wildfire. Zylphia was labeled a hussy, easy and other unbearably deeming and degrading names. She had disgraced her family name. Something she regretted every time she saw the scars on her back. Her mother was merciless in whipping some sense into her, her best daughter soiled all their chances at fortune. Thinking it would tame her unruly nature it only made it worse, till now. She could thank the Duke for at least subduing her mothers wrath and ignoring the rumors about how she slept with around five men. Couldn't believe how she was still a virgin. All they shared was a few kisses.

With a disheartening sigh, she let her eyes fall back upon the gargoyle. "Please enlighten me kind sir how it isn't that bad? Assuming you are male for the lack of understanding in thinking it is like slavery," she spoke not caring anymore if this seemed crazy. She just couldn't hold it in. Not like she could talk to her family or anyone else for that matter. Servants were too loud mouthed, and she had reached the marriageable age of sixteen so she was locked away in the palace. Tragic, no? Not to her, she still had spunk. "Honestly, it is more like I'm spending the rest of my life as a whore. Only I don't get paid every night and the guy is always the same. Sounds fantastic. I'm overjoyed at the thought of wasting away like that," her words were think with sarcasm.

"Oh, and did you not know if I don't produce a decent heir he'll probably find a way to get rid of me. Would rather marry a peasant that would cherish my company not some old bag of dust that simply stares at anything but my face cherish only what is under my dress," Usually not able to speak what was on her mind so freely. Zylphia let it all out to this gargoyle, watching him with keen eyes ready for when he responded. Had to give herself credit for such a lovely hallucination yet. One of her better ideas yet. No wonder she had a talent in drawing and it seemed the gargoyle would be her new subject. There was such life in those green eyes.

Truthfully, being the gargoyle on the perch of stone had been his first brush with the life of luxury that the noble people were used to; when he was a much younger man, he would catch himself thinking of what it would be like to have servants waiting on him. His father had had a small farm on the edge of the lord's lands, and all of the family had chipped in to make sure that the plants were tended for and cared for. He still remembered the summers of his youth, when he would spend the day bent over the fields until every inch of him was caked in dirt and he had to dive into the river behind the farm just to clean off the first layer of muck from a good day's worth of hard work. He wanted to be like that still when he had a family, to raise a son to feel the dirt beneath his nails and along his forearms.

In comparison, he knew all about the lady's past. How she always seemed to be more of a tomboy than the lady that her family wanted her to be; he also heard about the past that she had with the peasant boy. Seeing as he had been a little worried that there was truth to the rumors of the servants, he bypassed his rule of not interfering with the mortals just because he didn't want the guy to get away with what was supposed. He never knew if the lady knew about how, though he couldn't stop the former rumors, there had been no others because of the demon that had visited the rumor-starter in the middle of the night. His non-interfering rule had been compromised again, it seemed. Truthfully, he could have gotten involved with a lot of stuff if he really cared to. Could lead armies by the nighttime with his skin of hard almost-rock. It was movable rock when he was sitting in the nighttime, cool, rough, and not malleable to the touch. He could be a force to be reckoned with.

However, the whole interfering thing left a bad taste in his mouth. He didn't honestly care for getting involved with human activities; the first few years of his imprisonment he had considered talking with his family and trying to help by night, but he didn't want them to have nightmares about what had happened to the man that he had once been. So instead, he staid up on his perch until all of his family had died, and then he watched the descendents of his family tend the family farm until they too passed on. Since he had been a caring man in life, it was tough to watch the deaths of all of his family members, one by one. During the night, he would sometimes fly to leave flowers on their graves...but he had to be careful. If someone spotted him, he would most certainly be hunted down and traced back to the palace. Then it was only a matter of picking out which gargoyle doesn't belong...seriously, it wasn't rocket science. Even he knew that he looked suspicious, but could he be expected to stay inside when what he really wanted to do was curl up inside infront of a warm fire?

As he watched for her reaction, he realized that swooping in out of nowhere probably wasn't the best idea he had ever had. Taking the witch's broom was still number one, but this ranked pretty far up there because of how easily she could scream and wake up the household. He would never get his flight then, especially if she got anyone to believe that the gargoyle on her balcony had spoken with her. Hoping that she wouldn't scream, he cocked his head a little and waited for her to finish taking in that he was talking to her. Yeah, gargoyles don't move - most of them don't move. A smirk started to twitch across his stoney features, but he kept it off because she was freaked out already without him showing off his fangs. The devil was a heavy influence in his youth; a part of him died inside each time he thought of the demonic face he now sported. However, she wasn't scared enough to run back inside and hide in a corner. Coren was impressed by that.

He held still as she held out a hand and brushed his arm. How long had it been since he was touched by a human? She smelled good, of soap and perhaps flowers...and he wondered how she wasn't scared witless with a gargoyle talking to her. She had always been strong and fearless though; it wasn't too unreasonable that she wouldn't be scared of him. However, he guessed that he felt weird to her, like a beast. His personality was so far from it, save for a depression deep within his heart. She sunk to the balcony, then began to rant about how awful it was that she was going to be sold off to a guy who wouldn't care for her. As much as he agreed, he was wise too, wise beyond a normal lifespan. You learned stuff by sitting up on a perch for five hundred years.

Sighing a little, he flared his wings and hopped carefully onto the ground. He straightened up to how he preferred to stand, though he didn't get much of a chance when he had to spend the day crouched over his perch. His skin was slate grey in color, dark in the moonlight, and his legs bowed out and away from him. Both legs, longish and sharply defined, ended in taloned feet that were designed more like feet and less like his hands. Around his waist was a strip of cloth that acted as a sort of decency protection; it was worn as a skirt of sorts, belted with a strip of thin rope. Though he wore something to cover his middle, he didn't wear a shirt. Thus, his bare and thickly muscled chest was open for inspection and he let his bat-like wings flare away from his body and stretch out.

"My apologies, my lady," he began as he refolded his wings halfway. "Crouching on that platform all day leaves me sore all over." He flared his wings again, then settled with looking down at her in what he hoped was a non-threatening way. "As for your problems, I wonder, seeing as I have seen both sides of the issue, why no one is ever happy with what they're given. Peasants long for the ease of luxury and the noble long for the freedom of the peasants." He shrugged his shoulders absently and studied a talon.

"Hmm...what were your other questions....oh yes. I am a male, as you nicely pointed out, but I understand your objections to being treated as nothing more than a whore. However, it seems that women of your status rarely if ever get the chance to marry for love. Once you have provided a male heir, you will be free to live in the lap of luxury. But perhaps that's not all that you longed for it to be?" His smile was a small smirk really. The grey-stoned gargoyle had quite a tongue on him when he actually got to talk; it was the same when he was alive as well.

In an odd turn of events she enjoyed the gargoyles company, when she got passed his rather menacing looks. Demons, devils, imps and other entities of lore did not send her into a frightened fit of hysterics and screaming. The world of paranormal occurrences got her in a panic. She relied on logic too much and when something unexplainable happened, she got scared. Unlike right now, she told herself this talking, moving, and impressively endowed stone ornament was a mere figment of her imagination. When she woke the next day, he would be crouched on her balcony once more like this never even happened. How did she know it would be like this? She would be out her checking the next morning to secure that her theory was right.

"The lap of luxury, my kind sir, is meaningless to me. Luxury in my eyes is filling my mind with knowledge, getting my hands dirty by creating things people appreciate..." As the words left her lips, leaving a gentle smile on her scowling features, she lost herself in her fantasies. Fantastic images enter her mind; a little cottage by a riverfront away from any major towns, a massive library filled with all sorts of books, a family. Her desire for a family that didn't matter if the child was male or female came through the strongest. No matter how hard she tried to tame her desire for equality it could never be suppressed. The rebellious nature she possessed did nothing of the sort to help. Especially the first night her mother locked her in her room. Zylphia never planned for the wind to grab ahold of her skirts and wrap them around her neck. Like she could control weather.

That very special night though opened the door to so many things and she learned of the pleasure in sneaking out at late hours of the night. In those few hours Zylphia had wandered into her fathers study, a room forbidden to everyone but her eldest brother. There she had seen the map of the world, got ahold of the books and devoured their content. She filled her mind with philosophies, tales of other countries, business, and more. Everything a girl was never supposed to see or learn about, only the males got the privilege in filling their minds with such things. So the risk she was taking made it all the more grand.

Using her lessons on how to be a proper lady she filled her diary with everything she learned turning it more into a journal like that of her fathers. This also kept her mother tame and oblivious to what her daughter did behind her back. On top of that she weaseled her way into her fathers presence to the point her requested to see her. There she got him to speak of everything he knew showing an insatiable appetite for what he said. Now that she had gotten older she used her fathers friends to her advantage entertaining them with her presence which she learned pleased her mother.

However with such potential, Zylphia was still only a child and nothing more. She couldn't keep herself from falling to her siblings level. Not yet learned it was better to ignore what they did. Like the situation with the Duke, if she held her tongue and didn't react at all she might of gotten her way. With her short temper, and tortured air it would take a lot of work. She just needed a guide, someone needed to point out the true flaws that she had, not the things she couldn't amount too. Already knew she wouldn't make a perfect lady, she knew too much of things she shouldn't. It was right of a lady to be able to speak of business or indulge herself in such conversations.

"I could live without love, that is a sacrifice I don't see any reason to cry over. I cry over the fact this man is an imbecile for lack of better terms. Rather have someone knowledgeable, I can talk to freely without worry, and learn all that he has to offer. Much prefer that than listen to someone complain about the very servants that give us this luxury peasants desire. I don't see why they aren't honored for what they do. Without them the royals of this world would be nothing," she couldn't stop the words from leaving. Never had she been able to speak with someone like this before. With her father all she could do was listen, her mother she could only be complacent and her siblings just didn't understand her. So her words were filled with a strong passion, she usually kept hidden in fear of getting whipped again or caught.

Pulling her hair out of its confines she watched the gargoyle with lucid eyes a pink dusting to her cheeks. The sight of a mans bare chest, an incredibly enticing chest, silenced her. Fiddling with her hair to act like she was occupied by something other than his physic she started to free her curls from their confines. They quickly cascaded around her easily falling to touch the ground as she calmed her unsteady breathing. "Is it so wrong for me to long for knowledge to learn the things my brother does or when it is the right time to plant a crop. Not that off etiquette and such mundane tasks where all I can do is sit. Can a woman that is pregnant not move? I could not survive laying in a bed for nine months in a panic over if the child in me is male or not." Quickly she turned to look up at him.

"Is it so wrong of me to desire to live?" she asked starting at his menacing face not frightened by it for the warmth of his words made it seem none existent. Appearances meant nothing to her. What was on the inside made Zylphia attracted to the man or not. The Duke had a personality she despised, his charming looks did nothing to romance her. The farm boy she got involved with had been a looker at all, he was kind though and taught her many things about farming. Without even trying he had seduced her with all the possibilities he brought to the surface.

When Coren had been born, there weren't nearly as many dramas as there seemed to abound now a days. There was life and love well enough; if a man desired to marry a certain woman, he had only to make the means of it. His offer had to be decent of course, and he had to be able to take care of her....however, once it became apparent that the means for a wife were meant, the man could take her into his home and make her a good wife to his household. His mother had always been a sweet and warm woman who bustled this way and that with her head always full of pleasant good cheer. Always had he known the women of his time to work as they were told to, to offer respect and love to the man that had taken her into his home. He couldn't begin to understand why the women of the current generation thought it proper for them to take their minds and run away with it; he had grown up in a world where equality wasn't even hinted at, least of all on the tongues of the women.

So the lady infront of him complaining about the lack of equality made a an eyebrow raise on his stony face. They were there, though not obviously noticeable due to the fact that they had been carved into his face, and he missed the bushy ones that he had once a long time ago. So many years ago he had been a looker, but he hadn't been handsome since he had gone the stone route. Every now and then, he caught his appearance in the well-washed window or in a rain puddle..and he got very sad indeed. Okay, he wasn't a narcissistic man who didn't like that he had been turned into a menacing creature, but it was hard to think that girls would look at him now and run in the other direction. He had always been attracted to a sweet woman who had a caring nature for her family and her children. That was part of the world that he had been raised in, where women were respectful and docile...and yet, the lady infront of him refused the world that had been sketched out infront of her.

What he wanted was the farm still nestled next to the river, the one with the soft grass and the now overgrown structures. His family farm had fallen into disrepair because the last wave of children had only had one daughter inbetween them, and she hadn't cared enough to get someone to take over the farm. He watched with sadness as men floated in and out, stayed the night there on their way elsewhere...his home had been turned into a place that was falling apart with countless issues all over the place. The roof was falling in, the stones crumbling into the earth...he wanted to go back and clean it all out, but people would wonder what had happened when it suddenly looked better than before.

He listened to her with interest, but perhaps it might be more amusement. She was so vibrant and sharp, all fire and her own independent nature. Women were supposed to be dependent on the men in their lives; but she seemed to rebel against that all the way. When he had been alive, he probably would have steered clear of her...but after several years on his platform, he was amused by the woman who would much rather have a man who respected her and cared for her than took care of her. The Duke would have been enough to take care of her, but she just seemed more ready for a peasant boy instead. He pondered how he could take her to her farmboy and leave her with him, let her live out her life as she wished.

But her family wanted her there, and he had taken up an internal vow of non-interference. When he interfered, he might wake up splintered into fifty different pieces or with chains locked onto his wrists, and he didn't feel like falling into a trap of his own making. However, as he watched her pull her hair out if its confines, he wondered briefly if she was even aware of how pretty she really was. In the next second he had blocked his own thoughts for thinking about the debate that they were having. It was bad that women were sold off as slaves to men that wouldn't care about him, but he felt that fault lay more with the men than anything else. They had turned into chauvinistic pigs who had forgotten that women were to be honored and respected and loved. Above all, one's wife was supposed to be treated as one's joined partner in life...and he didn't appreciate how men nowadays just treated their wives as servants. Perhaps he had a very romantic view on life, but he didn't know how else to be after all of his years of being a gargoyle and watching everyone else live.

As she blushed, perhaps at his bare chest, he realized that the witch had made talking to women very difficult. Besides being a horrendously scary figure, he also made them feel uncomfortable with his lack of decency. It was hardly his fault; however, as a lad, he had spent a lot of his time running around shirtless while working in the fields. The village girls had stared at him and his brother, had studied their strong muscles and how athletic the two of them were. The blacksmith's daughter had been the lucky chosen one...and he had liked her well enough. Might have even come to love her if given the chance. Aware of the lady infront of him, Coren turned his head to study the stars and the angle of the moon. No matter how many times he looked at the moon, it never stopped feeling like the first time...it was wonderful, intoxicating. He supposed it was because that was the time when he was free.

He flared his wings once more, really arching them out and away from his body in a slow motion so that he could feel his back muscles stretching out with a ton of pain. How did he end up in that position to begin with? Oh, right. She thought it would be a good idea to have him in the most pain possible for stealing her stupid broom. With a shake of his demon head, he turned it back to look at her when she mentioned something about just wanting to live. Did she then? A small smirk crawled over his face at that. She wanted to live? Then the gargoyle could do just that to let her see what she's missing. He folded his wings mostly back into his body, then held out a taloned hand to the woman curled up infront of him on the stone.

"So you wish to live, do you lady? You wish to see how the peasants live, wish to have the freedom to do as you please and choose your own suitor? I will show you the world for one night, if that's what you long to see. If you like it well enough, perhaps I will even leave you where you can make your own way." He chuckled a little, warmly. "But know this, that once you decide to leave your family probably won't allow you to come back. Out there, my lady, men that are intelligent are hard to find and few and far between."

No matter how much she ran, screamed or protested, Zylphia knew one thing she couldn't get away from the Duke. As enticing as gargoyle's words were, she knew she would have to come back. For one night though could she not pleasure herself with an adventure? Battling her better judgement and her hearts to desire to leap into the arms of her stone savior, she sat there a hand woven through her hair. A rare and gentle smile spread across her lips, while her eyes went back to that of the man before her. "So I am just supposed to be taken away by someone whose name I do not know or anything about?" her voice actually had an inviting sound. She wanted to know more about this gargoyle than her own inner turmoils. Isn't everyday that someone comes out onto a balcony and their gargoyle is a live. Most people would probably scream and run though. For her though she didn't see the point, no one would believe her, and this could all be just a dream still asleep in the carriage on her way home.

She laughed staring up at her sky thinking her mind played some nasty tricks on her. "It is rare walking onto a balcony and having a gargoyle talk to you. I would love to hear why that is before I place my life in your hands. I may be a passionate fool for a life worth living, I don't need it ending anytime soon." Oh, she had a good idea that the muscles on him weren't fake and he could easily carry her. She didn't know if it all this was too good to be true. He could not want to carry her and drop her, or he could set her down in a place she's not meant to be and leave. Also she hated heights and felt clinging to him like a weak frightened child would do nothing for her. Other than get more laughs and someone knowing one of her fears.

That fear wouldn't be there if she hadn't been fooling around in the rafters of a barn. Not a place a few kids should be even if they were trying to rescue a chicken. Being on the less agile and sure of herself like the farm kids she struggled to get across the rafters. They all voted for her to do it for she was the smallest, lightest, and the bird didn't know her. Thought her presence could scare it off. Oh, it scared the chicken alright. Scared it into flying at her, with a panicked scream she easily lost her footing. Luckily the kids father caught her, leaving her to realize all the kids went after the chicken. She went home that night devastated and angry. She never thought they were any different from each other, they were all kids. It mattered to them though and she just couldn't comprehend that.

So hidden deep under that fear she didn't want to be left with people who would have two faces around her. Hiding that they didn't want her around. There were many things she didn't know when it came to people. She was incredibly book smart and that was all. Being stuck in a house all the time with just your siblings left her ignorant to the world around her, oblivious to the order of things. Now that she had become older it was getting harder to deny. The fact she was marrying a Duke and the farm boy she had some fun left her the second trouble started to ensue. With a deep breath expanding her chest she placed her hand into the gargoyle's.

"I have no idea what you can show me so late at night, though what could it hurt? Someone sees us I'm accused of being a witch and you'll probably be smashed. A lovely way to depart no?" She laughed trying to take her dampened mood and turn it around. Being sad just left her feeling tired and miserable so she avoided it. Always found something to entertain herself and make her happy again. Which she now left in this taloned hand. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

She couldn't not in the tiniest bit, it didn't feel like a trap though. If the gargoyle had anything against her he wouldn't of tried comforting her or put up with her. Who wants to listen to a girl rant about equality? When she is supposed to be complacent and silent. Her opinions didn't matter only her health and ladylike skills were of significance. Though she couldn't help but notice something was different about the man before her, the way he thought left her practically captivated. Mostly for the wised his voice held, she wanted to pry his mind apart and learn all she could.

Though she wasn't a hopeless romantic like most girls that want to true love. No, she wanted to be able to live on her own with or without a man. The first male she ever had feelings for was the farm boy. Like she understood love and how much it would probably affect her way of thought when she finally got introduced to it. Instead now she kept her adolescent innocence and probably would the rest of her life staying with the Duke. Only difference she would be come colder as her flame for life dwindled away and her passionate outbursts would be silenced. She would become a caged bird not allowed to fly and be catered to with disdain. Servants didn't like their masters, while masters didn't like their servants. A vicious unrelenting cycle she wanted to break free of. She had a good enough idea that the servants of the palace started the rumors.

Coren knew that his name had been lost along the way, another effect of his wonderful curse from the witch that he blithely stolen from. It had been bad form, and he knew it now after many years of silent contemplation. As far as he knew, the old batty woman was still alive somewhere with her broomstick with her, turning young and lively men into gargoyles for her own satisfaction. An annoyance, really, that he was so abused. Cold rains pelted his stony skin, snow turned all of him into frost, and he was forbidden from going inside lest he scare one of the castle staff or reveal himself by interfering. He found himself in a state of amazement as he had been having some pretty depressed thoughts prior to talking with the lady. Of course he knew her name, and of course she didn't know his...but for the moment, she had freed him from his cold and rough depression by giving him some warm and real companionship.

He had a name, a past. A family once, a future bride. But all of it had fallen away on the eve of that stupid dare that he had actually followed through on. He should have refused; all of the elders had told hushed stories of the woman who lived in the rough shack under the oak tree and had the weirdest smelling stuff coming from her windows. People said that she poisoned the wild life to keep them from her garden. Others said that it was just the nature of the plants themselves that caused illness and death. Deer ate from her place and keeled over the next day as if they had been sick for months beforehand. And he had decided that it was a smart idea to go ahead and sneak in and take her broom from its cupboard. Of course, she used it to fly around, so she treated it as theft of a horse. And thus he had been punished like the thief of one of the most important horses in the land.

He knew that she had no reason to trust him. In truth, he was just her gargoyle come to life. If she hadn't run screaming by now she probably wouldn't, but other than..he didn't expect anything from her. What he really thought she would do was to walk back into her world of the known and simplicity and stay there. That was what most of the women from his time would have done, but she wasn't like them. Rather, she was all toughness and spunk, very much like a young man from his time. He guessed at the same time that she would stick with him...and then he would decide what he was really going to do with her. Coren wanted his flight, whether she went with him or not, and he suspected that she too longed to see the world from a viewpoint that only he had the privilege of seeing at the moment.

However, he was a trustworthy fellow he would never dream of harming her. Part of him expected her to turn him down and ship him back to his perch; he probably was a fool for even trying to talk to her, let alone get her to come with him. Why would she trust him for a moment? But his mind had always been one to take risks, and he'd very much like her if she was of the same mind. Though she would be a fool is she just walked over and hopped into his arms, he couldn't help but think that sometimes all life was was risk. Taking a chance on the stone gargoyle talking to you...it was the only way that he knew to live.

She put her hand in his, and the smirk on his stony faced widened. Her skin was warm against his own colder, rocky body; he found himself wondering whether she had all of her wits about her. Then again, with an impending arraigned marriage that she had verbally railed against with all of her spirit, why not run off with the stony gargoyle from her balcony? He was well ware that he was stealing away a bride away well before her wedding day, but he would return her if that was what she wished. No one would suspect him of bride napping, as he was by day just a gargoyle curled up on a platform. It had been years since he had done anything like play a good old-fashioned prank. Why not interfere for the moment? She mentioned herself being considered a witch, and he snorted quite loudly.

Shrugging, he gripped her hand tighter and lifted her up and against his chest. Well, why not let her see the world? He felt bad that she was being shipped off where she would lose her fiery spirit, and he was giving her the option to leave if she decided. His last thought as he did so was that she was probably not used to shirtless men in her world of luxury and decorum. But too bad, as he wasn't going to rip up a man's shirt just to accommodate her. She was willing to come with him, which told Coren that she had an adventurous spirit. Most certainly, the lady should have been born a peasant...she would have enjoyed the life and times of a peasant. He knew he still missed being able to work under the warm sun instead of coiling...he missed sleeping too.

"Coren," he said finally, smirking still. "In life I was called Coren. And trust me lady, I met a witch before. Anyone that would dare to call you a witch would have go through me first, as you are far too pretty to be considered one of them. Too pretty and too nice. However, you do have the fiery spirit." Chuckling at his private joke, he flared his wings to their full expanse. "As for how a gargoyle has come to talk with you, I might tell you at some other time if I feel like it. But trust me lady, it would do me no good to have harm come to you. Who else would talk with me?"