bornofstone (bornofstone) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-01-29 12:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | grayson brutus, ongoing, zander brutus |
It had taken him weeks to find his way to the small island. He had to give whomever brought it into being props, as it was amazingly hidden. Such a convenient location for all the modern necessities of life, yet still removed enough to hide in plain sight. Genius. All the same, it was just hidden enough that the clan upon St. Patrick’s Cathedral had a difficult time explaining just how to find it. It was only when one of their enchanters who protect the steeple from attacks such as the one on Grayson’s own clan said they needed to head to the island itself for a meeting with someone that Gray had his chance. He was permitted a ride thanks to the leader of the clan Finn. It had been one of his first times in a car outside of Aoife’s more suspect driving skills. The world flew by and the towering, gray and mirrored life of the big city he had lived in for two weeks fell behind to a more open setting. Smaller brick and stone buildings and wooden-front houses dotted the road. He could see the ocean at times. It took all of his willpower to not stare out the window like a fool as they drove the almost two hours to Atlantic City.
The world was different at night. He had taken to staying up as he did in Oxford just to observe. Everything moved so fast here compared to the university college. The world spoke with strange accents and in languages he never heard before. It was addicting to stay awake and listen. He wanted to know more. His clan even helped him compile books to read. He was still more of a fan of classic writing, but there were some interesting younger-themed series he found entertaining. It was enough to pass long nights upon the cathedral while waiting on word from his brother. Now, one such novel lay forgotten in his bag as he looked out over the passing water and toward the upcoming bridge. He stared, struck by the entry to the island. How people missed this was beyond him. Then again, he knew what to look for more or less. Perhaps it was just easier for people to not notice than to pay attention. That was what his father always said was why they existed so long. It took surprisingly little to discover where his brother was. Apparently there were not many Gargoyles around these parts. Or, specifically, there was one. Zander himself. And there was a lingering stare at his features that made Gray ponder exactly how much of his past was well known. Knowing his brother, enough to gain him entry and not enough for people to know too much. All the same, his driver seemed to know where the bar in question was and drove him there before heading to meet his friend. And it was as if all the confidence the man had in his body seeped into the ground through his feet. He had thought about this day since he discovered his brother had, indeed, fled and survived. Family was everything to a gargoyle clan. And a part of Gray feared that this world looked like an empty one for his brother. And that, he could not allow. He took a deep breath and walked through the doors. The business on a Monday evening is what struck him first. There were enough people to tell this was a popular place. Or, at least it was one of the few places that served decent alcohol. It figured that his brother, who loved hitting the pub while in England, would come to a world like this. It made a smirk pull at his lips despite the nerves clutching at his chest. And then he saw him. Zander looming as he did. Not the tallest or biggest in the room. But the presence. Gray felt his body grow cold and his head grow light. He had found him. And before he was able to register that his body had begun the trek to the bar top, his forearms were resting against the varnished wood and he was watching the back of his brother’s head as he puttered around on the back bar. Gray inhaled, calmed his nerves and voice. “Hell of a place you’ve got here, Brov,” he said, aiming for calm. He fell short with a waiver and an interrogative note to the last word. But he watched with one normal eye and one severely scarred one trained on where he knew Zander’s would be. |