Brooklyn sighed as he watched Goliath with Elisa down below him, in a lower tier of the castle ramparts. He had watched since she'd first appeared-her brisk, perky stride both determined and purposful-always taking her somewhere important, somewhere worthwhile. Tonight it had taken her right up to the leader of the gargoyle clan-the massive, incurruptably pure Goliath-and it was not long before sheepish looks about them lead to their kissing and their laughing as if they had not a care in the world. Brookyln tried not to be envious of them. He knew Goliath needed her-but what about him? He needed someone too, they all did. He thought bitterly about Angela and Maggie-how they had rejected him. Maggie had outright spurned him-and that had hurt the worst, because he had truly felt that they where made for each other-both desperate and alone, needing someone to be strong for them in the ways that they each where weak. Angela had never even seen him for who he was, and he still felt that she had never even tried. She'd looked right through him as though by looks alone he been rejected from her consideration. He somewhat disliked her for this and he was often angered by just stupid things she did. He called her airhead in his mind and didnt respect her in the least internally. Broadway, her chosen mate, had used to be his best friend, but now he was more distant from the red gargoyle, and it was almost as though an akwardness had formed not only between him and Brooklyn, but between them and Lexington as well. Day by day saw Lexington fading more and more into the world of technology and computers, and Brooklyn suspected the day was soon to come when he wouldnt even be able to hold a conversation with him anymore, because Lex would be completely consumed by his studies, studies Brooklyn did not care to learn himself.
Brooklyn had been consumed by desperation for quite awhile now. Depression had eaten away at his exteriour to the point where it was only a matter of the right force and his whole shell would crack and crumble, leaving nothing but a limp, shapeless blob devoid of lust or aim. He had considered all his options to escape his otherwise inevitable sinking-and they where few. The one he had selected first to try was the one that left the most bitter taste in his mouth, but it was the most convenient. He had decided to try and convince his most hated enemy to help him get to Avalon.
Avalon. He had dreamed about going there ever since Goliath had come back with the story of a whole clan of scottish gargoyles there-and of their own blood, no less. It stuck with him and consumed him night and day and he knew hed never be satisfied until he went there himself. In his minds eye he saw it as the home he had known 1000 years ago-a home the harsh, dispicable times of the day had resculpted into a utopia that he longed to revive and relive.
Demona was the only one he knew besides Goliath and Elisa who might know how to get to Avalon. He could never ask the latter two he knew. If he went, it would have to be in secret. For some reason, he was pretty sure Demona would help him. He first approached her with a letter-written and sent to Miss Dominique Destine. The letter read as follows:
To Miss Destine-
Or should I say "Demona". Im going to be right to the point here-no point in my playing guessing games as to my identity. Its Brooklyn. I want to meet with you tomorrow night. Twelve o clock-at the Flatiron building. I want to ask your help.
Brooklyn was first to arrive. The demon came about five minuites later, materializing silently from the clear night sky, landing with the grace of her 1000 years and the erect, defensive poise brought about by her heavily fortified sense of steadfast right.
"Well Brooklyn, this was certainly not expected."
She approached him slowly, featureless. He felt her try to read him, try to garner up a story behind a story. There was none though-he had nothing to hide, and he met her eyes with a gaze cool enough to frost a glass, and she stopped six feet before him.
"You know how I feel about you Demona." Brooklyn began.
"That hasnt changed. Im not here to join you in wiping out humanity. I am tired, though." He tried to uphold his tough, frank, unwavering deminour-with about 90 success. "I cant live like the clan lives anymore. Alone. Just the six of us. I need to know if there are other gargoyles. Clans worth fighting this fight for. A hope, you might say. I once heard that you knew of all the remaining clans. Is that true? How many are there?"
Demona pursed her lips. "Brooklyn, I know exactly how you feel. There arnt many clans around at all, believe me. As far as I know, besides the clones we are the only gargoyles on this continent. You know there are a few clans in Britain, Japan, South America. A few more besides that. Do you think that youll find solice with one of them? What makes you think that their lives are any better than yours here?
no, if you ask me their lives are worse. They dont have men like Xanatos with such strong motives to help keep them alive. I would show them to you, Brookly, but I doubt it would do you any good. To be frank, I dont even care to waste my time."
"There is one other clan Demona. Or have you forgotten? The clan Angela came from, the clan on Avalon."
Demona smirked. "also "protected" by humans. AND the same humans who mocked us so many years ago, no less. Although, I must say it might be your best selection if you insist on co-existing. At least there are only a few of them there, as opposed to countless millions"
Brooklyn gritted his teeth. Just get the meeting over with. "Thats why I wrote to you. I need your help getting there."