Laughing delightedly as he glided through the cool night air, he executed a single exuberant somersault before righting himself and landing silently in the shadows nearby. There it was, shining out from the tiny bazaar, glinting in the moonlight. A beaten gold tiara, the object of the young gargoyle's attention, lay glimmering on a bed of blue velvet. The gargoyle's eyes went distant as he imagined it sitting above a brow of a lighter shade of blue, holding back a veritable wealth of fiery red hair. Perfect… He touched the tiny pouch at his waist as the owner of the tent stepped away for a break. His claws caressed the leather, feeling the lumps of the two gold pieces inside. He had found the precious pieces while searching for firewood in the forest, obviously dropped there by some careless trader. He had told no one of his discovery; his clan, having no need for the small pieces of metal, would surely have given them to one of the castle-humans. And he needed them now. He wouldn't be stealing it, he reasoned. He would trade, just as the humans did, these little pieces of metal for that tiara.

Stealthily, he slipped around the corner, making sure the merchant wasn't coming back any time soon, and observed why he had been so eager to leave. The marketplace was empty. Glancing reflexively at the sky behind him, he gained an inkling as to why. The sun had only just gone down, leaving the world shrouded in the fresh darkness of a new night, and the night-jewelers, as this man obviously was, some time to be cooling their heels before their customers began to arrive. Moving to the empty stall, he gently lifted the beautiful piece of jewelry from the stand, wrapping it in the blue velvet to protect it, and left behind the pouch as he silently took wing to head back to the castle.

Goliath smiled sadly and moved into the castle, his eyes not registering much of anything. That had been so very long ago, before the Vikings had come, before the Magus had turned his clan, his family, to stone for a millennium… It had been before Manhattan … and before Elisa

His eyes filled with unexpected tears and he shook his head to dispel them. Drifting through the hallways, he saw neither the members of his tiny clan or the sympathetic glances they gave him, which was just as well. He didn't need to talk, didn't need to know whose fault it had been, because none of that would help him now. His eyes were aching again, he noted, burning as they so often did these days after he'd been 'thinking' for a while. The only thing that seemed to help it was to get away from his clan and think further. Goliath slowly entered the library in the east wing and took his silent place on one of the couches hidden in shadow at the far end of the room. As he closed his eyes and drifted off into a phase that was not quite sleep, he knew, somehow, that another was thinking of the very same time he had just remembered, and the person was feeling the very same way…