Turning to Stone

Turning to Stone
Date of Scene:	20 January 2013
Location:	Mullonde
Synopsis:	On a visit to Mullonde, Count Valos encounters a real gargoyle amongst the statues, and a conversation about the prospect of turning to living stone commences.
Cast of Characters:	Zia, Count Valos

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Count Valos has posed:
It was not always easy to enter the holy city of Mullonde, because as the main realm harboring the most prominent bastion of Glabados, they tended to ask lots of questions before allowing people inside. No, one didn't have to buy a permit, for the most part, but Count Valos had something working in his favor.... a name. The Count presented at the front gate a name going by 'Faruja Senra', who'd sent him, and he received access without the typical waiting period. Of course, there were other ways inside of the place without trouble- supervisors who were at the entrance who were more informed than the lower-ranked guardsmen knew a servant of Lucavi when they saw one; or in some cases, they merely /thought/ they knew one if they saw one.

Gargoyles, possessing wings and skin of a grey or alabaster color and also possessing tails could easily sneak through without any trouble, if they so desired. Gargoyles and Archaic Demons resembled one another very heavily, perhaps unbeknownst to each other, and also tended to be creatures of the night, so if by chance, a gargoyle wanted access.... they could probably get it without any delay. Nevertheless, in a vast and comprehensive fusion of worlds, other races also received some grace, because Glabados was always looking for converts- however, no country is without border control, especially a strict one governed by religious zealots who couldn't afford to be undermined by spies or double-agents.

By virtue of his reference, provided by Faruja, Valos was now strolling the city during the evening hours. He was headed towards an inn that was said to have particularly sturdy floors; he knew that no bed would have the ability to shoulder his tremendous weight, so he always slept on the ground, but even woodwork of certain establishments could be deemed unfit to bear his poundage. Stopping by a smaller subsidiary belonging to the central building that facilitated the institution known as 'Glabados', Gidarch stared up at the church, observing a few of the /true/ gargoyles situated on an outcropping, and commented to himself, "Hmmm.... not a far cry from my own composition... now if I but had the horns and the wings."

These were not the living type, as far as he knew, so he wagered he was only speaking to himself. Few people wandered around at night.... most business was conducted during daylight hours, because the monks and priests had early bedtimes, or holed up for the majority of the dusk's reign, when they immersed themselves in their studies, so as to be able to indoctrinate the populace and keep them faithful..... or mayhap, fearful...

Zia has posed:
No, it is not particularly hard for a gargoyle to sneak into the city at night, even with the security elsewhere. It's a long way from Fluorgis for the girl who is using the Shard Seekers HQ as a sort of half-way house for wayward creatures, but someone had wanted a package delivered into the city, and the pouch full of munny had made it more than worth her trouble. She'd dropped the item in question off at the designated spot - just a letter tucked against one of the many statues that adorn the city's rooftops.

That's when she'd caught the familiar name - being used by someone wholely unfamiliar. The white gargoyle certainly blends in among the architecture, so it isn't too hard for her to sneak around, following the strange man through the streets. A head peeks out here, there is a flash of a tail there, but she's decently stealthy for the most part. There's no cans of food or other things to fall and give away her position tonight.

It isn't until he stops to talk to the gargoyles that Zia dares drawing closer. The movement might be seen easily enough in the shadows. There is the white face of a girl with wings, looking not to dissimilar from a demon being slain in one of the stone images nearby. "Ah wonder wha it is aboot people 'n wishin tha they could fly." She comments, her voice with that strange accent that is entirely otherworldly for this place. "Though ah have te wonder more-so what yer doin givin someone else's name te the guards? Ye certainly dinnae look like a mouse te me, nae unless m'friend has had more tha jus a change of heart, but a change o'body."

Count Valos has posed:
The Count 'heard' sounds of movement, but since he was more preoccupied with pondering the nature of the parables he'd read in the book given him, and on the magnificent gargoyles perched atop the ledge of the church, he hadn't concerned himself with Zia's presence too much; there were a couple people sprinkled about here and there, so until he saw wings, and a tail, the girl didn't strike him as unusual.

Upon actually taking in a visual accounting, he clicked his tongue a few times to assure himself he wasn't imagining what he saw- the vibrations bounced off of Zia's form, returning to him and giving him a mental picture that was more accurate than the one his eyes obtained through the obscuring darkness of the night. There was no mistaking it.... she had wings, but no horns as did her 'brethren' located high above. Once addressed, Gidarch replies, "Ah. Well, if you were eavesdropping not long ago, you must have misheard the conversation. It would have been easy enough to misinterpret what was spoken when the area was on the noisy side, and you were not up close. I had said to the guards that Mister Faruja Senra is the one who sent me..... not that I was him." He nods to the gargoyle, hoping that clarifies his stance on the matter- and since Valos is soft-spoken, one could never fault another for not hearing him properly; while sensitive to sound in that it helps him to analyze his surroundings, it also serves to irritate him, music in specific being an agitator to his auditory nerves.

A number of people have had to have Gidarch repeat himself because of the gentle volume of his vocalization. The dark one rubs his chin, "I.... suppose then, that you are also familiar with Mister Senra. And given that you are in the city of the divine, can I assume you are one of its acolytes?" Easy enough of a conclusion is it to draw, but in this instance, possibly incorrect; though, the fact that she matched the gargoyles had him thinking she was one of their spies, for her appearance could potentially decrease the suspicion factor in her presence, at least within a city as highly ornate as Mullonde, with its many statues and carvings. Who is to say Glabados would not have hired demonic beings to pose as figurines in such a fascist faction as those belonging to the servants of Faram?

As to her initial observation, Gidarch proposes to her, "If you want to know why people desire flight.... that is simple- all living entities that strive to live, crave, because they think it will ensure their existence. The more resources one amasses, the more one's success at survival is guaranteed, or so their logic most likely goes. You find me someone who yearns for nil, and I will find you someone who is without flaw.... undoubtedly, I will be directing your attention to the very entity you have already brought before me."

Zia has posed:
It isn't hard for her to have mis-heard, as she wasn't really paying attention to what the guards had said in the first place. All she had caught is that name. So, there is no embarassment on the gargoyle's face when she's corrected. "The mouse sent ye?" She asks, tilting her head. Those ears of hers are expressive, moving with the shift of her lips, canting slightly upward when she asks the question. "Ahh well, Ah suppose tha's nae te suprising. He tried te send me here when m'world fell, so it's nae too unlikely tha he'd try te convert others."

She chuckles at the prospect of being one of the acolytes of this church, and shakes her head. One hand rests on her fellow stone gargoyle, leaning a bit out to get a better look at him. "Nae, lad. M'kind believe in a different sorta spirit tha has naethin te do with this god or any other. But the sweet knight is a friend of mine, so Ah suppose if he sent ye here, then Ah should assume ye arenae one of those heretics he's always goin on aboot." She smirks a bit, white hair falling over her shoulder as she leans down to watch him. "Ah havete keep remindin 'im tha Ah'm a heretic, m'self."

Her tail wraps around the leg of a beast next to her, working as a counter balance. Some of what he says makes sense, though and she nods her head. "Oh, Ah yearn fer a great many things, but mosta the time Ah stick te things Ah can work towards. Things Ah can hold in m'hands. It's the dreams of things that cannae be that ne'er made much sense te me. Be'ta te enjoy bein what ye are, then te dream of something ye can never be."

Count Valos has posed:
Inattentiveness was something they could rightfully be accused of, for while Gidarch was preoccupied with gargoyles and fables, he hadn't been /as/ aware of Zia as he'd normally have expected from himself; nonetheless, he was conscious enough that she didn't take him by surprise to the extent that she was completely off of his radar. Not obscenely shocked, he'd seen gargoyles in his own world, and half-wondered if she was from his native land, or not, therefore, he saw fit to ask her a question, "Know you, by chance, the Lodestone Cavern?" Infamous in his own right, the Dark Elf King had carried out a plan wherein he stole Toroia's crystal.

To some, it was viewed as providence, since Baron didn't have a chance to lay waste to Toroia as they had done Damcyan, given that there was no crystal to be stolen by the Red Wings. Gargoyles served under Golbez, so any such beast would've known of the Dark Elf King and his impregnable subterranean fortress. After asking this question, he responds to her words, not one to take without giving, "I can not say if I am a heretic or not, without knowing his definition." As a gust picks up, it blows Gidarch's hair into his eyes, causing him to wince for a second, in annoyance; it's very subtle, but for whatever reason, the breeze doesn't agree with him; is it due to his hair being a nuisance, or the air itself? Certainly, with Zia's locks, it must've inconvenienced her and battered at her face in addition, which made Count Valos realize something. Magnetizing his armor, he arises, until he's level with her altitude, at which point he hovers towards the outcropping and seats himself upon it, blocked from the current by a an adjacent statue.

From here, she might be able to hear him a little easier with less straining on both their ends, too, which must've been the case previously, when factoring in that Gidarch barely raised his communicatory volume; the gap closed, he can employ his speaking voice, that'd been /slightly/ altered to what he perceived would qualify as an accommodation for Zia, moments prior, whilst he 'd still been afar. "One can aspire to do absolutely nothing, wanting for nothing, to the point that one expires due to bodily neglect, thus never savoring the fruits of their labor, since they'd worked towards an inability to enjoy anything. One can also desire everything in existence, and so too never reach their goal, for always will there be some void wherein a lack of pacification has been met, no matter how much they toil" He pounds his knuckles lightly against his breastplate, to emphasize the point he's about to make, "Either extreme yields an unsatisfactory outcome, yes?"

From there, Count Valos flicks his wrist, as if letting go of the importance of what he just said, in favor of a new idea, "It occurs to me that one should strive for what they believe is attainable, yet, be then content with what they get, regardless of whether or not it was what they originally sought, or else perpetually blame themselves over their inevitable failures." He shrugs, and looks down at the ground many meters beneath, being thankful that his attempt to levitate met with success, disqualifying the need for having to amplify his loudness. "I am concerned remotely over what I reach for, but far more over how I react when the outcome's time culminates.... and that is my own way. I do not suggest you adopt it unless you feel so compelled...."

Zia has posed:
"Lodestone cavern?" The gargress repeats the name of the location, seeming to mull it over in her mind. There were many places that she'd seen since the worlds fell, but many of them she didn't know the names of, and even more lay out there, beyond the horizon. "Ah'm afraid I havenae heard of it, lad. Is there somethin Ah should know aboot it?" She is clearly not the type of gargoyle from his own world. They were monsters, for the most part, similar to the Heartless that bore their resemblence. It was rare for any of them to be intelligent enough for matters of speech.

The wind doesn't seem to bother Zia as much as it does the Elf. She had spent most of her life living in tune with it. Even a gargoyle who wasn't elementally focused like she is would have still had that inate feeling of knowing that came with every part of the body. They felt the wind within them, and that, in part, is how they are able to fly so gracefully. At least, that's what her father had always told her. Her eyes do watch him as he moves, though, backing off slightly to leave a polite amount of space between them, the gargress leaning against a statue, her tail wrapped around it's own.

Her head tilts as he goes about trying to explain himself, and confusion is written on the set of her features, "Ah... think Ah follow ye, but Ah cannae say tha Ah give those matters much thought." She shrugs easily. Philosophy - not her strong suit. "So wha is it tha ye really are yearnin fer, then? Fer me, Ah'm mostly just tryin te get by. Learn wha Ah can te protect those Ah care aboot. Make sure wha happened te m'world doesnae happen again te someone else's." She leans against the statue, tapping at it with one talon. "It's probably an impossible task, especially with those dark ones out there workin against us, but it's at least a goal te work towards, Ah suppose."

Count Valos has posed:
It was true.... most gargoyles from Count Valos' world of origin were not terribly intelligent, mainly confined to the 'monster' category, with only a few exceptions he'd heard of; it didn't hurt to inquire, nonetheless, as to whether or not she was native to his land. With her refuting of the notion that she had any familiarity with his homeland, Gidarch ruffled his front bangs a little, and remarked, "It.... is not a place of much concern now, at any rate, I gather; it appears as though what once was is now no longer, and I have no knowledge of how to repeal the condition besetting this expanse."

He shrugs, and flicks a wrist uncaringly, "But it is of no consequence; things are as they are." The Count watches as she scoots a little bit to adhere to the custom of offering space, and he inwardly thinks this a pleasant thing; although he tries not to be territorial consciously, on some level, his mind still entertains the idea of, and gives validity to, the notion that personal space is the right of living entities- with himself included within said equation. His tail, not as impressive as her own, also clings to a statue, giving him anchorage in the event that he loses his balance- his physique may not look terribly durable, but in truth, his stoney composition gave him enough vigor to carry great burdens, thus,.... if he fell, his tail's hold might yield enough chronological leniency for him to regain a solid position by physically scrambling back atop the ledge.

"I would say that general maintenance is my primary goal. The other is to amplify an ability of mine to the next stage of potency, but it may take some time to do, and for all I know, I may have to bargain with higher powers to attain what I crave." With that, he leans his chin on the palm of his hand, listening to Zia intently; it'd be rude to disregard the effort she's putting in to communicate, "The dark ones.... Hmm. You are the second person I have met to bring their mention into circulation." Gidarch waves a hand, as though unimpressed, "I cannot say that I have had many personal experiences with the Shadow Lords, but from rumors alone I base my presently held inferences. They still have yet to conquer their most formidable opponent, and until this happens, they can never hope to destroy what I hold dear."

With that, the dark elf folds his arms over his chest defiantly, and a subtle grin splays over his lips, but it's a momentary sentimental impulse born of arrogance, and he admonishes himself for this, which is ensued by the resuming of more pertinent duties- paying heed to Zia's words, instead of merely voicing his own thoughts, "I take it.... you have lost people who were of great value to you, and that pain drives you to preserve your newfound articles of worth.... or any that might remain from the past?" An obvious supposition, but since she said she lost her 'world', it must've contained people therein, since a world without other life forms to pledge one their compassion is nary a thing to consider a loss, if it does indeed end up being revoked!

Zia has posed:
While sometimes Zia might stand apart for having an accent, she has spoken her Scottish form of 'English' all her life. The fact that so many others use it has always been a bit of a surprise. At the moment, though, her brain tries to parse what the Elf is saying, and sometimes it just isn't keeping up. "So... yer cavern is gone, 'n ye dinnae know how te get it back?" She hazards a guess, hoping that she's at least somewhat close to what he might have meant. His way of speaking is quite formal, and it takes some getting used to.

"Maintenance?" She asks, head cocking to the side. The later bit about having to bargain with higher powers leaves a strange feeling in her stomach. She had caught whisper of people making deals with the Shadow Lords, and they rarely came out well for anyone but the dealer. "Ye may nae think tha the Shadow Lords hold tha much power, but Ah've seen it first hand. M'world is gone 'cause of them, 'n Ah'll give ye fair warnin nae te underestimate them." Her hand instinctively goes to her neck. The strings of a necklace are visible there, but the pendant itself is hidden beneath her clothes.

"Ah admit, Ah dinnae understand wha ye mean by 'their most formidable opponent'. Do ye mean the mouse?" It's a wild guess, based on the fact that she had seen the mouse with the strange key twice during the battle for Manhattan. What had happened to him afterwards? She had wanted to speak with him, to find out how he was able to project himself, maybe what he knew about what had happened.

It's more his next question that has her looking more puzzled, if that is possible. "A long time ago." She shrugs her shoulders, "But Ah woundae say tha's the reason. Ah've been runnin fer too long, tryin jus' te survive. Ah cannae just stand idlely by while more people lose their homes, their families, te this darkness." Looking out at the city, she scans her eyes skyward, "Ah havete try." It's not the greatest of explinations, but there it is none the less.

Count Valos has posed:
As difficult as it is for Zia to decode what Gidarch says, the drow is also having to exert some effort into understanding her- but at least her accent hasn't hindered her ability to form complete thoughts, which was more than what might be speakable on behalf of some. However, he hasn't really made any deals with anyone yet- but it's entirely possible he /could/ be speaking of the Shadow Lords; this despite the fact that he's asserted that they hold much less power than is held to be a truth by popular belief. So far, though.... he's dealt with less extravagant persons, and they didn't accommodate, so who else to go to but the devil himself? "My chasm is of little consequence. Have you not noticed that my skin is partially petrified on a permanent basis?..... Let us just say that I want a greater ability over government of mineralization; presently, my ability to turn entities to stone is limited, and the effect has infirmity in its longevity." He shrugs a little, expecting Zia to become uncomfortable at the reference to turning 'entities' into stone, since twice now, when he mentioned it to others, they found it highly distasteful.

Elaborating "In my world, Mysdian wizards sometimes had the capacity to invoke spells of petrification that could resist even the conventional Esuna spells, however, I never quite mastered that.... but given my affinity for earthen manipulation, I can't conceive of it being beyond my grasp, I just need a little.... help." Of course, Zia may or may not have much empathy for Valos, since she, in all likelihood, must convert to rock involuntarily, and here the drow is... wanting to be able to turn others.... or even himself into stone, at will- it's almost like a slap in the face to gargoyles who regard their condition as a curse. Though, as soon as Zia inquires as to whom Gidarch is referring when the drow hints that the Shadow Lords have yet to face their ultimate adversary, he chuckles, "I highly doubt that a mouse is the incarnation of their worst fear..... no... it would be too easy to dispense with a tangible thing. The extent of the Shadow Lords' power, as I understand it, is over life and death; which is quite a paltry matter."

When the dark one refers to 'life and death' as a meager affair, one might be inclined to wonder what could be greater, but since he didn't actually speak his mind initially, despite having an opportunity, it may be that he'd rather let Zia fill in the blanks herself, or muddle over it for a spell, until such time that she comes upon some revelations. The Count taps his pyritized fingers lightly against the outcropping he's seated upon, allowing physical action to help him accelerate his thought process, while also taking in her words with utmost consideration, "I guess the two of us differ. You can't condone the 'epidemic' sweeping across this bundle of worlds, and I am quite content to accept inevitability. I am gradually in the process of purging myself of.... the concept of my 'self'. So there you have it. Two oppositional forces meet, this eve.... one strives, and one stagnates. I am grateful for you that you have not tried to recruit me; but neither do I condemn you for doing what you feel compelled to do." He bows to her in a gracious manner, as best as can be done while sitting, at any rate,"....You are honorable, in your unimposing manner."

While his tone is mostly impassive, there's a minute trace of solace in how he speaks- maybe she doesn't even know why, but Zia is the second person to truly impress him, and this is quite an achievement, when accounting for the fact that the only other person accomplished this by virtue of being a dark elf, which Morrighan earned automatically by the happenstance of being of Gidarch's race!

Zia has posed:
The gargoyle pauses when he asks her that question. Hadn't she noticed? The girl looks at him with her head cocked, eyes taking in his form. Really, she isn't the sort to spend that much time considering the appearances of others, perhaps because there are so many variations among her own kind, and she has seen so many different creatures since coming from Manhattan into the myriad of worlds beyond. "Ah've never seen a creature like ye before, so honestly Ah didnae know there was anythin unusual te notice." She lifts her shoulders slightly, looking at the mineralization a bit more closely now that he's pointed it out. "It has a beauty te it."

While it wouldn't be a stretch for her to react to the idea of turning to stone, the gargress just listens, ears tilting slightly as she works to imagine the circumstances of people who would choose to turn themselves to stone. "M'kind can turn te stone 'n back again. So far as Ah'm aware, magic doesnae work on it, since it's part of wha we are. 'Course, we dinnae have control over it, really." Biology is a wonderful and sometimes confusing thing. "It isnae something Ah could teach even if Ah wanted te."

When it comes to the Shadow Lords, Zia doesn't even try to make too much sense of it. There were too many of them, from too many places, with too many reasons for doing the things that they do. She lets it go, rather than trying to sort through those bits and pieces she's picked up from facing them in the Labyrinth. "Maybe it's inevitable, maybe not. It's hard te know which if ye dinnae try. But nae..." She laughs to herself, "Ah'm nae the sort te try te recruit ye te any great cause. Tha's something Ah'm still tryin te figure out fer m'self. Yer welcome te her own path, and good on ye fer wherever it leads ye." She doesn't quite grasp the whole idea of purging the 'self', but just like when speaking to Faruja about his 'god', she just accepts that they view things differently and moves along without trying to change their way of seeing things.

She pulls herself up atop one of the gargoyles, crouching there. She hadn't meant to stop for a chat, but encountering strange people has become commonplace these days. "Ah wouldnae say honorable. There're many a sort out there far moreso than me, lad. Ah jus am wha Ah am." Her tail wraps around the neck of the creature below her, "So, if yer searchin fer the knowledge of these Mysians, why did ye come here, then?" Curiousity drives her to ask, clearly mispronouncing the name of the wizards he had mentioned.

Count Valos has posed:
The Count's lips bend upwards at the very tips, hinting that he enjoyed her comment about his 'skin' being referred to as having beauty to it.... but tries not to focus too deeply, let he get caught up in feelings that are bound to drive him towards investment in others. His eyes wander off to the side as he briefly allows his thoughts to carry him away, until he brings himself back, and just in time to hear her talk about transforming into stone, at which point he's no longer tempted to daydream, but speak of logistics, "As far as I understand it, all organic matter is to some degree, porous, which allows motion, but also means that there are cavities that can be filled. Over thousands of years, there are natural methods by which almost any being, living or undead, can be fossilized."

He taps his chin thoughtfully, helping him to draw out the knowledge he'd learned from cavernous dwelling, "But.... to turn something to stone instantaneously, one needs some kind of strange magic, or.... well, however you do it, it probably involves your body having properties that allow it to calcify- but with your changing from flesh into whatever sort of stone you become..... I would actually be interested to know what kind of stone you become." Count Valos waves his hand, "I become a very dense version of Adamantite.... which is a mineral parallel to the metal, Adamantium; the molecular structure of both are impressive, for those scientifically inclined. Similar to diamond in toughness, but not as brittle." He looks down at his chest, then lightly scratches his armor with the claw of his index finger, "This here is just silver, and can be magnetized to be an asset or liability.... but Adamantite comes from an Ore in Silvera, and doesn't respond very well to electromagnetic wavelengths- theoretically, one could make armor out of it in order to storm the lair of the Dark Elf King, but...."

Shrugging, Valos tacks on,"The guy who owns the mine which contains Adaman ore is stingy, I hear.... and only trades it with those who bring him.... dried up tails?", he raises a brow, as if virtually asking Zia; hey, just because he doesn't see the appeal of severed tails doesn't mean it's totally assured that the gargess can't educate him.... yet, the chances are, she'll find it just as eccentric as Gidarch does. He waves his hand, relieving her of any obligation to actually answer if she doesn't wish to- evidently the acquired tastes of others' is not something the dark one cares about too heavily, "I am indeed glad that you are not trying to rally me to your banner..... but it is certainly wise that you heed your own call." He's pleased that she has a sense of humility, and doesn't gloat too much once he throws a compliment her way; the nobleman wouldn't condemn her if she wallowed in a bit of grandioseness after being praised, but some people went overboard after getting a little bit of attention, and seeing that she wasn't that type was more than a relief- yes, this person is definitely entitled to some respect.

Those who took a mile when given an inch?

That would be the last inch Valos ever offered the aforementioned as any kind of concession. Flipping his hair out of his face for a moment as he addresses her, so that she can hear him without any impediment to his speech is a surefire sign that he reveres her with dignity, but she doesn't know him well enough to realize this gesture's significance, just yet! "I came here because Mister Senra invited me to his city to pursue the schools of thought stemming from his religious orientation, but I must confess this.... I have not had my mind stimulated as much as I had hoped would be the case during this trip; it is hard to find someone worthy enough to present to me an intellectual challenge that would evoke excitement within my cranial recesses." And just like that, the dark one sighs, disappointedly, looking off to the side, away from Zia, mayhap lost in his internal lamentations. But he twists back to face her, a second later, "You must pardon my inattentiveness this eve, it seems that this continuous breeze is distracting me." True to his words, the wind had been a bit more robust, and hadn't calmed down much from when they began their conversation.

Zia has posed:
Unlike some modern gargoyles, science is not this pale girl's strong suit. In fact, it isn't something she's really dabbled much with, other than in the most mechanical of fashions. Fixing bits and pieces of discarded electronics is the extent of what she knows about the 'art', with far more of her focus having always been on magic. "If Ah had the choice, Ah wouldnae choose te turn te stone. It leaves ye too vulnerable." Her hand goes up to the crystal at her throat, which once held the power to keep her flesh rather than stone. "M'da usedte tell stories aboot how entire clans got wiped out by a few humans. It's nae great wonder why we're on the edge of extinction."

She offers no real answers as to what sort of stone she becomes, raising her shoulders in a shrug. "Couldnae tell ye. It isnae as if Ah've had a lot of opportunities te examine m'self when Ah'm in stone sleep." Even back when her parents were alive, Zia was never the one to stay up and guard the family, so she can only guess what it looks like from an outsider's perspective. As such, a lot of his words don't mean much to her, especially the bit about the Dark Elf king. "It sounds like a useful thing, at least, in yer case."

Releasing her wings somewhat, the gargress lets the wind catch them, "Couldnae tell ye why someone would want te collect tails, but Ah would imagine they're a reagent of some sort. Probably some sort'a magic." It's a guess, and a sort of spellwork that she didn't tend to dabble too much into. Things that required killing creatures as a sacrifice were usually the worst sort of dark magic.

Where he may be the sort to stay still, Zia is more the sort to follow where the wind goes. "While Ah do believe tha our mutual friend believes his own words, Ah think he sends people here in the hopes they'll come 'round te his way of thinkin." She smirks softly. "He told me the same, but Ah dinnae trust places like this." She taps on the statue beneath her. "They dinnae tend to see m'kind as angels of the night." With a tilt of her head, Zia regards him speaking about the breeze. "Well, perhaps Ah should stop wastin yer time on me, 'n let ye search fer what ye came here fer. Besides, the winds are callin me te the skies. Need te scout this place 'n find a safe bit'a rooftop to roost on before Ah head home."

Count Valos has posed:
As one who was heavily entrenched within the discipline of brandishing electromagnetic forces, Count Valos was quite familiar with machines, and some degree of science- mostly tidbits here and there; concepts pertaining to electricity and geology. Chemistry, beyond the process of permineralization was not his strong-point, but in a vast nexus such as the World of Ruin, there were opportunities into which the dark one had yet to tap! When Zia points out the problematic nature of being converted into rock, Gidarch rubs his head a little, "Hmm... It sounds like your condition of geo-stasis imposes upon you a stone type that isn't as durable as those from my world, when petrified. But in my world, being changed into a fossil was usually defined as a hexing as well, for while in stone slumber.... one couldn't really be damaged, but one would have to depend on their allies to carry them back to a place where the spell could be undone, or hope to have a strong enough Esuna to do it themselves. In some cases, groups would have to leave behind individuals who could not be reverted into their original form."

He nods, and raises a finger, to append a new, relevant line of thought, "....Yet, in Mysdia, the highest ranking of sorcerers could both inflict and undo petrification spells that were beyond the capacity of other sages with access to status-transient arcana. As far as I was aware, before my arrival here, that only the Mysdian Elder could wield this caliber of transmutation." The drow has neglected to discuss /why/ he wants to be able to change beings into stone irreversibly, but he was trying to show courtesy by focusing on responding to Zia's commentary, rather than to ramble too heavily about his own ambitions in life.... the chances are, it's no big secret, but some types of people aren't inclined towards garnering attention towards their own direction; the dark one is just such a fellow.

"Perhaps.... if it interests you, you could find a confidante to inspect you during your hibernation as a statue, to enlighten you as far as your composition. Perchance it would be that you could have enchantments applied to your person, so that during your vulnerable state you could be laminated in some kind of chemical or energy in order to reduce permeability.... A magical, or chemical treatment that would be compatible with your type of stone." He bobs his head back and forth casually, pondering over the possibility- he doesn't really expect her to consider his prospect for very long, but if he could be helpful in some way, mayhap some self-education on the nature of her geological comprising and its potential for accentuation was it! The Count was not always selfish.... just most of the time; on this occasion, he felt he'd linked with a kindred spirit, and believed that her survival would encourage the perpetuation of a superior attitude, mayhap to the degree that it'd enhance the world in some noticeable manner..... One could dream, right? "I would not refer to Mister Senra as a mutual friend. Such would imply that I harbor positive feelings towards him; consequently, an enemy he is not, either. I merely know /of/ him- my feelings about his welfare are scant, if they be existent at all. I acknowledge him as an entity composed of both energy and matter, as I would do almost any other so-called 'living' being."

Gidarch waves a hand, signifying that she has been given permission to take her leave as is necessitated by her biological predicament, "Feel free to peruse this place of zealotry until you find an appropriate nesting ground, then. We shall now part ways, I believe, and see what fate has in store for both of us." The dark one nods to Zia and begins to stand, preparing to descend towards the ground below, "Well then. Go forth, and do as you must." This is his version of 'goodbye', but without the positive emotional connotation attached.

Zia has posed:
The prospect of having someone examine her during stone sleep, much less experimenting to find a way to make gargoyles somehow less vulnerable... well, neither sits well with the gargress. "Ah think Ah'll pass, lad. Ye'll havete understand tha it isnae somethin Ah really want random strangers te go pokin inte." Years of being on the run, not trusting people, and generally working hard towards her own self-preservation have left Zia not all that willing to lay that level of faith in anyone. It's hard enough that she has to trust the ShardSeekers with the truth of it, but so long as the crystal at her neck refuses to glow, she's stuck living that half-life.

For now, she doesn't try to sort through how this strange elf sees things, especially his relationships with people. There's quite a lot about him that she doesn't understand. For now, she just inclines her yead. "Fair travels te ye, and best of luck wi yer research. Maybe if ye find another of m'kind, they'll be more apt te help ye." The type of magic that he's looking for isn't really her forte. Sure, some of those books back home had mention of spells of transformation, but living stone is one of those things that only the most powerful spells could touch, and even them, such grimoires were far beyond her reach.

Spreading her wings out, the white gargress pushes off, launching herself skyward. Against the black of night, she's briefly visible in the lights from the buildings, but then - she's gone. Off in search of a place to roost for the upcoming day, now that her task is complete.