You are a knight turned into a statue by the fae White Which style and put into a garden where you stay for millenia, growing moss and having birds take shelter in your now stone shield. The place grows wild as the fae have lost interest in their little sculpture garden but, greedy, jealous things that they are, they’ve hidden it and you away from the prying eyes of those who would look upon you or gods forbid, save you. You don’t see the world changing, only the passage of time through the growing of the grass and trees and even then, you lose track of how long you’ve been here.
You can sometimes hear things, laughter, crying, and its these times when you think you will go mad. The sounds are so close, as though they are just behind a thin curtain and you all anyone has to do is pull it aside. But they don’t. They never do. And so you sit alone, your mind slowly, slowly losing itself. More than once you find yourself missing even the company of the fae who cursed you. You are so lonely.
But then one day you hear something strange. Something is coming through your woods, crashing through it more like, and sounds that are almost voices but you cannot recognize the language. You listen as the sounds get closer and you feel the oncoming frustration which you always feel when people are this close. You curse them in your mind but beneath it all you howl, desperate and raging in your loneliness and grief.
You don’t actually get much time to pity yourself and your situation this time though, because right about the time when most people would be walking past the spot where you stand, you hear the voice coming ever closer. Closer! The Crashing is coming from just passed the trees in front of you and you can’t believe it. There’s someone here. There’s a surprised sound from behind the closest tree and finally a figure emerges, tearing through the curtain that has separated you so long from the outside world. Someone has found you!
But oh, if a statue could lose its breath, yours would be gone. Someone indeed has crashed through into your garden, but nothing you recognize and you feel your heart, long settled into a gentle, slow rhythm, speed up with fear and surprise. For a moment you wonder if it is your captures, the fae having taken a strange new form, but no, they look as surprised to see you as you are to see them.
Colossal things that look more insect than human, tusks like wild boar jutting out from mouths filled with sharp teeth. If you could scream, you most certainly would.
More enter the garden, looking about in wonder at the wildness of it, before their eyes settle on you. The one in front approaches and there’s something in it’s gleaming eyes that looks familiar. You had seen it before in the eyes of dragons looking upon their hoard. It is a look of awe and wonder and greed. It reaches out and scratches the stone skin of your face lightly with a claw. Your sword and shield are useless and heavy in your hands and you curse your vulnerability.
There is a sudden shout from another of the creatures which draws the thing’s attention away from you. You look over too, as well as you can and see it holding something in its hand. A loud noise sounds over the garden, growing louder as the creature approaches you as well. All eyes are on you now and as the object’s incessant beeping turns into a continuous tone, you feel dread build in your chest. The looks you are given now are ones of horror.
Orders are barked and all creatures but the first take steps away from you. You watch as it pulls something out from within its own armour. It points the object at you and in a moment you are blinded by a light that sends your skin burning within its stone casing. You cannot close your eyes, the pain so intense that you almost don’t feel the scream building up in your throat or the cracking of your muscles. You do, however, immediately feel your legs collapse from underneath you as you crumble to the ground.
Your voice is an ugly thing, hoarse and broken and yet you crave the burning of your throat because you can feel it! You can feel the dirt on your face, the wind in your hair. You can feel blood trickle down your cheek from where the creature scratched you not moments before. You look up slowly, your eyes sluggish and heavy, and see the strange face staring down at you. You hear the loud voices of the other creatures behind it, too and the familiar pitch of excitement in their sounds.
You feel the hilt of your sword in your hand and the sturdy heft of your shield. You ignore the way your arms feel like lead, and the way your head swims in favour of the itch in your blood. Because you can feel again! You lash out with your sword but don’t make it far before collapsing again. Not that it matters. Your head hits the ground and you gasp in pain, but you feel it and isn’t that a wonderous thing!?
There are hands on you that stop you before you can crack your head again, but that’s alright because they aren’t gentle and their claws draw blood and it hurts and you laugh. Your fear only comes as you start to lose consciousness and you fight it, terrified of losing the feelings but it’s no use. You are gone, faded to black but your heart roars powerfully in your chest and you feel it.