"And A Hunting We Will Go"

“By night one way, by day another. This shall be the norm until you find true love’s first kiss. Then, take love’s true form…”

"Knock Twice, well......"

Summary: Sequel to "Please Knock"

Words: 1,234

Warnings! Some mild Sexual Humor!

A/N: Do Gargoyles bathe? I don't think that was ever answered in canon as far as I know. And if they did where exactly did they get the means to do so. Unless their stone sleep does something about that, but meh. I find this more interesting to write about.

They find a hose and a plastic pool. And some soap. How? Goliath isn't sure where or how the trio had conjured up the materials, but at least they had something to use to bathe themselves. 

Unfortunately, he had come to understand that within the massive city of glass and iron that there weren't many bodies of water to wash in. Clean water that is. There is the harbor and the Hudson river, but as with any lake or pond, they were not secluded. Too public, too open for prying eyes. New York as he had come to know was known as the city that never sleeps. 

Humans were everywhere; working day and night without stop. Nothing ever stops, nothing is ever quiet for a moment. Cars, trains, planes, buses; the many means of transportation that this new world uses to travel from one place to another within a blink of an eye are loud. He's not used to all the noise. Or all the lights. So many lights. At times he feels overstimulated by all the commotion and sensations. 

Hudson complained; the trio were enthralled by it. They were young and curious, entertained by all the things this era had to offer.

For him-It took awhile to grow accustomed to the constant commotion.

In any case they were fortunate in one thing-

Lexington's newfound passion for tinkering gives them access to hot water. He discovered some way to heat it without burning the clock tower down. It's an odd contraption created out of stove parts and electricity. While unorthodox it worked, that's all that truly mattered in the long run. 

-

Goliath was alone when he decided to not just bathe but attend to some overdue laundry. Not that he had much. His loincloth was the only clothing he possessed. Now, that he thought about it-it was his only material possession. Not that he owned much of anything per se living in Scotland, but what little he did have was probably gone. 

A thousand years is a long time. 

Time erodes. 

Things decay.

A long, drawn sigh leaves his lips. He blinks and looks around the makeshift bathroom, the harder he stares, the stranger his surroundings feel, the more alien it is to him. 

Brick instead of stone.

Lights instead of fire. 

Automobiles instead of horses. He can hear them through the walls.

The noise is still hard to get used to. He wonders how Elisa can stand it. All the loudness, all the commotion, and moving and flaring lights. 

She's lived here all her life, he argues, she's probably so accustomed to it that it barely registers. 

Goliath frowns, but shakes his head. He continues what he was doing. The belt buckle of his loincloth clinks in his ear, as he unlatches it. It slides away easily without needless complications.

He could never understand why Hudson desired full body clothing. It seemed like a chore to dress and redress. 

But, to each their own, he supposes. 

He fumbles with the old leather to wash it-grabs a washbasin, slides the belt from the loincloth's loopholes. 

After being blown up, attacked, shot at, he's surprised that it had managed to remain in one piece, though some of the edges were singed, burnt black by fire. 

One of his sisters had sewn it for him. Try as he might he was never apt for the craft. His hands were far too large to carefully maneuver such a thin needle. Nor did he have the patience and nimbleness needed for such a long, tedious process. But, his sweet, kind sister went out of her way to make this one as sturdy as possible.

Back then, long before his days of being titled second in command, he had developed a habit of tearing his clothing in battle. A sword or spear flying far too close for comfort, slicing through paper thin fabric. He wasn't embarrassed in the least, but the castle soldiers, especially, did not appreciate the unintended view. 

"Goliath" his old friend called "I'd appreciate it if ya dinna flash everybody every time we go to battle" Goliath scowled at the memory. Humans were puzzling when it came to the very idea or presence of nudity. He never truly understood it, back then and now. 

"I think they're just jealous" the captain slurred as he sipped from his mug of mead. 

"Jealous?" He blinks. He was just barely out of adolescence then "jealous of what?" 

He laughs, merrily drunk "eh, not everyone's just got a mighty sword laying about, lad! No one likes a show off!" His skin flushed an interesting shade of lavender underneath the fire and moonlight. 

He ignores the pang of melancholy the old memory brings with it.

To his kind sister's credit, it lasted the longest. It remained sturdy and weathered every ordeal until now.

Some pieces of leather were flaking off it. The more he washed it, the more wears and tears he found in it.

Perhaps, he should start investing in a new one soon. But, finding materials on the other hand were easier said than done. Not to mention the sewing.

Maybe Elisa might know where to acquire some. But, he hesitates, Elisa has done more for his clan then necessary. He didn't want to burden her with more requests.

But he also didn't want to end up in a situation where he was without some form of modesty. His clan of course would not care in the least.

But, Elisa might take offense to it. 

After a thorough cleaning, he hangs it from a clothes line to dry. And puts his belt aside. He heats the water before dumping in the plastic swimming pool.

He feels ridiculous sitting in it. It's bright pink and far too small for his lumbering body, but he finds away. He uses the bar soap and his talons to scrub away at his skin. 

First his body, then his wings and tail and finally he struggled with the thick monstrosity that was his mane of hair. 

It felt like hours, combing, washing, soaping and picking through knots and tangles. It was quite the pain in the ass, but the last thing he wanted for it was to get matted. 

Or invite lice.

His head felt significantly lighter after he was finished. He felt refreshed. Rising from the makeshift tub, he shakes lose the excess water. They had nothing to dry with. 

A creak is heard behind the door. Goliath doesn't really pay it any heed, it was probably just his clan. Instead he made his way to the ceramic sink to splash some cool water on to his face and to scrub away the grime and dirt. 

"Goliath-" the rush of water had dampened his hearing. Blinded, he snapped his up to follow the call of his name only to freeze upon seeing Elisa in the doorway red head  to toe. Her mouth hung slightly open, whatever she was going to say died on her tongue in light of-

Her eyes were wide-

-they flickered from his face down to-

Oh.

Shit. 

It wasn't like him to swear. But it was appropriate to the situation.

"Imsorry!" She blurted, slamming the door shut, as she scrambled to flee from the sight of his naked body. It echoes. Then everything goes rather eerily quiet.

Well. 

So much for making sure Elisa did not see him nude. 

Of course the Goliath clone just went ahead and made himself an Elisa clone

Guys, Guys!

Goliath is canonically a Dilf. So, Elisa just got the best of both words, a monster man and a dilf.

Remember the blond lady that Goliath kicked in the third episode. Realistically she should have never gotten up again. All her organs would've been mush and her spine probably snapped in half.

Mossy Edge

A quick-not-so-quick illustration about Elisa and Goliath. I am torn between these two different colors. Which one do you like? 1 or 2?

“Morning light can make the most vulgar things tolerable” — the secret history, by donna tartt.