Honestly I was fairly sure the girl was dead, or close enough to it. If it were not for the rise and fall of her chest I would be entirely convinced that she had ceased to exist a few hours ago and really that would hardly be a loss to the world. Why wolves continued to select black-pelted partners and produce black-pelted puppies I would never know. It was such an unfortunate colour...so very blah and last season. After all, that was surely why the sky had fallen, in an effort to eliminate such impurity from the earth. Of course, I did not know of the girls background or breeding and indeed I will be given to admit that the flecks of colour upon her forehead are a unique and pleasing addition to an otherwise drab creature, but aside from that she is as black and common as the rest of them. She is also as evidently weak of mind as the others, so lost and trapped in her grief she seems to have decided that the appropriate cause of action is to lay herself at my gorgeous paws and allow grief to take her mind and soul. To allow for such a thing is a vile weakness, one that we of the Art are taught to eliminate as early as possible. We do not regret. Never. That is a weakness, a sickness that will consume you and she allows for that which is past to haunt her now. Not all can be as strong as the Angels, as blessed of blood and feature or skill and training. Why I am even wasting my time with her I cannot say, even so, I’ve touched the girl now, I might as well see if she has any potential use to me.
She mumbled something, a no of sorts, as she recoiled within herself, legs shifting before it seemed that the very thought of getting up was entirely to much for her to bear. Such vile weakness! She would never make an Angel, of that I was entirely sure, this girl could have no possible relation to myself and for that I was inherently glad. After all, with the knowledge that the only other Assassin lines sill in existence were both carrying that agitating black gene I have become rather wary of anything coloured in a midnight hue. Not that I fear my own assassination of course, I fear being paired off with one of them as Isola and Kane had been. Of course, when the time is right I shall view the produce of the Devil line and the Arsenic one (I am content to ignore Jaidah’s lineage, legitimate or not) and select for myself a white-pelted female to carry my exceptional children. After all, save for my sisters that is really the only thing a girl is good for now isn’t it? I rolled my eyes, violet blue orbs twisting in their sockets as the girl put on rather a splendid show, yet never did I allow the gentle smile to leave my lips or my voice so smooth and sweet to be given to release any taint of scorn as I looked upon the tall creature, her own head lifting at last to meet my gaze with her common golden coloured eyes.
Actually.....really her eyes weren’t all that bad, if anything they looked rather more distraught then I had given her credit for, as if the pain of her grief was almost a physical one, it consumed her, flowed through her and really in that moment it was almost as if I felt it, the agonizing ache of understanding that she could never have back what had been taken from her. I really was sad, depressingly so, heart-wrenchingly so as if my very soul ached with how broken I was.....no I goddamn wasn’t! I ripped my gaze from her own, stumbling backwards as the heckles on my spine lifted like lances, lips peeling back from wicked white fangs as I snarled, as if forceful trying to eject this...feeling from within myself. Why the hell did I feel sad? I wasn’t the least bit sad for that dirty little wretch! Whoever had died had probably deserved it, they were probably weak and ill-bred, a mongrel just like her and yet even as I thought the words I disliked them, they rose within my throat like bile, like a giant set of jaws had clamped themselves around my throat, biting down harder each time I thought something harsh about the creature who lay before me. How dare I say such things about my very own.....soul.
"Non, oh no. Non vobis, quare vos! Cur me?!"
The words feel from my lips in a rush as my heckles fell flat, lips falling across my sizeable jaws once more in utter shock of the situation. Fate had a freaking bad sense of humour. I stared blankly at the girl, beautiful eyes blinking in shock and surprise. I couldn’t have this, I didn’t need this, my career had only just started, I could not have such a weakness tied to my very soul. I should kill her, end her now while she could barely stand and yet even the thought made me want to retch, my stomach turning in on itself as my soul danced and swung around her own, clinging to it, praising the heavens for this feeling of perfection and completion. My soul was a traitor. I paced, unaware I was even doing such a thing, claws slicing at the earth as I turned and looped again and again, thoughts and emotions tangling within themselves in a habit I had inherited from my sire. Imprint. I had an imprint. I could never tell anyone, oh no, no one could ever know about this, about her. Of course my assumptions about the girl had been wrong, clearly she must be of impeccable blood and breeding to be MY soul mate. Yes, yes, she was surely descended from some dark angel, she had white markings after all, that had to mean something. I could handle this, I was Azrael, Angel of Death, son of the Great Heyel and Immortal Zeivah, blood of the Angel. She spoke, my soul spoke, her words soft and barely audible and yet they ring within my ears like howl. Lay with me?!
"I’m a bit busy over here, don’t pressure me women!"
I snapped the words towards her recumbent form and instantly felt ashamed at them. How dare I yell at her?! I would bloody dare if I wanted. No, no I shouldn’t do that, I was developing a split personality and oh my lord why was she so sad! I snarled once more, jerking my glowing white form away from the ravine I had ploughed for myself with my paws, stalking towards her, tall, powerful frame pausing beside the creature that fate had given me, the beautiful dark girl so gripped with grief. She was so perfect. She would be my secret forever, she had to be.....but it didn’t mean i was happy about it. I couldn’t take her sadness any more. I slumped down to the earth, rolling my powerful and muscular form against her own until snow blended with coal and my soul sung and danced and spun like the fool that it was at this touch. She better get happy, I was sitting in the dirt for her, I didn’t sit in the dirt for anyone. Opalescent eyes turned towards her once more, resting upon the gold of her own before I jerked my head away once more, resting it between my own paws.
"You’d better get happy, girl, it’s a long walk back to my den and your coming with me....just so you know. I’m Azrael by the way, the Angel Prince and your new Guardian"
She moaned, apparently my name was now reducing girls to pleasure, either that or her body was racked with some pain once more, the edges of such an emotion forcing themselves inside my own white form, body coiling involuntarily around her own, pulling her close as my soul demanded through a bond unlike anything I had ever felt before. Half of me snarled and recoiled, the other half clung desperately too her.....this was going to be a long day.
AZRAEL
"The Avenging Angel" 