azrael
When she talks of her family, Azrael can feel the warmth and the love which emanated from her memories. Though her parents were gone, Elena could quite clearly recall them, even with the haze of grief of loss. Through her words, he can almost picture the girl of sunshine beside her mother, scrying for Venus with hope in her wide blue eyes. “Sometimes…” he admitted to her question, “Sometimes I wonder what they were like. I wonder if they saw me and knew me as theirs – if they see me still… For all I know, they may well be alive and among us. It’s a strange thing, not knowing…”
They walk alone in comfortable silence for a time, with only the stars and Azrael’s light to guide their way. There is a relaxed peace between them which is effortless and light, and the boy of stardust and light is lost to her charm. He watches her as she climbs adeptly skyward, ears flicking as they stop and she begins to count the stars with him.
“Your crown is here, nestled between the Serpent and the Herdsman.” he gestures to a small arc of seven stars in the northern sky. “It is said that crown was given to Ariadne for her marriage to Dionysus, and that he placed it in the heavens so all the world would know of their union.” He smiles fondly at the thought – for there could be no mark of love more powerful than painting it across the canvas of the night sky for all to see. “There are seven stars, the brightest one being Alphecca.” Although the conversation could be almost clinical, there is a fondness as Azrael speaks of his stars – as if they were almost friends instead of distant astronomical objects. He had spent a lifetime memorizing their trails and names, listening to the myths spun by priestesses around the burning fire.
“There are eighty-eight star families in total, but not all are here during the summer months. The sky is ever changing with the seasons.” It was a beautiful and poetic thing – a perfect metaphor for life itself. For the sun would always rise to a new day, the world always turning despite what befell the men who walked upon it. Through the chaos and the uncertainty, Azrael could always find the stars, and count them to soothe his weariness.
“It is good,” he decides, “to want for something more. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mystery of things.” He sighs, turning into the warmth of her touch, meeting it with one of his own, feather-light against her nape. “Take the stars for instance – time moves the world forward, stealing away each fragile life in due time - and yet the same stars which shined a thousand years ago still watch the world today. What tales they could tell... what things they must have seen.” Azrael’s voice is a reverent whisper, as he delights in the thought of it. “The People say that when you die, your spirit becomes a star. I quite like the idea.”
And so, there is a note of hope for Elena and all which she had lost. Perhaps she would find her answers and her solace in the darkness she so feared. Then, she need not fear the night, but instead, embrace its wonder.
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