azrael
Nothing could sour Azrael’s mood as he stood in the dappled autumn sunlight with Elena, wholly engaged in his company as he steals easy glances at her over the table. He watches as she carefully turns the wood over and over in her grasp, concentrating as her delicate touch brushes lovingly over her work. Not for the first time, she catches his glance and he chuckles at her teasing before stepping away to gather their drinks with a sense of relaxation washing over him. It was the perfect day, he decided, passing the cider and waiting patiently for her to finish carving.
He did not expect her confession - would not have even dreamed it to be possible, even for one who dreamed as vividly as he.
No, Azrael cannot know the admission which burned like sin within Elena, but he can sense that something is wrong the moment he returns, the moment she cannot meet his gaze. Something twists deep within him, the feeling unfamiliar. Confusion, concern, and comfort meet as he steps closer to Elena, nudging at her chin to raise her gaze while quietly searching her face for the source. He sees the pain in her eyes, his own clouding with worry as he whispers only to her, the rest of the festival seeming to fade away around them.
“What’s wrong, Elena.”
Though there is concern in his voice, there is also a gentle encouragement - a reminder that he was here for whatever came next. But nothing could prepare him for her apologies, tumbling like waves as she struggled to find the words, tying his own emotions into knots as he waited helplessly beside her.
I don’t deserve to have you standing there…
It made no sense… none of the sudden change in her made sense.
Azrael. His own voice sounded a thousand miles away. I’m pregnant.
The words which came next were a blur, his world reeling as he struggled to make sense of her news, his own mind going numb as reality hit him like a ton of bricks. In that moment, a thousand thoughts rushed through him. Who? When? How long? How could he not have known?
It was true that the shed-star held no claim on the golden mare… but someone did, clearly. Tenebrae. His mind blanked for only a moment before he remembers the monk in the starfield… the way he’d spoken of loyalty to Caligo before all others. And then there is something else which clouds Azrael’s thoughts - something darker - far more than simple jealousy. Betrayal.
In taking from Azrael the illusion of love he’d begun to spin around Elena, Tenebrae had also betrayed his oath. It was an unspeakable thing, he decided, to turn against one’s own god and commitment. A stern frown creased his lips as he fought back words which he knew to be only driven by anger. For Azrael is not one to be rash or haughty. Instead, it is clear that he struggles for composure as he stands quietly before Elena, his eyes - once warm - now cold with hurt.
“A man has a right to know, Elena… this is not something you should keep from him.” Though he struggles to keep the hurt from his voice, Azrael cannot. His words are edged with pain as he turns away from her outstretched reach, unable to offer her the warmth he felt within his heart.
“I… I thought we had a connection - something wonderful between us.” The quiet of his voice seemed as loud as the crashing sea - for the weight of his words spoke louder than his poised demeanor ever could. “I cared for you, Elena.” No, that wasn’t right… for cared indicated a thing of the past. “I care for you, that is - I wanted this… all of this. All of you.” He trails off, his gaze falling on her carving as her words offer little more than emptiness to him.
“I thought, that night - today even, for that matter - that you wanted this too.” Azrael’s voice is barely a whisper then, as his eyes meet hers and hold - her betrayal unmistakable with the bite of jealousy that licks in his next words. “But now I see I wasn’t all you wanted… that what we had wasn’t enough?”
Elena had chosen what she wanted… and she had chosen another man. Azrael knew he should walk away, hold what shreds of dignity he could, lick his wounds and move on… but a part of him held back, lost in the swimming tears of her eyes, lost in the fantasy he’d built in his dreams. And so he simply stands before her, defeated and lost, as unable to forgive as he was to walk away.
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