azrael
By all accounts, it had been a pleasant day. The birds were singing, the flowers were bright. Elena was busy, but Azrael was doing fine with entertaining himself, watching children run around with cries of glee as they danced and tossed blossoms in their wake. All around, there were pleasantries being exchanged and friendships being formed in this time of peace. And pride swelled in his chest as he watched Elena as she flurried about, greeting the guests and leading groups of them from place to place while sharing stories of her home.
Meet me at the tower, I’ll join you in a bit… He’d planted a kiss against her brow, ensuring that Elliana was busy with the other children and safe, before turning and leaving her to the guests. Up, up, up he had climbed, until he stood in the tallest peak of the citadel, staring down at the festival-goers and taking in the full beauty of Elena’s planting. She had truly outdone herself, he mused with a smile, listening to the appreciation of those who gazed upon the beauty of the flowers, making notes to share their stories with her later.
Azrael is lost in the pleasantries, making small talk and introducing himself to those around him. They talked of mundane things – of spring, music, flowers. But then, there is a voice behind him which sends chills down his spine. Anger is swift, brash words biting through his mind. But Azrael is anything if not composed. He takes a steadying breath, turning to gaze upon Elena’s lover, a thousand accusations on his tongue. For a moment, he is silent, sizing up the man he had once called brother as they’d gazed upon the night. Perhaps in a different lifetime, under different circumstances, they might have been close – for the similarities between the stallions were as striking as their differences. Where Azrael was the starlight and Tenebrae the shadows, both were vassals of Caligo. Both called her kingdom their home. But the two could not be more conflicted.
I might have guessed you would be here. Azrael’s ears lace back against his skull, even as he grits his teeth to project a level and civil tone. “I must admit to be surprised to see you…” His voice is cold and even, not welcoming or inviting, but quietly disapproving. “Why are you here, Tenebrae?”
While it was true that Azrael held no claim over who came to the festival, the very existence of the fallen monk was enough to raise his hackles. Jealousy crawled through him, wondering what would happen if Elena knew… would she turn to him, or stand in shock? Determined for her not to find out, he resolved to stall Tenebrae from finding his beloved, or even more than Elena, from finding the child he now saw as his own. For blood was not thicker than loyalty now, and Tenebrae’s very presence threatened all he held dear, and the fragile hope they’d begun to spin together.
@Tenebrae
