azrael
He had dreamed of her – of course he had. How could Azrael not dream of the girl who was the light to his darkness, the sun to his moon. A part of him had tried not to, for Elena wasn’t his to dream for… but he longed for her, as much as the desert longed for rain. Still, Azrael was a man of principle and a man who did not give into his baser instincts. Instead, he simply fantasized in his dreams, blind to the other who stole her away, touching her in all the ways he wished to, as she returned his touch and promises of love.
Naïve to her romance, the magician simply continued through his dreaming days and scrying nights, until her message reached him on the wings of a dove, bringing a smile to his lips. It was the herald of a romantic, and though he appreciated the sentiment, Azrael returned a more touching envoy to the golden mare – his owl, now well enough to fly from her healing touch.
Noctua tapped at the window, preening in the sunlight as Elena's window swung open and she extended a leg. The owl stands patiently and still as Elena unties Azrael’s scroll, turquoise eyes settling on the golden mare's face as it breaks into a quiet smile. She hoots quietly and fluffs her feathers, accepting a gentle pet from the healer before returning to her master once more.
And so the man of stars and night departed from Denocte, winding his way northward to the gardens of Delumine. His step is hurried, if only due to eagerness in seeing Elena once more, his heart fluttering at the thought of her, even as he pushes his nerves to settle. As Azrael nears the Dawn Court, music finds him first, followed by the fall-scents of mulled spices and flaked pastries. There are musicians and dancers, artisans and merchants. He weaves his way through their wares, stopping only once to trade a bit of coin for a filigree sunburst bauble which reminded him of Elena, before making his way to the garden.
Alone, he stands for a moment, cyan eyes searching the crowd for her face. And as she steps through the clearing, a feeling of peace washes over him, a warm smile edging at his lips as he stepped forward to meet her embrace. “I’ve missed you.” he whispers, lips hovering at her temple before they deftly plait his sunshine-charm into her mane.
“Have you learned anything new from the stars or dreams since I last saw you?” She asks, “I have heard that is where all our secrets hide.”
If only she knew – how he dreamed of her, how he ached for her. The secret pining his dreams alone would know.
“Dreams can be tricky…” he trails off, remembering a too-vivid dream of Elena herself. She screamed in pain, and he had rushed to stand by her side, but it was as if Azrael ran through water – as if he could never catch her in time. Yet here she was, bright and vibrant – far from a creature who suffered. “I find that dreams can hold some truth and some fiction, that they distort reality or prey on our wishes or fears.” His words were as much to reassure himself as her, banishing away the memory of her cries.
“But,” he counters, “Would you believe me if I told you I dreamt of you – like this? With the sun upon you like a glowing halo and flowers at your feet?” For he had, only she looked even more beautiful in person. The romantic in him allowed him to turn into her touch, his glow falling warmly over her. Drawing in her scent, he files the memory away, observing the garden with an appreciative sigh.
“I can’t admit to know the names of flowers or plants, but Delumine’s garden is certainly something to behold.” He motions for her to follow, stepping reluctantly away from her touch and toward the overflowing table of crafting materials. There were many to choose from – rock and wood, colored beads and feathers, flowers and leaves. Unsure of where to begin, he looks across at those who gathered in the garden, simply watching and making note of it all before picking up a charcoal pencil and beginning to sketch the faces of strangers around the table.
@
