azrael
Azrael swore he wouldn’t return to this place. There were just too many memories – memories of the night he’d met Tenebrae (the creature who would come to haunt his dreams), memories of reuniting with Elena in the hall of mirrors. Admissions of guilt. Forgiveness given. It was a place of magic and of intrigue, a place from which he couldn’t seem to stay away. For just as he knew he should avoid the island, it is the magic which draws him back, the thirst for change and for things he cannot understand. With his life in chaos, it seemed that the confusion of the island made him feel strangely at peace. If anything, it reminded him that life was unpredictable, that his own circumstances were far from unique in this crazy world.
And so he walks along the magic-forged streets, clearing his mind and focusing on the stillness around him. The village was eerily quiet, as if its inhabitants had simply up and vanished, reminding him of another village… his home… far in the mountains where it kissed the sky. There had been life in his home once too, vibrant and thriving as the People worshipped Caligo’s stars. But just as civilization here seemed to have fallen, his own homeland had been left for ruin, structures lasting far longer than fragile lives, burned to the ground.
He shivered, remembering. Though it was spring, there was a bite to the air, whether magic or a chill, which left him somewhat unsettled and always on guard. Past empty shop and empty shop he walked, daring to peek into one or two, marveling at the way they seemed to paint a picture of bustling life despite their emptiness. Goods lay scattered on check-out counters, baskets left unattended in the aisles, still brimming with selections. Bread still sat in windows, baked and unspoiled (surely touched by the magic). Fruit still weighed heavily in the trees.
But not even a bird dared to sing in this strange and empty place, each step leading him further from reality as he weaved through empty streets.
Azrael couldn’t be certain how long he’d wandered through the sun-soaked town – it could have been minutes or hours. Time seemed to lose all affects on the island, holding little consequence to Tempus’ ire. But the more he wandered, the only thing he felt certain of is that he roamed this world alone.
Or did he?
With a gasp, he turns toward motion at his left, shrewd eyes peeking into a shadowed alley and catching a brief glimpse of white and gold. With intrigue in his chest, he follows, rounding the corner and nearly colliding with Morrighan. For a moment, his breath simply catches in his throat, before he clears it and addresses her quizzically.
“I thought I was alone… what do you think of this place?” His voice is an incredulous murmur, as he slowly takes in her form, eyes landing on her agate pendant for a moment before finding her brown and blue gaze. “You’re from Denocte.” It was more a statement than a question. “I think I’ve seen you there, from a distance… I am Azrael.”
@Morrighan
