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.”
The Regent has been checking the alleyways for any sign of Maeve, although nearly any movement has her wincing. Attempting to fight Thana really fucked her up and she's pissed at herself for it. Bram is also trying to recover after being nearly torn apart by a pack of demon hounds. He hasn't said anything to her since they escaped, but she knows he's not happy with her. He's loyal to a fault. Honestly, for Maeve, they would both do it ten times over.
Morrighan is lucky they got out alive and Thana didn't chase after them. Although, if the unicorn had Maeve all along, she's screwed. She would likely need a whole army to try and take the mare down with all her demons. So she's been trying the best she can to check all the nooks and crannies of the market streets. Maeve could be hiding anywhere, especially with how dark it is. Bram is doing his best to check for scent trails, but he's coming up empty.
They are rounding a corner when she suddenly runs into another. It makes her stagger and put too much weight on her wounded leg. It sets her fire magic off and a blaze appears at her feet for a moment. "Ugh, watch it!" she snaps, trying her best not to scream out in pain from her leg. Beside her, she can hear Bram laughing so she gives him a warning look.
"You're never alone here," Morrighan grumbles in response to his question. It's kind of a stupid one because anyone who actually thinks this place is cool and worth visiting is insane. "It's a shithole and you should run while you still can." As much as she wants to hide how battered and bruised she is, it'll probably be more obvious now that the light is hitting her. Still, she continues to bite her tongue in front of him rather than wince.
She doesn't know this man too well, but she recognizes him from Denocte's streets too. It's unfortunate for him that he's not very familiar with his own Court's regime. "Yeah, I'm your Regent, Morrighan," she says in a bitter tone. Clearly he hasn't got a clue of anything. "Why go through the trouble of coming here?" Even she doesn't know why she suggested it to Maeve in the first place. Even if it had been like the last time Morrighan was here, she should've known the island couldn't be trusted. Its magic is ancient, wicked and ever-changing. It may look beautiful and intriguing one moment, but then in the blink of an eye, it's a monster looking for its next victim.
Azrael was secretly relieved to have found another in the desolate emptiness of the ghost city. Though her words bite through the silence with a taste of bitterness to them, the shed-star doesn’t let them offend. Instead, he simply nods in agreement, for the island had never been a place where he’d found himself alone before. Even when it had worn a different shade of magic or a different face, someone had found him here. He’d met Tenebrae on the island, seen Elena here… the magic just had an inextricable way of drawing strangers together.
He watches the way she shifts tenderly from foot to foot, noting the edge to her voice which seemed more than just simple annoyance. Pain. He could recognize the hint of pain in her, his turquoise gaze softening as it rests on her with a carefully banked concern. “You’re hurt… please… let me help you.” Without waiting for a response, the male ducked into a nearby shop, one which he’d passed by earlier, gathering some dried bee balm from an overflowing basket near the counter and making his way back to the mare and her wolf companion, stopping before them to grind it into a thick paste.
“May I?” He gestures toward an open wound on her leg, “It will help to stave off infection.” As he waits for her response, the shed-star continues. “While I’m not a healer, the People ensured that all youth were taught the basics of healing, so we could look out for one another.” It was a pleasant memory, one which drew a smile as he remembered, Azrael keeping his demeanor warm and calm despite the mare’s obvious agitation.
“I’m sorry we haven’t met, I haven’t always been the most social… you can find me in the mountains on most nights, for it is in the mountains I feel the closest to Caligo and her stars.” He gives no further explanation, for the dreamwalker had made an attempt to seek the sovereign and contribute more to their court, but his attempt to gain an audience with her had been fruitless. And so, he had stayed on the fringes of their society, looking in but never really feeling a place of belonging. There was time for this to change though, and Azrael (ever the optimist) seemed determined to try and find his role within the Court, despite appearances to the contrary.
Why going through the trouble of coming here? It was a question he had asked himself throughout his wandering in the magic-filled place, one which Azrael could not provide a simple answer for. So though it sounded foolish, he admitted the truth to Morrighan with an almost sheepish smile. “I needed to clear my head… somewhere to be alone with my thoughts, and to remember that the world is bigger than my own troubles. What better place than somewhere untamed, touched by a magic which cannot be explained.”
It's often that Morrighan will be approached by someone offering to help with whatever it is, but she always says no. She's too stubborn to let them do things for her and she would rather figure it out on her own. Today, however, she realizes that she doesn't have much of a choice. Her healing knowledge is limited and it seems this man knows a little more about what to do when he comes back with stuff for a salve.
"Sure, go ahead," she says reluctantly, gritting her teeth. She kneels down and winces while trying to lay in a position that will make it easier for Azrael to get to the wound. At least it seems she lucked out running into this man, even if she's still annoyed they literally ran into each other.
As he apologizes for not meeting, he mentions spending more time on the mountains. The way he says it reminds her of Tenebrae's close faith to Caligo, but she isn't sure if they live up there. That sounds more like… "Are you a Shed Star?" she asks. It would make more sense if he spends more time in the wilds of Denocte versus the castle or streets. The Regent hasn't met many Shed Stars yet and certainly didn't spend much time speaking with them so far.
Azrael's reasoning for being here seems foolish. There are many other places one could get a good perspective that didn't involve being surrounded by a ghost town or dead things. He'd be lucky if he hasn't come across any monsters or corpses yet or heard the screaming of who-knows-what in the distance. "Well you definitely picked the wrong place," she grumbles, looking around at the abandoned storefronts. There had been an eerie silence for some time, but Morrighan swears she can hear the screeching again. This place just gives her the creeps.
"No one should ever come here unless they have a death wish. I would leave right away if I could, but my daughter is missing. And now this shit," she explains and gestures to her injured leg. Now that she takes a moment to look at it, it looks way worse than she originally thought. The blood looks blacker than it should and it's certainly the worst pain she's ever experienced. Hopefully whatever Azrael has put together will at least work for now until she can get back to Denocte. Of course, finding Maeve is the first priority.
"We were separated and now I have to find her," she says with a sigh and just feels more angry at herself. This injury is holding her back from making more progress in her search and it's entirely her fault. She had been so blinded by her fury at Thana that she didn't consider any of the consequences. Well, now she has to deal with them whether she likes it or not.
Bram must sense her frustration as he hobbles over to her side and nuzzles her cheek. Hopefully this will all be over for them soon.
When she begrudgingly agrees to let him bandage her wounds, Azrael does so with practiced efficiency and does not waste any time. He applies the salve on her leg, doing his best to be gentle, before wrapping it tightly with a clean piece of gauze from his satchel. “That should help.” He quickly inspects his work, tucking the remainder of the salve into a small vial and passing it to the mare. “You can use the rest of it when you change the bandage… it should stave off infection, but try to keep the wound dry.”
Are you a shed star? she asks, and he nods with an edge of curiosity. “I am… have you met many shed stars?” For all of them were different, Azrael far kinder than most. There were those who were far more pious than he, too proud to leave their mountain home. Others he saw as swindlers – merchants and entertainers, more interested in a bit of coin than in serving their goddess. But then there are the star-gazers like himself, always looking skyward for their prayers and answers. In the stars, he would always find his comfort and his way. In the stars, he found his home.
She suggests that he should not wander here, and a part of him agrees… for the island had been far from kind to him. It had shown him many a fateful thing, had twisted his understanding of reality through its magic. But there is a curiosity in him which cannot be quelled, and Azrael had come to find the island an interesting sort of place. It was a world which could not be understood, and this wonder was enough to counterweigh the risk. Even the island’s appearance now, he knew, was more than just a place of desolation. There had to be more, behind the emptiness and still. He yearned to know what secrets Tempus had hidden in this realm.
“Your daughter is missing?” The shed-star’s focus shifts back to the now, seeing a hint of worry in the haughty mare’s eyes. It is enough to pique his curiosity, and to stir in him memories of his own child… for if Elli was missing, Azrael would move heaven and earth to find her. A mother’s love was even stronger, he mused. “Let me help…”
He does not suggest that her wounds would slow her down, but instead he agrees to help in the search as a fellow parent, one who understood the fear in the mother’s eyes. “What makes you think she would come to a place like this?”
She hates being wounded. She hates showing any kind of vulnerability, no matter how much. As Azrael applies the salve, the contact makes her wince but Morrighan tries not to make it audible. It's even harder as he applies pressure with the bandage, so she bites her tongue so hard it might bleed. Thankfully, as moments pass, it seems whatever had been in the salve is already starting to work. "Thank you," she says quietly, feeling her tongue start to throb. She takes the vial and keeps it near her. Hopefully she won't need more of it because going through this once with someone is enough.
As Morr had suspected, he is a Shed Star. He doesn't seem as primal as some of the stories made them out to be and he certainly doesn't look like one from the market tents. Perhaps there's more to them than she thought. "Sort of, but mostly the ones that give out tarot readings in the markets," she replies and wonders what made him wander so far from his kind.
But of course, there are more important matters at hand than where Azrael came from. She could always dig into that more later with her usual interrogating. "Yes… she is," she tells him, her voice getting quiet again. The pain in her chest is back as she thinks about Maeve being lost in this place. There are horrors here one could only fabricate in their nightmares.
And it's all Morrighan's fault.
She is too wrapped up in her guilt and fury that she almost misses Azrael's offer for help. Others have already tried to no avail. "We were separated. I… brought her here thinking it looked different. It was less sinister before, but we were tricked." Embers spark at the ground then, but she is too weak to coax them into real flames.
"That's why no one should ever come here," she adds before standing back up. There isn't as much pain in her leg now, but she can still feel it shooting upwards. She staggers a bit while she tries to get her balance and Bram quickly moves over to lean against her side.
"Do you remember ever seeing a child pass through here?" It's a question that feels overused, but part of her is still even a little hopeful. At least this man seems more trustworthy compared to others she's met here.
He recognizes the hesitancy in her, to trust and to rely on another. So the shed-star does not press her. Instead, he watches her companion as he carefully and dutifully takes his place beside Morrighan, aiding her in ways that Azrael could not. Perhaps in time, she would learn to trust him… for Azrael had already resolved himself to take a more active role in Denocte, to make his mark on the place for the better.
When she speaks of the shed-stars, he simply nods… for the card readers tended to be what most thought of, when they spoke of the People. “There are certainly those who fancy themselves seers, reading the tarot for those who are willing to pay to hear their fortunes. For myself, I have never put much stock in fortunetelling. Personally, I find it almost predatory, twisting the words to match what narratives a stranger might want to hear.” Perhaps they gave false hope, he mused, to those who desperately sought answers. As a party trick, it was fine… but too many had absolute faith in the practice, something the pragmatist in him had a hard time understanding.
For himself, Azrael preferred the stars. They were predictable, and yet ever changing at the same time. He could count the stars as they rose to the skies, follow their trails as they turned to morning. With the seasons they would come and go, just as their kingdoms would change, but unlike the strife of man – the skies would never fall. Even when his world had burned and those within it perished, the stars rose the next day as they had for thousands of years before.
The conversation shifts back to the matter at hand, and contemplation washes over him as he thinks back to the surroundings. When he’d first arrived, Azrael had been struck by the emptiness of this place, drawn in by the magic and tuning the rest out. As his mind wanders back over his wandering, he remembers aloud. “I do remember seeing someone – perhaps it was your daughter… but before I could get a closer look, she was gone. If it helps, she was heading toward the castle….”
He hoped it was enough, recognizing that she wanted to be left to her wandering and appreciated the solitude. “I hope you find her… if you wish my assistance, I will see you back in Denocte… and take care of that leg.” He offers a genuine smile, bowing his head before turning toward the Night Court, leaving the mare to her search as he makes his way home, away from the strange magic of this place.
Although Azrael didn't seem to delve too much into his own role among the Shed stars, Morrighan finds his opinion of the tarot readers a bit surprising. She had never paid too much mind to them and had even gotten a reading herself when she first arrived here in Novus. It didn't do much to answer all the questions swarming in her head at the time, so she's not sure she could relate. At the very least, she'd likely be wary of letting Maeve give in to her curiosity of the cards. The girl wouldn't hesitate to receive a reading and is too impressionable to tell the difference between truth and lies. She would have to keep this in mind.
At the least, this isn't what matters now. When the man says that he does think he's seen a girl around, Morrighan perks up immediately and forgets she's even badly wounded. All that she wants to do now is run in the direction that Azrael tells her so that she can finally find Maeve and go home. It feels so relieving to finally have a lead, she may even feel like crying.
"Thank you, Azrael," she says to him before he leaves. For once, there is a smile upon her lips and it feels almost unusual for someone such as herself. "We'll see you back home." And they would with Maeve right next to them. She has to be confident of that.
Her eyes are bright with hope again as she looks out towards the castle. With Bram by her side, they head off in that direction, limping along the way, but doing their best to keep a fast pace. They can't afford to waste anymore time.
