azrael
Azrael could have asked a dozen more questions, but it would do no good. The mortals had no answers – only more questions. He knew better to question the will of the gods, and yet the stargazer has to wonder. A quiet sort of peace falls between the two men as they stand beside the reflecting water, shining as black as the darkness above it, dotted with mirrored stardust. Time and magic were a lethal combination, he supposed. And the ire of the gods was always a volatile thing too, at least in his experience. It was strange when they decided to meddle in the lives of their followers. It was a reminder, in a way, that all of them were little more than pawns in Tempus’ end game.
As Tenebrae mentions the bones beneath their feet, Azrael shudders at the thought. He glances down toward his star-glow hooves, as if he could see far beneath the ground on which he stood. “Were you there?” His voice is a quiet whisper, almost lost in the silent expanse around them, as he wonders what it must have been like to see the island rise unexpectedly from the sea. Surely it would have been an unforgettable event to behold. For his part, Azrael wasn’t sorry to have missed it.
He’d had his own taste of the cruelty of the gods, when dragonfire had destroyed the shed-star temples, forcing them to flee their mountaintop home for earthbound dwelling. Although this had been foretold by the priestesses and the cards, the timing had not been a thing which could be predicted. He hadn’t been ready… none of them had been. To see their heavens thick with smoke, to see their temples rotting as fire devoured them to the core… it was enough to steal their breath away. They had come with hope for brighter tomorrows, but also with tears and trepidation.
Although Azrael had been in the Night Court for some time now, it still didn’t feel like home. He hadn’t found his way; he hadn’t found his place. But at least he’d found the stars once more, peeking through the cloud cover to caress the night skies. Caligo’s blessing was on Denocte – he could feel her presence in every shadow, which gave him pause and peace. Though the People had dispersed to the four winds, he had stayed… he had stayed to serve Caligo and her Night.
Perhaps this is why he feels so at ease in the starfield, even knowing the island was not what it seemed. If it was an illusion, it was a good one – a believable representation of the night he so loved. “Even knowing it’s not real, it feels real.” His voice is quiet and almost revenant, as Azrael wonders if he betrayed Caligo by even thinking fondly of this place. However, once the island changed again and the stars blinked out for something else, he could not know how the new island would move his spirit. Perhaps then, his wonder is not misplaced. Perhaps he is allowed to dream.
@Tenebrae
