𝙀𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩

𝘼 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩.

[angelicend]

     𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚,

                                                          𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙖 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙩.

          An  independent,  private,  and  selective  writing  blog  for  the  Archangel  Azrael.  This  portrayal  is  not  exclusively  but  rather  largely  based  within  the  universe  of  H.azbin  Hotel.  This  account  will  contain  dark  themes  ahead,  so  follow  at  your  own  comfort.

AJ. She/her. 26. promo. rules & info down below.

Quick thing about me: My name is AJ! I’m 26, she/her, and I love to write. I love having creative conversations, analyzing characters/plots, and literally chatting about anything. My favorite genre is horror! Love to read horror books, and watch horror movies when I can!

1. Let’s be respectful. I ask you treat me, and any of my mutuals with respect. If there is an issue with me or anything please come talk with me. I can’t read your mind, and I know you can’t read mine. With that being said, the only drama that is allowed on my blog is within threads. 

2. Triggers. There may be some triggering content on here. If you are heavily triggered by religious imagery, then I ask you don’t follow this blog. I will try and tag certain things, but I am only human.

3. Original characters. I love them. Normally many have about pages, or small summaries of them, but just make sure it’s there for me to access. You are more than welcome to also message me about your baby as well! I would love to listen! 

4. Out of character chatter. I love to chat/plot. Don’t be afraid to message me!!!! We can just chat about our day or about our muses. 

5. Interaction. I do prefer to plot in some way. I do like a good meme, but sometimes those can be too bland for me. It seems like I answer the same way which is what gets really boring for me. I lose interest in the thread. That is why I do prefer to plot a little. 

6. Verses/Fandoms. I am open to pretty much anything. I am up to writing my take within any and all fandoms. Even if I might not know the fandom, I'm sure I can easily make something work. In general, if I follow your blog I wanna write with you. 

7. Shipping. Not sure how I will go about this, but in general it may be difficult with him. Either way, I do love a good ship! Don’t hesitate to contact me if you have shipping in mind. We can talk about it (note: this isn’t an automatic ‘yes’. I’d like to see if our muses click in that way)

8. Angels/Archangels. Azrael views his fellow angels and archangels as siblings despite them not actually being related. Since they work closely with goals similar in the end, he finds them as a big family (Despite feeling like the black sheep). I also have Michael over at divinescale

9. Icons. I'm currently making some icons, but I am totally chill with being iconless. Don't feel like you HAVE to use icons. Probably most of the time I won't myself.

About: Azrael is an archangel, the angel of death. He's very busy, blessed with a job that requires much detail and focus. He sees to that souls are taken from their vessels, and guided to their final resting place: Heaven or Hell. Which means he does encounter Lucifer quite a bit.

Azrael is well acquainted with the structure of Heaven (of course) and Hell. When people pass a second time in their resting place, he takes that soul to Purgatory where their soul can be judged for a second time. Then, he will escort them (or with one of his very trusted companions) to where they belong.

He has his mighty golden scythe that is concealed as a pen that is located in his breast pocket or his book. The mentioned book is on him at all times. It is a list of every soul that has passed, and ones that are soon to come to their final rest. This book his magically updated by The Creator himself. Most of the time a Cherub will let him know when this happens.

His form can shift depending on what soul he is taking. He can be a charming beautiful man for those who are to ascend or a hooded figure who fall. He is also known for his "kiss of death". He kisses the forehead to every soul before he reaps it from their vessel. It's a blessing of sorts.

Azrael only has one pair of black wings that are rather large by default. He can change the size if he needs.

[deactivated-865753653476798]

me

Meshes of the Afternoon (1943)

[angelicend]

The two places Azrael spends most of his time at are earth and hell. Many souls are lost in these two places, and he’s there to guide them to their destination.

[angelicend]

MUSE AESTHETICS: HORROR EDITION.

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

CLASSIC.

black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-Atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the American South. the American Northeast. England. analog cameras.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw marks. bite marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the American pacific northwest. the American Midwest. hiking. backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. Western Europe. eastern Europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. books. stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at unseen things. iconoclasm. black ooze. old photographs. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. passing shadows. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. improvised weapons. Halloween. secrets. revelations. cut wires. character masks. scrunchies. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. California. the American Midwest. ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms. empty rooms. killer in plain sight. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots. a noise in the distance.

tagged by: @brokendreamscreation

[diabolico87]

The Plague. Miguel Opazo.

[illustratus]

The Angel of Death by Evelyn De Morgan

[dollartreelobotomy]

[putrefacionss]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLOYALTY, OFFERED LIKE A WOUND DISGUISED AS PRAISE;ㅤdevotion likened to a collar still warm from restraint. Lute allows the insult pass unchallenged, ( a curl to the lip )ㅤabsorbed with the silent gravity of sanctum stoneㅤ[ the way old cathedrals take in mildew beneath gold leaf; rot swallowed whole beneath the illusion of permanence, ]ㅤLet him have his mischief,ㅤshe thinks bitterly; Azrael is what death becomes when it starts to enjoy itself —ㅤslow, indulgent, condescending…ㅤHands still folded behind her back, ( the fragment of her that once knelt at Eden’s threshold — that ancient shard stirs now, lurching forward with something merciless urgency, something shaped like hunger disguised as need )ㅤpale gaze narrows in focus,ㅤvoice is low, almost reverent, as if tasting the syllables for poison,ㅤ“I didn’t claim to know everything; I was not made to know much… I was made to be summoned & obeyed…”ㅤ—a beat,ㅤ“Perhaps that is the difference between us, isn’t it? You’re the angel of death;ㅤI am what gets sent when Heaven stops asking questions. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ a dog indeed… ]ㅤMerely one step is all it takes to make the distance shrink like muscle around a blade; the air around them hardens as if the world itself is bracing for what might come next…ㅤ“You say you know where he is,”ㅤshe no longer speaks language; she speaks verdict,ㅤ“That I cannot go there,”ㅤher words are measured, etched into the moment like the edges of a seal,ㅤ“So tell me —ㅤwhat do you think I am now, if not proof that where I belong has never mattered?”ㅤgolden orbs shrink to slits, feline, sacrificial,ㅤ“Gates don’t keep me & purpose doesn’t bind me.ㅤIf he passed through, then so will I —ㅤeven if I have to crawl on the ceiling of the next world with my teeth in the throat of your architecture. I would burn for him,”ㅤspoken with the calm of preordainment,ㅤ“I don’t need coordinates anymore; I only needed confirmation,”ㅤ& then!ㅤher smile is surgical; clean, exact, opened without permission,ㅤ“You brought him up; you have said too much. That means he’s traceable…”ㅤShe looks at the book, the wretched digits around it,ㅤ“You’re holding his name like it’s still yours to close; but death doesn’t own him. Not yet; not if I get there first…”ㅤalmost softly, with the quiet of blood warming inside a reliquary:ㅤfinality,ㅤ“I asked nicely. I said I’d knock; but you seem to have mistaken that for mercy,”ㅤa psalm turned inside out…

[angelicend]

                  HIS   SMILE   WAS   STILL   PLANTED   ON   HIS   LIPS   AS   SHE   spoke.   Death   takes   its   time.   Death   was   on   no   side.   Good   or   bad.   Death   came   when   it   was   time,   and   Azrael   sought   to   bring   the   souls   to   where   they   were   to   reside   for   eternity.   Unless,   of   course,   death   found   them   again   in   the   afterlife.   Azrael   would   then   see   to   it   that   they   are   guided   again,   “   Well,   forgive   me   for   thinking   that   you   would   want   something   more   than   that.   ”   He   shrugged   his   shoulders.   In   Azrael’s   opinion,   Sera   lost   her   strength.   She   used   to   be   stronger   than   this—   confident.   Now?   Well,   here   The   Exorcists   exist.   

               “   IS   THAT   ALL   YOU   WANT?   IS   THAT   YOUR   HEAVEN?   ”   THERE   was   a   look   of   boredom   that   crossed   Azrael’s   expression,   “   Do   you   just   want   to   be   at   his   heel?   To   only   be   his   purpose?   ”   A   sigh   through   his   lips   as   slender   digits   flipped   his   book open.   He   thumbed   the   pages   until   he   got   to   the   one   he   wanted.   He   hummed   in   thought,   “   I   don’t   foresee   The   Exterminations   continuing   any   time   soon,   and   maybe   not   ever   again   with   what   the   princess   has   discovered,   ”   dark   eyes   looked   back   to   Lute,   “   I   hold   his   name   and   many   more.   That's   my   job.   Their   souls   are   kept   safe,   and   guided   to   where   they   need   to   be.   So,   yes,   I   know   where   he   is.   ”   He   closed   the   book,   and   placed   it   back   in   his   suit   pocket.   

               AZRAEL   DOES   NOT   MOVE.   HE   COULD   SENSE   THE   ITCH   TO   lunge   forward.   Her   drive   to   find   him   outweighed   any   sense   in   her.   It   was   quite   amusing   in   a   way,   “   You   can’t   go   to   him.   Not   now,   ”   his   brows   pulled   together,   “   You   need   to   learn   patience.   There   are   some   things   you   can   not   help   him   with   or   protect   him   from.   He   has   to   do   this   on   his   own,   ”   his   essence   coiled   back,   burning   at   the   center,   and   ready   to   spring   forth   if   need   be,   “   You   do   not   frighten   me,   young   one.   You   are   ready   for   war,   but   the   battle   you   want   to   start   will   be   one   that   you   will   not   come   back   from,   ”   his   voice   did   not   rise   or   fall,   but   stayed   its   usual   monotone,   “   I   do   not   say   this   as   a   threat.   My   words   are   meant   to   remind   you   of   your   purpose—   your   only   purpose   if   you   so   wish   it   to   be,   ”   Azrael’s   dark   pools   rolled   in   their   sockets,   “   As   I   said,   if   you   start   this   battle,   you   will   not   come   back.   Meaning…   you   won’t   be   able   to   help   him   ever   again.   ”

[diabolico87]

[llbertas]

Truly, they weren't all that bothered being at the receiving end of Azrael's words, as harsh as they sounded. Ser—Zadkiel never held any of them against him, especially since they were aware of the immense burden that shackled itself to his shoulders to have to be the one to escort mortal lives to their judgment day in and day out. It was why they always strove to be the one to make things a little easier, a little lighter for him however possible.

❝Mmhmm! I think it has become even more beautiful since the last time you saw it, so you are in for a treat, Azrael!❞ Their own smile went from ear to ear so as to keep the kindling positivity between them and for the two of them to temporarily forget the weight of their respective duties for a little while. ❝Wonderful, then let us go there. That, and I know that the children have been wondering where Uncle Azzy went. I keep telling them that you are busy, but you know them by now—they are always eager to see you.❞

A hand was outstretched, ready to take the both of them to Italy as promised.

[angelicend]

               A   HEAVY   BURDEN   TO   WATCH   SOULS   DIE   IN   HORRIFIC   WAYS   at   times.   The   worst   ones   had   to   be   the   youthful   and   the   ones   that   begged   him   to   leave.   No   one   really   wanted   to   see   death.   They   were   afraid   of   what   they   didn’t   know.   He   couldn’t   blame   them,   but   how   it   could   weigh   him   down.   Azrael   knew   the   smartest   thing   to   do   was   to   take   a   step   back   from   time   to   time.   However,   death   was   death.   He   collected   souls.   There   wasn’t   much   time   for   himself.   Not   that   he   was   complaining.   It   was   an   important   job,   and   he   wouldn’t   want   anyone   else   to   be   burdened   with   it.   

                  TO   HEAR   THAT   THE   CHILDREN   MISSED   HIM   PLACED   A   WARM   spot   in   his   chest.   His   smile   turned   more   genuine   as   he   looked   to   their   outstretched   hand,   “   I   always   do   look   forward   to   seeing   them.   I   should   have   brought   some   gifts   or   treats.   Perhaps   next   time—   or   I   suppose   we   can   find   something   on   our   little   stroll,   ”   the   heaviness   on   his   shoulders   already   lightened   as   he   thought,   “   They   deserve   it,   ”   Azrael   took   their   hand,   “   Plus   I   have   to   keep   up   the   favorite   uncle   status,   don’t   I?   ”

[lovecasualty]

[putrefacionss]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫;ㅤwhere did he go? [ a pang to her ribs, she does not sit still & yet, she doesn’t wince ]ㅤLute’s silence is not stoic;ㅤwings do not twitch & that’s only because they are drawn in, coiled tightly behind her ( a blade waiting to be sheathed, )ㅤThe pen clicks throb against her temple;ㅤshe loathes the sound,ㅤ“He’s dead,”ㅤ[ a weight settles on her rib ] she repeats, as if the words must be spoken through her own mouth for the sky, for her,ㅤto understand it;ㅤ“Yes. Of course he is. I knew that,”ㅤorbs harden;ㅤgold dimmed to dull amber,ㅤ“But I didn’t come here for death;ㅤI came here for what’s after,”ㅤpause & then a tilt of her head ( —like a creature trying to decode something primitive; curiosity.ㅤShe is Eve all over again, in that blasted dream… )ㅤ“You’re the angel of endings, Azrael,”ㅤshe says slowly, carefully,ㅤ“...but I must wonder if you even recognize what kind of ending this is. You collect the moment after life, not the shape of it,”ㅤhands stay folded behind her back;ㅤLute will not give him the satisfaction of strain, of thinly-veiled hysteria,ㅤ“If you know where he went,”ㅤshe says at last,ㅤ[ yes; keep speaking like you are in control, soldier, ]ㅤ“...then give me the coordinates. Don’t philosophize; don’t ask if I want comfort,”ㅤtone only sharpens, all through grit teeth,ㅤ“I didn’t come here for peace; I came here for placement.ㅤSo when I follow, I know which gates to break,”ㅤAmber brighten to an almost white-gold,ㅤ& for a moment, Lute doesn’t look like a fallen soldier or a wayward blade:ㅤshe looks like holy design;ㅤintention sharpened to a fault.ㅤA divine mechanism waiting for coordinates; white-hot gaze is not begging, it is calibrating & measuring Azrael like a lock she’s learning how to pick,ㅤ“Tell me where he is,”ㅤquiet as scripture carved into stone,ㅤ“& I promise I’ll knock… once,”

[angelicend]

               DOES   SHE   EVEN   KNOW   HERSELF?   THE   QUESTION   RANG   IN   HIS   mind   as   he   gazed   at   her.   What   other   game   could   he   play?   No,   no   that   would   be   too   cruel.   He   wasn’t   one   of   the   dark   beings   that   festered   the   crust   below   the   living.   Even   still   his   mind   had   thoughts   such   as   those,   but   maybe   it   was   because   of   his   duty.   Azrael   hated   the   realization   that   he   needed   to   borrow   another   ear   to   allow   himself   some   relief   of   the   weights   he   carried.

            THE   ANGEL   HUMMED   THOUGHTFULLY   AS   HE   PLACED   HIS   PEN   IN   his   suit’s   jacket,   “   How   interesting   it   is   that   you   seem   to   know   about   everything   and   everyone   else…   ”   a   brow   arched,   an   implication   wrapped   around   his   words,   “   But   I   know   where   I   guided   his   soul   again.   I   know   where   he   is   right   now   and   what   he’s   doing.   ”   Azrael   sighed   heavily.   He   was   in   no   rush.   No   one   rushed   death.   It   came   and   went   when   it   was   time,   and   was   right   now   time?   Oh,   he   wasn’t   so   sure   yet.  

                     A   SMILE   GRACED   HIS   LIPS   THAT   GAVE   HIM   A   MORE   ghostly   look,   however   Azrael’s   gaze   brightened   with   life,   “   You   are   quite   the   loyal   dog   to   him.   Excuse   my   wording   if   that   isn’t   to   your   liking,   I   mean   no   offense   by   it,   ”   a   twinkle   of   mischief   in   his   eyes,   “   But   unfortunately…   ”   His   other   hand   gripped   his   black   book,   reassuring   himself   that   it   was   still   there,   “   Where   he   went   is   somewhere   you   can’t   go.   ”

[llbertas]

Of course, even though they joked about it, it didn't erase anything regarding the book that Azrael carried. It was why they understood that the job that they had was nothing compared to their own brother's. The strength behind their smile diminished slightly, yet it wasn't wiped off of their features completely. ❝No, of course I know that, so you do not need to apologize, really.❞ They would have said that they were the one who ought to apologize, but what would that accomplish? Their amethyst eyes softened in understanding as they moved closer to him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. ❝Is it anything I can help out with, even if it is for a short while? We can always go to the church with those children I take care of or just take a walk on Italy's coastline, if you would like.❞

[angelicend]

               AZRAEL   KNEW   WHAT   HE   NEEDED,   BUT   HE   WAS   NEVER   GOOD   at   it.   He   liked   to   hide   it   all   under   dark   humor,   and   sometimes   it   would   come   out   in   an   aggressive   way.   He   didn’t   mean   to   do   it.   He   cared   about   every   life   and   soul.   Yes,   even   the   bad   ones.   However,   the   souls   down   in   Hell   had   a   limit   to   his   sympathy.   In   the   end,   he   knew   he   should   speak   to   someone   about   the   weight   he   carried   on   his   shoulders.   Azrael   saw   death   almost   everyday.   He   held   hands   with   the   dying,   cooed   soft   children   into   their   final   rest,   and   that   could   be   too   much   for   even   an   angel.   

               HIS   HEAD   TILTED   AT   THE   MENTION   OF   A   WALK.   WALKS   were   meant   to   help,   weren’t   they?   Maybe   he   needed   that,   “   The   coastline,   you   said?   ”   Azrael’s   smile   returned   slightly,   “   I   think   I   can   do   with   some   different   scenery,   ”   eyes   drifted   aimlessly   for   a   moment,   “   And   maybe   visit   those   children   after.   I   think   seeing   some   life   would   be   a   great   change.   ”   There   was   life   after   death,   sure,   but   he   needed   to   see   someone   living—   living   in   the   moment.   

[theserpentspsalm]

[honeyrosepetals]

lost to time

[angelicend]

          𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴; 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵,                               𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵.

independent. private. selective. 21+ written by aj.

[putrefacionss]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲, 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠ㅤ[ like a sword left plunged into stone, not for lack of strength to move it, but because nothing deserving has ever tried, ]ㅤLute doesn’t react to the invitation in Azrael’s tilt, doesn’t soften at the raised brow, for that would mean giving him something… but, the question is there, though ( buried, sharp, sick with weight )ㅤShe’s spent centuries not asking it; out of pride, fear or perhaps something worse,ㅤ[ the possibility that she already knows, ]ㅤBut now, with the angel of death standing before her, poised like he’s expecting confession instead of confrontation,ㅤthe silence merely tightens;ㅤher throat doesn’t move when she finally speaks, but her voice is clear all the same,ㅤ“Tell me what you think I wish to hear…”ㅤthe words aren’t defiance; they’re permissionㅤ[ a plea, perhaps; a prayer ]ㅤbecause if she asks directly, it becomes realㅤ& if he says it aloud, she can’t bury it again.ㅤSo instead, Lute waits; silent, tense, unreadable as alwaysㅤ( —except in the way her hand curls, slow & precise, over the hilt at her hip,ㅤnot a threat, but a tether...ㅤjust in case the answer ruins her, because it probably will )

[angelicend]

               HE   WONDERED   IF   HE   SHOULD   BE   KIND   AND   TELL   HER   exactly   what   she   wanted   to   hear.   Or,   did   he   want   to   drag   it   out   and   force   her   to   ask.   It   seemed   cruel,   but   to   him   it   was   his   form   of   humor.   Dark   and   dry,   and   really   who   could   blame   him?   With   as   long   as   he   had   lived,   and   the   job   he   was   blessed   to   do,   what   kind   of   humor   was   left   for   him?   His   work   was   not   easy.   His   work   wasn’t   for   the   faint   of   heart.   

               AZRAEL   SHIFTED.   HIS   FINGERS   FIDGETED   WITH   HIS   PEN   TO   WHICH   he   ended   up   just   clicking   the   end   of   it.   Click.   Click.   Click.   Click.   Click.   A   haunting   sound,   the   continued   sound   of   time,   “   Tell   you   what   I   think   you   wish   to   hear?   ”   He   tilted   his   head,   “   I   am   no   mind   reader.   What   you   wish   to   hear   can   be   many   things.   How   would   I   know   which   it   is?   ”   Click.   Click.   Click.   Click.   Cruel   that   he   played   with   her   like   this,   but   it   was   honesty   at   best.

               FINALLY   HE   STOPPED   CLICKING   HIS   PEN.   EYES   DARK   POOLS   OF   someone   who   saw   too   many   lives   lost   in   many   ways   imaginable,   “   He’s   dead.   Though   I’m   sure   you   know   that.   Most   souls   in   Heaven   and   Hell   are,   ”   Azrael   shrugged   his   shoulders,   “   You   wish   to   know   his   fate?   Where   did   he   go?   Heaven   again?   Or   Hell?   ”