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Searching For Answers || Azazel and Charles
Charles backed away when Azazel shook his head, leaning up against the counter. With a push of his cane and some careful maneuvering, he was able to sit on the counter across from Azazel, mulling over his words as he thought.
"Well…I guess we can start with the logistics of it all," Charles said. "I mean, obviously you got out. If there’s a way to bridge the gap between these two dimensions as it were, why can’t you get the rest of them out like yourself? Is there some sort of weird…ritual thing we need to be doing?"
He shrugged. “I just thought maybe fighting the Cheyarafim was a more direct way and I’m not really sure how this whole dimension business works. Not my forte, I suppose.”
"The only bridge between here and their cage is my blood. Those who share it- my sons- are connected to it, and can be utilized into opening a portal, but at the expense of all that makes them who they are. It is not a route currently worth the price of trying." Said Azazel as he started his work, threading needles through his skin, back and forth and back again without a blink, and cutting the strings each time with a sharp snap of his teeth once pulled tight.
Closing the wounds. Open gashes bound shut by sterile string. If only all injuries were so easy to repair.
"The Cheyarafim are not a foe I can face on my own. We lost to them once already and I've no intention of being killed before my people are freed... they would slaughter me and remove the threat long before they heard our words."
Send me a ✿ and my muse will react to your muse putting a flower in their hair
"Would it do me any good to ask what you want, or should I find out on my own?"
"You may find much more than you bargained for, should you go rooting about in my head." Mused Azazel, somewhat casually, "I haven't been sent by anyone.. I've come for a purely selfish reason. Have you come across a teleporter named Kurt?"
Headcannon; Language Quirk
Azazel is pretty good at English by now. Even though he's a demon, Russian was his first human language and so he's more used to it than most others. That said, sometimes things like English idioms still get mixed up to him.
Azazel's verbals quirk is that he sometimes uses malaphors, where he blends two or more sayings together such as; “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” or "you are meowing up the wrong belfry".
A majority of the time, he'll say it without noticing unless someone corrects him.
People often think of fire as a destructive force, and it can be. But fire also rejuvenates the land. Many grasses have evolved root systems that survive fires so they can be renewed, and some trees and other plants have seeds that only germinate after a fire has come through. Plus fires clean out old dead wood and other debris, making it easier for fresh plant life to grow.
↖This person still think's Darwin's death was bullshit.
s ᴇ ʙ ᴀ s ᴛ ɪ ᴀ ɴ · s ʜ ᴀ ᴡ ↱ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴛᴏᴍ. ↵
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Charles blinked and put down his helmet to turn to see a face he hadn’t seen in a very long time. ”Azazel.. I believe, correct?”
"I'm flattered." Assured the demon with a dip of his head, and indeed seemed relatively pleased that his name had not slipped the other man's mind, even after so much time had passed. Then again, he supposed that his was a rather unique face, "You've aged."
Drunk Off Her Ass || Open
Raven blinked as he walked toward the kitchen, obviously expecting her to follow. “Wait, why would I call you?” she questioned, brow furrowed. “I thought you were dead….and why would I tell you to bring me to Russia?
The smaller mutant shook her head, regretting it almost immediately as her head began to pound once more. Had she been so drunk as to call a dead man? God, had she said something? “Just….tell me what happened. Gimme the short version, the important stuff.”
"Fortunately for you, the short version is the only one I know. It is as I said; you called my phone and asked me to come and get you... by the time I arrived, you were already on the ground and apparently fairly content to stay there, so I brought you here, where sleeping would be safer for you." Said Azazel as he meandered into the kitchen, followed by a trail of yawning, stretching cats.. most of whom he ignored in favor of obtaining a glass of water for his companion.
"As to why you called... you tell me."
"He was helping me with a matter involving my Clan, nothing more. In truth, I have extremely little interest in the fight between humans and mutants.. my ambitions are my own. Erik and I had a mutually beneficial camaraderie, neither of us have illusions as to that." Azazel shrugged, linking his long fingers together in his lap as he crossed one lag over the other, "if he requires my skills again, I could probably be persuaded to continue our contract of sorts, but it is the same for Xavier. Should he come to me at some point asking to make a deal, I would not refuse. That is the glory of being a neutral party."
Avery nodded, taking a second to absorb all the information the man was giving her. He seemed so open about his affairs with other people, which made him seem like an unwanted partner. Or at least that is what she thought. Avery sighed and rested her hand against her cheek. “Well, that is enlightening.” She admitted, though she didn’t know what skills the man had. “What skills do you have? Y’know about mine.” Avery asked curiously.
"I have several." Shrugged Azazel, who's loyalty typically only spanned the breadth of his contract with a person. There were plenty of things, a thousand secrets, that he would never reveal to this girl... things he'd not even whisper to the darkness as he slept.. things that would be buried so deeply within himself, they would solidify to a burning weight at the bottom of his heart and still never be released. Something as simple as the terms of his servitude was hardly of consequence, though.
"Pick a place. Think of a place anywhere in the world and tell me where."
"I do know you’re here.”
"Good, that saves me the trouble."
"Then, who are you?" Wanda lets out a sigh of relief, still a bit frightened by his resemblance to the ruler of Hell.
This girl was off limits. He knew her well enough.. knew her name and what she was- and more importantly, he knew who she was related to.
Off limits.
"They call me Azazel."
I WILL
SUFFER
SO YOU WON’T.
”Cute, Azazel. But don’t change the subject. You need to figure out what this so when Magneto comes back, I have more than, ‘Azazel had a bad feeling.’”
"'Cute' has always been and ever will be the last word to describe me." Maybe that's why he'd been thrown off at first. Being addressed as though it were a normal occurrence had, for a moment, sent him into a wave of confusion. Now his bearings were back and suspicion ignited, "If you are with Magneto then he has not spoken of you to me, and I find that most odd. I shall ask again; who are you?"
”That doesn’t..”Let it go, Jakob. ”Whatever. Then maybe you should work on pinpointing it. ‘A feeling’ does us no good when there’s nothing attached to it.”
"...wait."
It occurred to him then, in that moment, that he actually had no idea who he was talking to. Perhaps that was the peril of too many teleportations in rapid succession, one lost track of whom they were speaking with.
"Who are you?"