How have you been, Asmodeus? It's been... a long time.
- @azrael-asks
*Asmo stops in his tracks as he hears a familiar voice call out to him, it's a voice he hasn't heard in a long time. He abandons the demon's he was chatting with. Annoyed he clicks his tongue before turning around and seeing them*
AZREAL! I wish I could say it's good to see you again but even after all these years it's way to soon.
I see you still have that hideous scar Lucifer gave you, does it still hurt? *Asmo took a sadistic pleasure in taunting the angel*
It has been a while, Beelzebub. How have you been? - @azrael-asks
|| @azrael-asks ||
*whatever peace and tranquility he had while eating alone by the gardens is completely shattered by the sound of the archangel’s voice. His hands curled up into fists, crushing the rest of the Devildom cupcake that he procured from one of his favorite restaurants. The icing oozed in between his fingers but it’s like he had gone numb, and his focus is on one angel entirely. One angel that he wanted so very much to pummel to the ground*
You.
*his voice came out as more of a snarl than his normal conversational voice but he paid it no mind, his lips curled back into a hositle snarl. Amethyst hues practically glowing and narrowed into slits, he willed himself to stay still, despite the overwhelming urge to just turn into his demon form and launch an attack filled with rage*
Azrael knocked on the study door. "Lucifer. I heard shouting, is everything alright in there?"
|| @azrael-asks ||
White wings twitched and puffed up when the small angel heard his name called. Tentatively, Lucifer crawled towards the door, trying to find out just who it was before he dared to answer. However, as he drew close he could sense the grace of a sibling.
“U-Um, h-hello?” Spoke the fledgling through the door. “B-Brother, w-where a-am I? T-This d-doesn’t look like th-the p-palace...” Lucifer didn’t wish to touch a single thing of this dwelling, all he could feel surrounding him was pure evil, a place without light or their father. Terrifying.
A slice of Celestial cinnamon apple pie sits neatly on a plate in the center of Satan's room
"Happy birthday, Satan."
- A
"(P.S. Luke made the pie, I thought you would like some.)"
Returning from the library to escape his brothers’ shenanigans, a scent hit his nostrils on opening the door. Apple pie? He approached the plate set atop a short stack of books, eyeing the note beside. Picking it up, he read it has another faint scent permeated his nostrils; rosemary.
“Azrael?” He thought aloud, surprised they offered a gift despite their last encounter.
Lying didn’t seem like the angel’s forte, and if Luke made the pie... of course he accepted it. And would enjoy it with a book good. Apple pie, at least of the Devildom variety, was his favourite dessert. He’d have to see if the Celestial realm’s take held a candle to it.
|| Giveaway fic for @noosey-woosey, ft. their OC Azrael meeting Satan for the first time! This was honestly so much fun to write. Azrael is one my favorite OCs and I can only hope I did them with enough justice. Enjoy! ||
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Azrael was justice. They were loyalty. And, looking upon the small figure hidden behind Lucifer, they were also a failure. Their eyes were glued on the shock of blond hair as it bobbed behind the demon, each new flash of bright color sending another shock down their spine. Too short, they tried to tell themselves, and a millennia too young, but the image of long blond hair and a gentle smile came all too readily to his mind despite it.
"Who is that, that stands behind you?" Azrael asked, and Lucifer's already stiff shoulders stiffened further.
"None of your concern."
Their eyes narrowed, and the grip on their sword hilt tightened. Lucifer's voice had always been deep, a soothing baritone that encouraged every ear to bask in its sound, but now…It had twisted. The fangs that grew now from this mouth sharpened his tone and the infernal magic that filled his core, now, no longer asked but demanded to be heard. To be listened to. To be followed.
Azrael would not be demanded of. They would not be compelled.
They pursed their lips and drew in a slow breath through their nose.
"I will ask once more. Whom have you brought with you?" Michael had spoken of only Lucifer's presence at this meeting and none other. The situation was already unstable, already tense, and Azrael, acting as their in between, would not see it grow worse. It was merciful of Michael to extend a hand to their fallen, even if it was merely to ask how they'd adapted to the Devildom. It was a long and difficult fall after an already long and difficult battle, made even longer and even more difficult by the circumstances that proceeded it. It need not continue. The consequences had come, the penance delivered, but Lucifer and his Pride would not put down his hatchet.
But Lucifer had changed much in that time, they supposed. The Devildom must have made quick work of any fleeting sin for Lucifer to leave behind his trust and compassion in favor of such spite. Such deceit.
Unless.
Azrael shook off their misgivings with a roll of their shoulders.
Demons lied, and Lucifer was one of them now. Azrael would not allow him to corrupt this act of charity. Not with lies or tricks, and most certainly not with illusions.
"You will tell me before Michael arrives. I will not allow this meeting otherwise."
The roll of Lucifer's ruby eyes were as rough as the gemstones for which they matched. The glare was pointed, the motion jagged, and it stabbed at the frustration quickly building within Azrael's stomach. They could feel it leak into their veins, heavy and hot, and not at all soothed by the uncertainly that followed after. Lucifer's silence spoke volumes. Lucifer would not say. Lucier could not say.
And so they came up with an answer themselves.
Azrael looked once more upon the small one's bright hair, so unlike Lucifer's and yet so familiar, and the deep green of their eyes, so filled with curiosity, and the round point of their chin and they decided they did not like the result. Once more a vision of compassion, of hope, filled their vision before it went red. Like blood, of which had stained their hands when it dripped from their sword. Like anger, at themself for the deeds done and undone, and at Father for -
No. Father had trusted them with the task of judgement, of execution. It was their fault to not see it done. But it had been. Azrael had seen her fall. Azrael had not seen her land but she had fallen and that had to have been enough.
If they had failed...
"Lucifer, I swear, you will tell me!" The growl rose, unbidden, in their throat but Azrael did not try to stop it from curling around their words just as they did not stop their fingers from curling ever tighter around the hilt of his sword.
"Or what? You'll attempt to strike me again?"
Lucifer's words, finally uttered, were strained and Azrael's hand shook. They were right. They were right. There had been some mistake. Their mistake. It would be corrected now, and it would not happen again.
"No, not you," they said, and the warning went nearly unheard but not understood when Azrael tore the blade free from its sheathe. Lucifer's brow twitched at the light that poured from the naked steel and the hands he crossed over his chest fell to guide the young one further behind him. His body would offer little resistance, but the sentiment was, at least, noble. Futile, but noble. They had to give Lucifer that. He was dishonorable, a stain on the Celestial Realm, but he protected his family. It was a shame how it all ended up. It was a shame how it was continuing to end.
The magic from his sword buzzed in their hand and made the hair on their arm stand on end. Their teeth rattled from the force of it, and Lucifer's own power made their head ring as they pushed against it. Pressure built in their ears as the infernal energy that coiled under Lucifer's skin seeped through his glamour. A shadow of wings was cast behind the demon as Azrael lifted the sword. A tail, long and thin, lashed besides it and Azrael's eyes widened.
Had Lilith -
"Put that away, Brother!"
The pressure lifted only to be replaced by another, stronger, and the rush of air pushed Azrael's arm back down to their side, the sword digging itself into the earth by his feet. The light dimmed in comparison to the one that poured from Michael's descending shape. Lucifer recoiled from it, briefly, before recovering himself. Azrael could not strike at him but they could find some satisfaction at his discomfort. Their eyes jumped to the young one - to the demon - behind him. They had wrapped their arms tight around Lucifer's leg and pressed their face behind his knee to shield themselves from the angel's light. That sight, too, comforted them.
Another angel would not behave so in the presence of another. Another angel would have fallen to their own knees, not find security in a demon's shadow.
"I merely wished to know Lucifer's intentions of bringing such a stranger," Azrael said. They picked up his sword, the metal heavy now, and slid it back into its holdings. "I was not made of aware of their coming and would stand not for any demon's treachery."
"Your loyalty is appreciated," Michael said, and they could not help but to swell under his praise. "But I was the one to ask Lucifer to bring him."
Azrael worked to keep their face impassive, despite the relief and frustration that battled within them.
"Him?" Not her. A mistake, a new one, an assumption on his part and not one of failure. They had not failed to carry out his orders. Father had not failed to make Lucifer suffer for his uprising.
"Yes. I wished to look upon Lucifer's newest brother, Satan."
Michael sat in his large office in the castle working on some paperwork, however he really really waiting on Azrael, who he had called to his office earlier. He needed to talk to them for a while now, but he had something a bit better in store for them than just a talking to.
Whenever Azrael would show up, Michael would put his pen down and lean back in his chair. “I bet you’re wondering why I call you in here today, yes?”
I wanted to ask before I sent anything. Do you have a form we should fill out whenever we have characters for you to roleplay with? Or do you just accept anything sent your way? @azrael-asks
At the moment, the blog isn’t all that big yet, so I’m accepting basically all interactions! And my messages are always open to send in information about characters
Homework that Satan had, surprisingly, neglected, was written in a hurry. His penmanship was rushed, the letters slanted and bleeding into each other, and it was noticed too late that the words he’d written were not the answers he’d found.
There are many sorts of love, I’ve been told. Romantic, platonic, familial. Did you know demons love? Strongly, horribly, and deeply, though I think I can say for the angels. You loved something so much you fought for it. Do you still fight for it, I wonder?
Familial love. It’s one hard pressed to care about sometimes but even harder to forget is there. I suppose it’s one thing we have in common.
