Does it please you? | [Azrael, Zelda]
The night air was icy against Azrael’s cheeks as he strode towards Hyrule Castle, his cape billowing behind him where the breeze kicked it up. There was no room for grief in his heart; there was only a powerful rage that threatened to consume him. Azrael had grown accustomed to his lower than average body temperature, to an existence spent seeking heat from others. He was used to the cold and welcomed it as a friend.
He burned now with a rage he had not felt in years, and suddenly he swore there was steam rising from his hands and swirling into oblivion in the night wind.
The guards posted by the doors were off duty tonight, likely placed within the ballroom itself while the castle remained open to the public. Azrael stormed in, his footsteps echoing on the marble tiles and reverberating through the cold stone walls of the entranceway. Slipping his mask from his pocket, he applied the cool metal to his face and adhered it as Haeyin had showed him.
Silence permeated by the distant din of laughter and music, Azrael followed to noises towards the ballroom, where the doors were opened wide to reveal the grand spectacle ahead. The light made him wince, but he kept his pace as he strode smoothly towards the masquerade.
A sea of faces before his eyes, and yet Azrael was able to pinpoint exactly the person he needed to see immediately. Her curls shone like white gold under the chandelier light, her ornate gown resembling a swan. How fitting, he thought to himself as he forged a path through the crowd over to where she stood, dancing idly with a red-faced young man.
“Sorry lad,” Azrael snarled, grasping the youth’s elbow and tugging him away from the woman he was eyeing. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut in.” If the young man had been about to protest, the sudden sight of Azrael’s gaze caused him to shrink back into the crowd. Not missing a beat, Azrael’s hands moved to replace the princess’ dance partner, supporting her waist and grasping her hand - his fingers squeezing hers none too gently.
“Should I introduce myself, or will you spare me the pleasantries this time around?” he drawled, his tone acidic and dangerously quiet as he leaned to whisper in Zelda’s ear. The heady scent of perfume almost completely covered the light aroma of pear blossoms she usually had, but from this distance Azrael could still smell it. Instead of calming him however, it only added to his ire.
