afflicted

36: Azriel, present day

A/N: This one fucking hurt me and I definitely cried writing it, so I hope it gives you all the emotions you've been needing. You guys seriously make writing so fun. Thank you for your support. 

Stakeouts were never particularly Azriel's thing. Of course, he had the patience when he needed to, but he didn't like to sit still for that long alone with his thoughts. He very much liked to be busy and keep his mind occupied and present. Which was why he untied the rope in his hand for what was probably the thousandth time, the coarse fibers shredding at his hands by this point. Cassian eyed him warily from his periphery, but Azriel intentionally kept his eyes and attention forward.

He didn't have the words he needed and couldn't seem to conjure them up either. Everything just felt so... fucked. He didn't know how to feel normal again, because normal no longer existed. He didn't know how to talk to Cassian anymore, which was something he had never anticipated. Every conversation between them now felt stiff. The two of them had finally snapped under the pressure, the weight of it all finally crashing down as they hit a burn out point.

It was like Azriel was physically present, but mentally had been gone for a while. Cassian didn't know how to approach him or ask if he was okay. Azriel's shoulders were so tense that sometimes he'd shake from the strain of his muscles. He had nightmares most nights, screaming in his sleep. Cassian hadn't told him and was honestly unsure if he knew.

He said her name a lot in his sleep, too, which made Cassian flinch every time. No one knew how to process any of it. How do you move on from losing everything when you have nothing to go back to? Nothing to start fresh for?

It was some kind of emotional limbo, the two of them trapped somewhere between alive and dead, sane and lost. Azriel toed that line a bit more fiercely than Cassian dared. Cass had enough keeping him occupied with the constant cleaning and re-wrapping of the wounds in his back where his wings once were. Az had helped him change the bandages a few times, but Cassian eventually stopped letting him help, saying he could manage just fine on his own. Azriel hadn't pushed, knowing that Cassian needed something- anything- that felt normal. Him bandaging his own wounds and refusing healers was pretty typical behavior for him. At least he'd done a good enough job for Azriel to not have to worry.

So right now, the two of them huddled behind a line of thick green foliage. Azriel had found a small enough hole to not be noticed, but to still have a clear line of view to where Maeve's soldiers patrolled. They were on day two of their stakeout and Azriel had yet to find a fault in their coverage. There were so many of them who never seemed to need rest. Azriel had broken Callie out of Maeve's dungeons once, and he'd find a way to do it again. If he could just figure this out.

He pulled the rope even harder through his palm as he re-tied it, making the skin there raw and angry. The pain centered him, made his head clearer. Even if Cassian did look ready to step in every time he noticed. One look from Azriel always seemed to change his mind and encourage him to mind his own business.

Maeve's army had somehow grown even still. The place was fucking swarming with collared creatures and the air was thick with the smell of death. The trees had already begun to lose their color as Maeve continued to drain Prythian of its magic. As if they needed another reason to feel bleak and depressed.

"What if she's not there?" Cassian mused. Azriel ignored him, keeping his eyes focused on the one guard in particular who seemed to be the leader. He was massive and covered in ornate armor that protected his chest from the exact place Azriel wanted to sink his dagger.

A twig snapped behind them and Azriel was on immediate high alert, remaining crouched as he silently twisted to look behind him. Azriel couldn't see anything, and for the millionth time, he called out to his shadows, but none came. Maybe none would ever come again. Perhaps he'd become so much of a shell that they'd decided to claim a new master, or just escape their old one.