A Court of Fate and Failure | Azriel

15: Pain and Past

✰

✩          ★

Twigs crackled lightly underfoot under the cover of trees familiar and as aged as her, perhaps even older. Shadows in every step, silence heavy on the soul broken purposely by the one who knew these lands best. Could feel its rivers in her veins and every step upon the earth on her skin. Like ghost spiders meandering along on a self-made path, a sensation she found she did not dislike. Spiders were a measly thing to fear, something she'd managed to get over hundreds of years prior. So she embraced their presence like one did the brushing of leaves and dapples of sun.

But in that forest where it was so silent and she so loud, at least for a fae, she did not have much time to waste. Indeed, in a clearing up ahead awaited her victim, her prey. Standing much too close to the barrier of Velaris, a broad-shouldered male paced a section of its powerful magic. 

Snarls echoed back to her, frustration echoing in her chest with each strong beat of his heart in their chests. Surprise too, a tendril of fear she made sure to stoke, to make sure it remained, sparking to new life with every touch of his hand on the border. The border he should not have known of. 

The border that protected a sliver of good in these twisted lands.

Naoise paused for the briefest of moments. Before her, among fallen leaves and a blanket of snow, lay her objective to get this going. A resounding snap echoed through the trees and this time as the male began to turn on high alert, she did not falter. Naoise moved swift and silent as the shadows that begged to coat the earth within her siphon. In the failing light, she saw when his eyes fell upon her and saw a dark Illyrian female striding forth with her siphons shining in reckoning. And she grasped onto that fear with her whole being when it flared, stoking it deeper and deeper. Not stopping when she felt the rot creeping almost immediately. Holding nothing back, not like she had for Mox. 

This was someone attempting to harm Velaris and all who called it home. This was her enemy. Her basest instincts snarled with her; this was her prey.

She took great delight in watching him crumble where he stood.

Until she realized they were not alone, and it was not all of her doing.

The first sign was the flicker of darkness over his shoulder, then the bonds of shadows that wrapped around him. The second, the ghost sensation of someone stepping forward just outside of the trees surrounding the clearing and the male. Someone as in him. Azriel. Death and darkness incarnate, he stood with blades hanging by his sides, Illyrian steel shining in the burning sky and wings framed in a manner just as flattering.

When he paused from his cool approach on their prey and glanced over his shoulder at her with the sharpest of smirks, Naoise swallowed heavily and after just a moment's pause, relented with the inclination of her head. Acknowledging who won this day's task. Then she stepped forward until they stood as one once more to face the intruder. Naoise was well-aware of the distance between their wings. If they were to brush... she needed to stay strong. For him and for them both. 

Already, wind swirled in her gut with a thousand fluttering leaves caught in its current.

Naoise turned just enough to meet his eyes of imploring hazel, shining just as bright as the edge of the horizon surrounding them. "After," she said.

Azriel nodded, a hint of that smirk still on his face, and then they descended.

Naoise forced a scornful chuckle once they were done with him, body crumpled and cooling in the snow. Wings of crimson spread through the snow. "See what I mean?"