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Author Topic: Don't Bother, Angel | Azrael  (Read 390 times)

* Julias Blackwood

    (01/03/2017 at 21:27)
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Final Month  1949

after midnight


The pull from his sister was imminent, nonsurprising from his end. It seemed as if just when their bond was at its strongest, finally connected once more, something had found a way to weasel itself between them, creating a wedge. Circe was the first to build a wall between the connection of their souls, and now, he wasn't entirely sure if he regretted finding their last bit of family or not.

He admit, a part of this was indeed his fault. For the moment his gaze fell upon Jophiel Mavis, his soul yearned for what she would never give, what he could never have: innocence. Her tranquil beauty was that of peace and grace, like leaves falling from the ever changing trees surrounding them. She was an untouchable in every way imaginable, and thus began his fascination. For what could a saint want with an unspeakable such as he?

No, she would never.

But of Ananiel Valencia? A dark, brewing storm that stole his fascination from the former's gentle hands. Darkened features held sinister motives, those of which, Julias wanted to indulge, to partake in whatever diabolical scheme that her twistedly beautiful mind could stir up. The very thought of her mistaken intentions made his heart pound with a beat so fierce only the devil himself could understand.

Alas, where did that leave Azrael? For she knew exactly his thoughts, plain on his features for her to see. He never stopped to think what these feelings could mean to her. Just how it drove them farther apart than he had intended, or desired. The feeling of her slipping away filled him with so much hurt, Julias felt as if he could burst.

Until he watched his other half pressing her lips against another. Dropping into the pit of his stomach, the heart that once raced, slowed to a still. What would mother and father think if they were alive? How could she kiss him?! A lowly snake with a reputation that caused a stench to the purest of bloods. Afterall, Xerxes couldn't even keep his clutches on a Hufflepuff. What made him worthy enough for a Blackwood?

Deep into the forest, he furthered, reaching the spot he waited for his twin on their first night reunited. The anticipation was more than he could bear, knee bouncing rapidly, fingers furious with the rope they held.

Did she not think? Did his beloved Death not care? Was he not but a pawn in this elaborate game of chess?

"Azrael," her name felt cold, and almost foreign to his lips.

Jaenel Blackwood

    (01/04/2017 at 01:02)

He had dragged her to this forsaken summer camp, and for what? To burden her with a younger sister who was unworthy of the family name? To open his arms and welcome the tiny girl into the fold? That was the original intention, anyways. To extend the roots of the family tree, to allow the branches to leaf out further. Jaenel was unimpressed, and had spent most of the summer avoiding Circe. Sister had Mother’s gifts, and Jaenel found herself barely able to quell her own jealousy of it. Being half a person was at times a downfall, and it enraged her.

Or was that all that had been on his mind when he had asked her to attend the place with him? Since her arrival, he had done little more than chase after waif-like creatures. First a flower-petaled face that seemed so easy to uproot. Then a devilish schemer, who Jaenel was certain had intentions to embroil her brother in some dastardly plot. Abbadon had claimed that he wanted them to be reunited, to be a family again, to close the distance that had separated them for so long.

Two halves of a whole. The sky and the earth. The sun and the moon. The ebb and the flow of a riptide.

Jaenel had seen no evidence of his desire to spend time with her, and though it stung, she found other ways to occupy her time. If he were to make himself busy besmirching the Blackwood name, so be it. None of those objects of his desire could hold, she knew. Eventually brother would ascend back up to the stairs to his throne. And Jaenel would be there, waiting.

Waiting for him to come to his senses. To remember his lineage.

Besides, she had found other ways to occupy her time. Zak Weiland, a sweet boy who paid her enough attention to keep her happy. Reggie Graham, more of a challenge. And Xerxes Gerdher, the most rewarding of them all. The best of the games she had played all summer, a give and take, a competition. Someone who understood the rules, and engaged in battle with strategies to match her own.

As she approached the log where she and Abbadon had first met that summer, she could sense his tempestuous thoughts.  Fighting to keep a smirk from her face, she approached her mirror image, her equal and opposite and same. Finally, after an entire summer, the boy was paying attention. Her words were quiet, reaching across the closing distance to brother’s ears.

“Abbadon, don’t be cross. It’s unbecoming.”

* Julias Blackwood

    (01/04/2017 at 06:43)
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The feeling in the pit of his stomach was something he hadn't quite experienced before. It was vulnerability of sorts, leaving himself to the mercy of his mirror self. It was not unlike him to bare it all for her, letting her inside his mind to find the reasoning behind his thoughts. But this, this was entirely different altogether.

She was taking much more than she deserved.

“Abbadon, don’t be cross. It’s unbecoming.”

"Is it, Sister?"

The bitterness in his tone was full, taunting the meaning behind her words. His icy blue gaze shifted from the rope to his twin, studying the bemusement on her face, resentment stewing within himself. His fingers worked even more furiously, eyes narrowing upon her. He found a coolness staring back him, unphased by the internal tantrum he was throwing, unknowingly feeding into the game she played.

"And how should I feel, Azrael? Whilst you snog every boy in sight?"

He scoffed, gaze diverting to the ground. In a moment of silence, the anger boiled inside him, replacing the moment of vulnerability. It was then that a realization had hit him, something that didn't cross his mind, for whatever reason he would never understand.

"Why must you do these things to taunt me? Was I not giving you what you so desired?"

In hindsight, Julias knew he hadn't been paying her enough attention, not like he should've. They needed more time to bend their connection, find the same page once more. And he didn't do that, not like he should've. It took more than just a few weeks to align their souls as one, and he now understood why she sought it elsewhere.

It had been his fault.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you away," his tone was much softer, quieter even, realizing his own mistake.

The rope had been shoved in his pocket, now standing from the fallen tree trunk. Taking a step towards her, his hand outstretched, yearning for her affection. He wanted to speak his apology on a deeper level, needing her to know how sorry he was for not seeing what his actions had done to their bond.
« Last Edit: 01/04/2017 at 06:45 by Julias Blackwood »

Jaenel Blackwood

    (01/04/2017 at 13:30)


At their initial reunion, Abbadon had tipped the scales in his favor. He had asked for concessions, and she had willingly given them to appease the boy. Be kind to Sister, and she would reap the rewards. But what had been her prize for allowing Brother to exert his authority? A summer spent alone to her own devices, finding ways to while the hours down until she could leave.

Her twin’s voice was like frost, raising goosebumps on her skin despite the warmth of the summer night. In her eyes, a light danced, a feeling of satisfaction that she could not hide from he who felt everything she did.

It had been the long game, played deftly and under cover. And now, finally, after entire summer of setting the board, the final move had been made. The power was back in her hands. The queen would always be the last one standing in any game of chess she played.

"And how should I feel, Azrael? Whilst you snog every boy in sight?"

Raising an eyebrow, Jaenel let Brother’s cold words watch over her. Let him be angry; the boy might finally understand the rage that had been brewing in her own heart. She shook her head, a few pieces of her hair straying into her face.

“As if you have any room to speak on the subject, Abbadon,” she spat, more vehemence in her words than she had intended. It was impossible to keep her emotions hidden from him, though. He could read her so plainly, like the stars overhead and the lines of a palm. “I know of you and the girl Valencia.”

She watched as her twin warmed before her, some of his frost melting as he realized his role in their current predicament. His apology rang true, but it didn't pierce Jaenel’s heart. A simple apology wasn't enough for his absolution. Jaenel wanted him to beg for atonement.

As he closed the space between them, reaching a hand for her, Jaenel crossed her arms and hardened her stare.

“You accuse me of taunting you. You accuse me of snogging everyone when you yourself have done the same. And I have brought no accusations against you for that, have I? You abandon me all summer in favor of others.”

Her voice was sharp, barbed, reflecting none of Abbadon’s own warmth or remorse. With each syllable, the edge grew harder, the tone inkier.

“You told me we would be here together, and then you left me behind. I understand my place now, Brother, though it's a cruel way you show it.”

* Julias Blackwood

    (01/08/2017 at 17:47)
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“As if you have any room to speak on the subject, Abbadon,”

His attention peaked, cold gaze finding her own. Though he knew there was nothing he could hide from her, no secret of any sort, the curiosity in his eyes was ablaze. To whom did his beloved speak of? Was it of fair Jophiel, whose soft nature contrasted so very much from their own that it nearly made him recoil, leaving her be. --But who was he fooling? For, with her, his attention would always be within her reach.

Or was it of Ananiel? The dark, brewing storm that cast a shadow over the stars he read. The girl who clouded his memories more so than other he had met--aside from the mirror of himself. Truth be told, only Azrael could make him feel invincible and vulnerable all at the exact time, but now, he wasn't so sure.

“I know of you and the girl Valencia.”

"She is but one, Azrael. Nothing compared to your many conquests," he murmured, feeling the hurt in his soul from the wedge between its other half.

The sting was prominent, watching as she turned from him, blocking herself off mind, body, and soul. He winced from the internal pain it caused. But there was only more to follow. Would he ever be free of her wrath?

“You accuse me of taunting you. You accuse me of snogging everyone when you yourself have done the same. And I have brought no accusations against you for that, have I? You abandon me all summer in favor of others.”

"Abandon? I could never abandon you, Sister. You know this, I needn't remind you of what I've endured to get back to you."

The forgiveness he just not moments before was begging for, disappeared from his mind. The warmth that once radiated around him was slowly diminishing, a chilly breeze coming with the air. His gaze was that of marble, stone to the touch.

“You told me we would be here together, and then you left me behind. I understand my place now, Brother, though it's a cruel way you show it.”

"Then play your role if you so chose, Azrael, I will not stop you."

The tables had turned back to his favor.
« Last Edit: 01/08/2017 at 17:53 by Julias Blackwood »

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