1 Ymiden 722 | Azrael Blackfire | Flayer's End
Azrael found each reply from the dead equally more interesting except for the vengeance seeker. He knew little about the woman who'd caused the incident but he was not one to pursue genocide or agree to it. At least not until he had a good personal reason not to like the species. Regardless Azrael considered the vengeful one a little bit too extreme to really care to help them. The Beloved and the Cowled one he might look to deliver their desire. How hard would it be to bring a ranger to the cradle? How hard could it be to bring part of the cradle to Fensalir? He wasn't sure that the latter would actually help the ghost but it was better than nothing. The Beloved was the only one who gave a desire it really felt like Azrael could fulfill but no true deal was struck before the dead withered.
He was not bound to help them. Even if part of him wanted to.
Tollak could get a message to the husband. It was the least he could do and it was the one thing he knew he would at least try.
He continued on his own with Thorn in his arms and his body aching. He followed the humming as far as he could and when his body gave out, he collapsed onto the floor with as much beauty as he could muster. He didn't even have the strength to warn or apologize to Thorn as they descended. He didn't have the energy to realize he'd come to the center of the great scar on Idalos. It happened so fast and he was asleep again. He thought he might be dead when he hit the ground but what came to him after the world grew blurry and black was far from the Immortals he had been told to expect. He was relieved that he wasn't dead. The world had few truly beautiful faces in it and to deprive it of his just because he walked too far would have been quite tragic. Instead it was another dream of sorts.
He was too dizzy or perhaps too confused to wonder where Thorn had gone or if the boy was alright. What came next came quickly. Knowledge and information he could not have known otherwise which lead to the founding of the place he laid now. The dreams came more as visions in that he remembered all of what transpired within them and none of them had anything to do with him. A more clever man might have taken comfort in this but Azrael was a bit more self centered. If life was going to flash before his eyes as he died, he had hoped it would at least be his life. Oh the memories he would love to see one more time. Regardless, the lives he did see were not half bad in his opinion either.
He had to admit he did quite enjoy the voice that gave coins to those who spoke their secrets. Azrael liked making people speak their secrets as well though he could rarely give them more than the motivation to pursue that secret want. Most people only ever needed that push to pursue their desire... but he never really stuck around long enough to see if indulging in desire ruined the lives of those who crossed his path. Hearing the secret of the woman who engaged with triplets and came out the other end with a child of her own made him wonder how many others had been left in the wake of his power. Desire was a fickle thing. It was not lust. It was closer to want. He always thought he was pushing people into what they wanted but... the consequence for Hilda would last as long as his choice to save Thorn had.
There was the tavern owner, but then there was also the woman of a unique beauty. She was not what Azrael thought many people would look for in a love but he found her difference uniquely attractive. She was the type he would approach in a bar. The type he would try to pull out the secret desire from. The type he might even help to fulfill that desire. It wouldn't matter by the end when he discovered what she'd done. The woman told a secret that Azrael would have hidden, even with his habit of spilling beans. She gave directions to a place he knew he should not know of. She gave too much for a coin in his opinion, but she delivered what the voice asked for. He could respect that at least. How was she to know the spirit would betray the trust? Then again, there was no part of the deal that said the spirit had to keep the secret to itself. A cruel twist to the pact that had been made between the two.
A twist Azrael never tried to weave into his own pacts... but a twist he considered now.
In the end Azrael felt it was moreso the owner of the tavern who had betrayed Alora than the spirit. It started the gossip, but Soren allowed it to spread. Knowing neither of them, Azrael didn't particularly care for much other than the danger that was implied towards the unique beauty. It was the second vision where he began to see the vice tighten and the doom clarified.
It was remarkable and terrifying to see what the woman Azrael had thought of bedding only moments before was truly capable of. Could all mages do such terrifying things? Certainly not him. He was only beset by whispers on all sides, not the elemental power this woman wielded. Still... flaying was a frightening reality for him now. He let Adrian put a parasite in his soul and now the hunger would always be there. He'd have to find a way to cleanse himself of the whispers. He did not need them. The secrets they told could be drawn out in other ways. He would not let himself become his mentor's pawn. He would not let Adrian turn Tali against him because they shared a spark. Not if a spark could cause this destruction.
One bit of information which Azrael learned and felt guilt for was the fact that the woman he thought attractive enough to bed (even short an arm) was the one who had killed the ghost seeking her beloved. He recognized the name as he heard it. Fortunately the dead were not privy to his private thoughts. The loved one was dead. Azrael could not unite them. He could not fulfill that desire for the ghost he considered most kind. She had an obsession she could never fulfill and to whatever extent a hollow heart could, Azrael's heart ached for her. If he lived to trials that would pass, he would as Tollak for the story of the two lovers that the Flayer had killed. At worst, he would gain a story that pulled at his heart. At best, he would find some small hope to reunite the two of them. Anything was better than the wave of black fire (ironic given his name) that washed over and burned out the river which once flowed through the forest.
The third vision was from a time far closer than the others. A time after he had met the daughters of the river. It was only clear to him because he recognized the land of Melrath as it was when he walked it. Scarred by the unique beauty Alora, but living still. It was not men and women who he saw, but instead the spirits of the land themselves. For whatever presence immortals had, Azrael admired the way the spirits worked. They were physical and yet not. They played their games but they did not mark so freely. Azrael had deep feelings toward Syroa who had marked him and deeper feelings towards his mother who had used him as a weapon against his father, but those feelings could not compare to what he thought of and felt for the spirits. Immortals were free to do as they pleased. Spirit were bound like the dead. A spirit of the forest could not thrive a continent away from its forest.
At the least, the visions convinced him that spirits deserved to have their far reaching desires fulfilled.
At the most, the visions had shown Azrael something he wanted to immortalize in word, verse, or art.
The third vision showed unity between the spirits. Unity borne out of a need to stop something Azrael could not fully understand but unity all the same. With the threat beaten, the vision ended and Azrael awoke to a world he recognized and a wild woman he had seen before. More specifically, he was in her arms which he didn't mind at all. She had a comforting grip. He liked to be the big spoon but he could make exceptions.
"Hello, sorry I was napping." Azrael said immediately, trying to maintain the wit and charm he was accustom to presenting. No point in denying the wild woman the wit he gave the rest of the women. His body still ached but with each passing trill he could feel his energy returning to him. Each moment that passed, Azrael could feel his strength returning to him. She spoke of the black key and the pact that they had made but Azrael found himself a little lost in her eyes.
"I came to fulfill my word. The reward is nothing but meeting you... it has been worth it." Was he trying to charm her? Certainly. He had cared about the reward exactly up to the moment until he fell to the ground in exhaustion. After the visions, his perspective has shifted.
The beauty helped him to his feet and took Thorn into her arms while they spoke. There was something about her nurturing nature that Azrael found incredibly attractive, but perhaps it was just more desire poking and prodding at the man who had been born to embody it. As Thorn began to punch at the lovely spirit, Azrael gave him a stern look.
"Stop that, little one. We don't damage art in this family." He said to the little ithecal with a brawling habit. The spirit spoke of an option that Azrael had and expressed that neither choice would effect the deal they had made but Azrael, admittedly, was a little distracted by her eyes. He'd seen a small furry fellow with blue eyes before and wondered if he could replicate them but his spirit had an appearance he knew he could walk comfortably in. Wild as she was, he was into it.
The spirit of the forest explained the situation to the mortalborn and given what he had seen, he understood. It changed nothing. His mind was set when he decided to walk past the dead who had warned him to walk away. He had an option in front of him but it meant nothing to him. He got the rest of what Edasha had bestowed on him either way. All that mattered was fulfilling what he was. He was borne of three domains. Desire, Pacts, and Guilt. He might feel guilt in the trials to pass but for now he had a pact to fulfill and desire that he wanted to pursue. He knew of no other who had done as he had. He didn't really care if others had done what he wanted to do. It was a large world with many pleasures, but who could compare to the Dark Mother? His mind set, he did what he felt he wanted to do.
"You have given me a path- or perhaps it was the daughters. I do miss them, tell them to visit. I miss some more than others but we could all benefit from a reunion." Azrael said with a weak smile and a gesture towards the Embla on his face.
"But as I was saying, this is a path spirits set me on. As much as it is my choice, it is also yours. I want to help you get what you want. If you wish it, if you desire it, I will join with this spirit. I will make it thrive as best I can but I can not promise I will remain is this land forever." He felt it fair to take the spirit from here after they joined and help it thrive wherever they landed but that was not the point. He would, at the least, fulfill his end of the bargain he was making now.
"So tell me, do you wish to see this spirit thrive? Do you want this land restored? I have been in your service for two arcs now, there is no reason to stop where we are." Azrael, realizing the words he had to say, smiled in an awkward manner.
"I will do as you ask, and in return I ask only the one thing no man or woman of Melrath has done before- as far as I know. Bed me tonight, or as many nights as you please, and I will fulfill your desire, whatever it might be." Azrael said with a wit that only returned along with his strength.
"This is not a pact, by my standard, but know that I am not lying to you. If you want this spirit fulfilled, this is just the fastest way... and I'm not too ugly am I? Things can be adjusted.Transformer's Toolbox [Minor]: The bearer is able to make superficial changes to his or her form. Facial skin, hair, eyes, nails, voice - through Syroa's blessing, the bearer becomes a minor shapeshifter, a faint echo of the winged goddess of transformation. Minor alterations are instant - the bearer could be a brunette with a pixie cut and brown eyes one moment, a long-haired, blue-eyed blonde the next. Minor alterations can be held effortlessly for trials at a time, while major alterations will start showing signs of reversion within a few breaks. While users of Makeover can attempt to mimic another, at this level the resemblance will always be a little off. Either way, I know my choice."
Regardless of the spirit's answer, he knew what he would do. He would help the small and weak spirit grow. He'd become too accustom to them to let one wither now. If only one who could make the pacts that he could would be able to restore the spirit to what it was, he would be the man to do it. However that did not change the desire he'd felt since he met the daughters. To be with a spirit for a night was something he did not imagine many could say they'd done before. Oddly enough, his desire was not borne from the feat itself. It was born from the affection he had developed toward the many spirits he had met. He had heard story after story about the Dark Mother but none of them mattered in the moment. She was the one who had saved him from what he felt before. She was the one he wanted to give a night that no other spirit had likely felt.
