She is my Ocean.
The temperature of the icy water sent shivered up her spine and caused her feathers to ruffle briefly. It was bitter and fierce. Much like her. It had been so long but even after the eons; Azazel visited every year. Every annum she forced herself to let go. Her actions could have been seen to be selfish. But if she perished for reproducing with a mortal, then the life which attempted to grow in her belly would have been obsolete any way. It was the first time she had been selfish, back them thousands of years ago. Even when it came to poisoning the mind of humans with sin and destruction, it wasn’t for herself as such. With such understanding, the human race could have been great. But such a soul-destroying act was the beginning of her self-destruction. The reason for her blood lust in the first place. She would never allow a human to damage her womb in such an act of love again. As much as she enjoyed the thrill of sinning, she knew creating life with a human was dangerous. She was shocked that Semyaza had got away with becoming the queen of the Grigori. Even with her own status as Chief of the Grigori, Azazel couldn’t help but stay cautious. After all, all she craved was home.
“Azazel.” The blonde angel heard the familiar voice. How could she forget it? One of the first souls she gazed up at when life was brought to her cerulean eyes in Heaven was his. Michael. Her oldest kin.
Hair floating in the sea breeze as she stood barefoot in the sand, she exhaled slowly, eyelids closing over in a poor attempt to hide the pain from the view of the never-ending horizon. Her past haunted her, and all she wanted to do was let go. His words almost seemed sultry; melting into her skin and causing her hair follicles to rise.
“Why now?” Azazel questioned, her voice stuttering and broken. Caught up in her emotions as she always was, the sea fell calm as the waves washed over her ankles. The foam hugged her cinnamon skin with compassion. The compassion which brought the broken angel to her knees as regret literally washed over her. The fabric of her dress soaked the brine aqua as she fell forward. Her chest was tight, and she grimaced in pain.
“You’re ready.” Michael harmonised to her as he watched her from the golden sand. Watched how she destroyed herself. The bottom of her feathers floated in the salty water as she allowed the welled tears to fall from her cheeks silently. It was the words she always wanted to hear but feared the most. She knew she was never ready. She had crossed paths with many a vicious soul. But her own demons were the worst things to conquer. They sat inside her soul and grew each day that she purged. Such a beautiful disaster; a ticking time bomb ready to implode at any minute. She was her own worst enemy – all stemmed from a night of passion with the wrong sort of blood.
“I can’t leave, Michael. I want to.” Azazel choked, her eyelids peeling back slowly as she gazed out at the setting sun. The water glistened. A beautiful glow which cried to Azazel to immerse herself to never rise from the depths again. To come forth and take the ultimate plunge. To sacrifice herself to save the world.
“I miss home so much. But I cannot leave her. She is my ocean. My blood. By kin. I cannot watch from above as she rages against the elements. I cannot watch as she brings peace to those who relax in such sombre settings. I cannot watch as she consumes the lives of the innocent at sea. As she destroys the earth inch by each in her angry wrath. As she brings happiness to those who are water dwellers. She is mine. She is my daughter. She is my ocean.”