Azazel

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October 15th, 2019




Gender: Female
Status: Single
Age: 25
Country: United Kingdom

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February 17, 2019


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09/12/2019 03:19 PM 

She is redemption.

Colours in her life used to be so vivid. She remembered the saturated hues of the rainbow of flowers which lined the Garden of Eden. She remembered the golden glow of her glorious siblings. Even the ivory of each feather on every wingspan glistened in her memory like glitter. Even after her fall, she remembered gazing out at that Mediterranean Sea and seeing contrasts of blue and green. But as time broke her, the temperature of these colours dropped to grey. Each fluid colour slowly bled into dark tones of white and it was as if the life from everything around her had been drained.

Azazel’s eyelids closed over, tightening together as she released a single tear. It crawled down her face in the same manner the ferocious waves brushed her knees as she remained knelt. Damp sand had sunk her slightly and the bottom of her dress was ruined from the dirty minerals in which the foam carried with each lunge forward. Even the tips of her wings began to matt together because of the water. But she was careless of her appearance. She was without purpose.

“Your Ocean is with us.” Michael’s deep voice echoed throughout the cove as he stepped forward, daring to place his hand on his self-destructive sister. The bitterness of the salty breeze along with his words were enough to cause a shiver to run over the fallen. Shuddering slightly as the pressure of his hand against her held her still.

“She is everywhere. And no where. She was my only regret. The only sin I wish never captured me. Lust took me and tore my innocence limb from limb. But that lust gave me purpose. It could have saved me. And I destroyed it. Like I destroy everything.”

Her voice was lost in the breeze; only just audible to Michael as her vocal cords trembled in fear. Loneliness was the only thing that captured her now. The need to cause destruction to all those in her path to avoid losing herself. She was solitary for this reason. Afraid to lose another like she had lost her daughter through her actions. It was a pain that haunted her; disrupted her pattern from ever being able to sleep. It took her soul and crushed it as if it was an empty snail shell which had been stepped upon. Shattering into shards of woe. Azazel knew she was so far gone that she only wished that Michael was here to serve the ultimate punishment for her torment she had placed upon the world over the past millennia. She was ready and ached for nothing more than to perish. Flaxen strands floated as her complexion flushed a shade of fuchsia in the breeze. It caused a golden shimmer over both the angels as the sun began to set over the distant horizon.

“No. Azazel.” Michael’s tone lowered to a hushed gruff as he crouched down beside his sister. His large, muscular hand dipped into the gentle water as it continuously brushed against them both. As if he was as engrossed and fascinated by the waves as Azazel was. Fingers curling into his palm slowly, Michael shook his head slowly as his identical sapphire orbs met Azazel’s own as she glanced across at him. It was a bitter pill to swallow; gazing into the eyes of one of the angels she held so much animosity towards. She knew deep down that she could not hold Michael accountable for her actions from the fall, or the fall itself. But she had no idea how to truly act. All of her siblings fell silent when she collided with Earth; destroying all celestial relationships she had.

“Your naivety failed you that evening. But it may be what can save you now.” Michael whispered; his gaze intense with her. Azazel knew that look. It was the look he gave Lucifer. The look of longing. Wanting to help. Wanting to save and repair his siblings. That was Michael. He may have been God’s greatest warrior. But he was a protector. If he could have worn several hats, he would have been a guardian if he could have. He knew he’d never be able to help his fallen kin back to righteousness. But he would do all in his power to make them remember who they truly were. Glorious angels; created through love and compassion and nothing else. The lightning in his heart-struck Azazel subconsciously as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Michael.” A lump in Azazel’s throat rose. It was like his words had grabbed her by the jugular and held her there. Bottom lip quivering and a stammer present due to distress. “What is this in-insanity you speak?” She whispered, eyes continuing to swell.

Michael smiled. It was gentle. Calming. Warm. The polar opposite to Azazel’s dark, vicious and sinister smile which usually graced her victims. His hand lowered from her shoulder as he slowly rose, standing and towering over her in his golden glory.

“She is with us. But, really. With us.” Michael’s gaze rose to the Heavens.. Azazel was still confused. Of course her daughter was. She did no wrong for her life to be taken before It had begun. The angel leant forward, distributing her weight as she stumbled to her feet. Wet grains of sand stuck to her knees and calves and her feet sunk into the damp the same way the rest of her did.

“I know that. What is the means of this?” Distorted frustration was heard in her strained voice. What was he trying to do? Of course the young life would be residing in Heaven. Just like all of those who proved loyalty to the Lord. 

Michael smiled once more, shaking his head slowly.

“She is one of us. She may be from a mortal man. But she is one of a celestial mother. Human blades alone would have not vanquished her.” Michael stated the obvious which had gone over Azazel’s head the entire time she walked earth and caused genocide. It was something she loved – being unharmed by measly human weapons. But it had never clicked with her prior. Being so young and innocent, it didn't cross her mind that her daughter would have survived such a horrific ordeal which was being torn from her mother’s womb far before her time. Azazel had been convinced the Heaven’s had washed their hands with her. Why would they save a life which was hers?

Azazel remained silent for a moment. Her entire facial muscles relaxed as she played the scene out in her mind once more. She kept these memories looked deep away. It could have driven her to insanity if she pondered over them. But she needed to piece this together cautiously. Was Michael talking as literal as he was indicating?

Frustration became horrific realisation. Corners of her lips dropped and her bottom lip trembled as her eyes dried their tears in the alkaline breeze. Bloodshot and glazed, Azazel gaze rose up; glancing up at her superior kin who stood in all of his might. She had always been in awe of Michael. He was the male version of her. They were both warriors. But he was created to be. Azazel’s battleaxe ways came from learning the sins and letting them ruin her mind. 

Her knees fell weak but Michael was quick to step forward, embracing Azazel before she could fall. Swollen eyes cried as she buried her face into his bicep. It was the first time in eons since she had let an angel who wasn’t fallen in her presence without wanting to destroy them. Let alone allow herself to be immersed in both embrace and emotion. She had longed to be in her brother’s arms for millenia. No matter how bitter her exterior could come across as; angels were made from love. To love. Her sibling’s absence had been longed for desperately. 

The angel whimpered as mixed emotions took their course. At this stage, it wasn’t clear whether it was animosity or glee. She had become something she had always envied. She was never maternal. Not in the eyes of others. Children made her uncomfortable. Tense. But the underlying problem was the guilt which followed her like the shadows followed her every command. The forced termination was the reason for her lack of attachment to anything. It allowed her to murder so procariously. It stopped her from feeling positive sentiment. Those actions turned her against men and was the reason for all death and destruction. Severe postnatal depression was ingrained into her code so heavily that not even she realised until now. She was clueless which truly caused her tears now but she cried. Hard. Azazel had never released such a hurricane of emotions. A weight off her shoulders but the worst misconduct overrode the relief she should have felt. Dark understanding that all the wrong doings she had done in the world had been for nothing. Demolition of entire countries and civilisations was a bereaving cry for her daughter who had never actually left. Her entire existence had become futile.

Azazel grasped Michael tightly. Her fingers curled in, hands balling up as she let out all of her frustration. The angst and betrayal feelings slowly wilted. As if her entire existence was resetting itself. Her usual release was through destruction. But she felt nothing but love. Her heart was full and it ached for the first time she could remember. The void had been filled.

She had spent her years on Earth searching for a purpose. And now she finally had one. 


09/08/2019 03:50 PM 

Pride.


It was beautiful. The world around her was burning. The Lord’s world; nothing but embers and ashes from her wrath and envious reign. Greece stood at Azazel’s mercy as the lush greenery had become brown and black. The life and soul of the place had been destroyed and she could swear she could still hear the screams from those who had fallen ill to her destruction.

 

The blonde softly smiled as she sat upon her black horse. Her white robes were dirty with soot and blood. But she had what she wanted. A following behind her. Yes, the following only willingly joined their Queen’s side through fear of what she could do. The fire was a fair representation of the Angel. Wild and out of control. Complete innocence had died along with the concept of Sin being anything apart from glorious. Sin had brought her an army. Disciples. Power. A voice. The voice which was not heard in Heaven.

 

“Remember. There is a place where the light will not find you if you defy me. You will join your brothers and sisters if you go against me. For you are all mine.” Azazel called out as she halted her steed ontop of an old brick stage. It was once used as an entertainment platform for the townsfolk. But as the city continued to quietly burn, she used it as a pedestal to highlight her victory. She had made them listen. And they followed.

 

Her horse shuffled underneath her as Azazel gathered the reins. She looked down upon the crowd who were at Azazel’s mercy. Even if some quivered in fear, Azazel still had their forced loyalty. She smiled. It was a proud moment for her. She had done it. She had successfully become a Queen who was worthy of ruling. A grin came to her pale, cracked lips as the sun continued to scold her skin to the tan she was more recognised for in recent day. 

Sapphire gaze turned from her crowd of 100 strong to the genocide she had caused. Family homes now nothing apart from rubble. Charred corpses lined the street and gave off an awful scent of burning flesh. She had flattened the land to make her voice heard. Pride was almost overwhelming. She felt it soar through her veins like ecstasy. It felt far better than wrath, or lust, or envy, or gluttony. It was the strongest of them all. 

“Now. My men. Let me teach you all you dare to learn. For loyalty will be rewarded.” Azazel called out. Some of the men jeered in excitement. Not all hated her. After all, she was still beautiful. Her ivory dress and blonde gleaming locks contrasting the ebony horse she sat upon. She had finally found acceptance.

 

“Let’s start with Gluttony…” 

09/07/2019 08:12 PM 

Envy


The death of Cassander caused rifts across Macedon and the rest of Greece in which the arrogant gladiator had seized. Many mourned his death. But many rejoiced. However, all turned against Azazel due to the heartless murder. Slaughtering another was understandably frowned upon. But the hands of a woman slaying another? It was unheard of. Women were meant to be filled with compassion and love. To be able to counteract the natural aggression men had through their dominant traits to unite as one. Azazel was once this. She was once compassion and love - very recently. But that had now shrivelled and died like a wilted rose. Only her thorns stood strong; firmly ingrained in her soul.
 

“Why won’t they listen?” Azazel growled as she stood at the palace window which overlooked the angry crowds in the streets of Athens. It had been several weeks since Azazel had torn her daughter from her body. Yet she needed no healing time. A divine blessing was her ability to heal. Even if her mind was subconsciously mourning over forcefully ending her maternal instincts. But she was beginning to channel her sorrow into the new-found wrath she had conquered. 


“You killed their King, my Queen. They will of course hold some animosity towards you.” The maid was quick to scurry out onto the balcony and into the beaming sunlight which outlined Azazel’s glory. But the angel felt no glory. She felt hatred towards her. She did not understand why. She acted in self-defence. Daring to be the first and last woman to stand up to Cassander and his abusive tendencies. But of course, the unknowing mortals didn’t know that. And that angered her. They no longer looked upon her in awe of her radiance. Her difference. Her pale skin and blonde hair had become a curse to the people of Greece rather than a physical gift from the Gods. 


The words from the maid annoyed her almost instantly. With wrath consuming her again in seconds, the slender, tall angel turned to the maid and leant forward, hands resting on her knees as she lowered herself to the smaller woman’s level. Azure gaze meeting with her own warm, hazel hues, Azazel grinned. 


“I want them to listen to me. Like they listened to him. They will listen to me.” Azazel threatened as she began to feel envy.Her grin only grew as she watched the maid attempt to argue with her point. But the woman was met with the grasp of an angel. Unforgiving and stronger than any man. The dainty celestial slowly picked her up by her throat, blue eyes gazing up at the woman who squirmed in her grasp.


“They will listen to me!” Azazel firmly whispered, only just audible as shrieking was to be heard in the crowd as a bystander pointed up at the royal and her servant. Gasps soon echoed throughout the street of Ancient Rome as the common people laid their eyes on the horrific sight of their queen showing anything but love and compassion. That was beginning to die in Azazel’s soul. Being taken over by the guilt which shrouded her deep down but more noticeably; the desire to be the only heard voice. She spent so long in Heaven trying to be taken seriously. Now she struggled on earth too? Never. 


“You will all listen to me!” Azazel’s strong vocals called out to the people below who’s jeering had fallen silent as they nervously watched the angel and the maid who’s life was deteriorating in Azazel’s clasp. She was determined to have authority. To have respect. And she planned to take it by force.

 

With a careless flick of her rest, Azazel threw the helpless woman from the balcony and into the crowd. Some tried to put their arms out in an attempt to save the helpless woman. But the power of the angel was too much and even the force of her body hitting those who held empathy caused them to be knocked off of their feet substantially. 

 

“I am your Queen and ~ “ 


Azazel found herself cut off as another voice dared to speak back to the blonde. Her grin died as her eyes widened, glancing down over the balcony to see who had a clear death wish.


“No! A real Queen does not hurt a man! She hurts no one! She is gentle and kind and~” 


“How dare you speak against your Queen like that!” Azazel had teleported instantly infront of the man who stood with his lit torch in hand. He stumbled back slightly – taken off guard by Azazel’s unknown talent. She lunged her hand forward, snatching the wooden fire pole from the man and smirked. 


“For that. You will die.” She whispered. She didn’t know how clear she needed to make it. Gasps were heard again before screaming. Not just from the man in front of her. But from all around as Azazel angled the torch forward quickly, purposely pushing the flames into the man’s torso. He leapt back but it wasn’t quick enough. The fire was quick to hug the cotton of his shirt and began to engulf him. Straightening the torch, Azazel’s eyebrows furrowed and she sadistically smirked as she watched the man stumble and cry in sheer agony as he burned alive. People quickly backed off and some even began to run from the crazed angel. But she was careless. By now, she was so determined to get her way that she would destroy everything to do it. 

 

“You will all listen to me.” Azazel repeated once more as she stepped forward, following the running crowd like a shepherd hoarding innocent sheep. Men ran. Women and children ran. Soldiers who manned the City rode their horses and infantry dropped their weapons and retreated. They all screamed and cried as they all pushed and shoved one another to try and get away. A giggle came from her as she stopped at the first house she got to and rested the torch against the wooden shutters until they eventually caught alight. Slowly, one by one, she made her way down the path; behind the depleting crowd as she continued to repeat this. Houses began to burn. Deathly screams were heard from those trapped inside and faced with death. The sound was like music to her ears. Envy had driven her to take what she believed what was rightfully hers. Respect and authority. The whole town slowly began to burn; filling the pure air with ash and smoke. People ran into the street; the fire on their garments causing them to burn. Any stragglers, Azazel was quick to grasp and jolt their heads from their shoulders; snapping their necks instantaneously and launching their corpses into buildings at such a force that collapse was imminent. There was no order to her destruction. Everyone was fair game. She was like a winged phoenix  embracing the fire she held in her hand to make her voice heard. 

 

“If you will not willingly bow down to me. I will make you!” 



09/03/2019 05:31 PM 

Wrath

“When did you last eat, my dear?” Asked one maid as she tugged at the blonde’s arm; dragging the ivory robes from her flawless body which had been purposely fitted for that grand day which had now ended. 


“When did you last bleed?” Another question, thrown at her by the other maid who stood in front of her; removing the tiara from Azazel’s blonde crown with curiosity in both maiden’s eyes. They stepped back, examining the naked angel for a moment. 

 

Confused at the sudden trivia, Azazel frowned, eyebrows furrowing as she took the more comfortable silk which she spent a moment draping over herself to give her some modesty. What strange questions. Bleed? She didn’t bleed any sort of blood. She was an angel. But before she could answer, the maids were whispering; burning gazes as Azazel’s swollen stomach. 

 

“She is our queen now. You can’t say that!” One maid shrieked as she gently hit the other in the arm with the palm of her hand. 

 

“Say what?” Azazel questioned as she ran her hands through her hair momentarily, blissfully unaware of the change in her body. 


“Sin.. my queen. She suggested sin!” There was clearly no loyalty between the two bickering women as they tried to piece two and two together. But they weren’t wrong. It hadn’t even clicked that her actions of fornication could cause a ripple effect on her body. After all, she was just randomly created. There was no meeting of flesh. No intimacy behind it. She was a mere thought which came to be. Nothing more, nothing less. 

 

Azazel had heard enough. Her patience had been lowering slowly since being on Earth. She thought she said some stupid things but she was challenged by the intellect of humans. They were more impressionable than she. A rare occasion. 


“You dare insult me on my wedding day?” Azazel stood from the perch which was the side of her bed, hand raising and lashing across the woman’s face who dared to question her faith. A chilling sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the Angel’s chambers as she bared her teeth at them both.


“Get out! How dare you!” 


With a gasp from both the contact of her fearless hand and her cold words, the maids nodded and quickly scurried out. As each day past, she was unintentionally becoming more agitated. Aggressive. As if the sins she was learning had a more sinister effect on the soul of an angel. Who would know? After all – sinners were punished. But... no sinner was an angel. Not yet. It would be a while until her brothers and sisters came to play. 

 

Sitting herself back down on the bed, a long sigh left her lips; sapphire gaze lowering to her stomach which was covered by the maroon silk she had utilised as a gown. A hand rose, placing it on her stomach for a brief moment. She didn’t feel any different in herself. Apart from her anger which had come out of no-where. Like a strange shift in tension which had been triggered by something. Hormonal. Impulsive. These were not angelic traits. The maids were right. Her abdomen was tight. Warm to the touch. Inflated bulge all screaming warning signs at her. It took a while to click. But when it did, Azazel’s eyes widened slowly. She would surely perish for this. Laying with man was one thing. But procreating with them could have been a completely different Sin in itself. 

 

She breathed in heavily, eyes closing over as she realised the seriousness of this. She couldn’t perish. She wasn’t ready. Where did angels go to die? They were immortal. They couldn’t die.. could they?

 

Azazel wasn’t hanging around to find out. But this shock which shrouded her body like a deadly disease erupted into something else.


Wrath. 

 

How dare a human man spoil her. 

 

This sudden feeling of rage which came over her was unexpected and almost unexplainable. Even mortals who struggled to accept their fate would have never had reacted in such a way. How she managed to turn from her bittersweet innocence into a furious ball of destruction was unfathomable. But it didn’t take long for Azazel to ruin her chambers. The shrieking angel tore at the thin netting which was her curtails. She launched objects at the poster bed, shattering the wood into a thousand splinters. Porcelain crumbled across the marble tiles into painted shards and the brickwork was soon lined with puncture marks which came from her enraged fists as she channelled her inner celestial strength. 


It didn’t take long for Cassander to arrive. After all, they were to consummate their marriage. But from the disruption he arose to up the stone staircase, a look of shock came to his facials. Naturally, he approached her whirlwind which was Azazel with utter confusion. They had just got married. It was what she had been lusting for. What her greed stemmed from. Was that not enough? 


He came from behind her and wrapped his arms around the angel in a bid to calm her down. But it was useless. She grabbed his bicep and hauled him over her shoulder and onto his back with a thud which caused the building to tremble from her wrath. Heavily breathing, the angel stood over the trojan man who had gone from being a mighty warrior to a quivering man who saw a side of his wife which was never imaginable. That innocent girl who had been brought to his doorstep as a gift had become his worst nightmare in a matter of seconds. But his other side soon began to shine through. He was renowned for his abusive mouth and hand to the maids. As Azazel turned to continue lashing out, a shriek came from her lips as she tripped forward; ankle being yanked at as she went to step away. Landing with her own stomach-wrenching tumble upon the cold stone. A vindictive smirk came from Cassander as he watched the porcelain blonde land with a brief wince from the awkward class of bone on the floor. He was quick to try and intercept her from moving though as he forced himself up from his elbows and flipped his body over. Landing on top of her, Cassander put a hand over her mouth quickly, angry cries becoming nothing more than weak muffles as he grinned down at her. His secondary hand then began to claw at her silk; physically demanding the removal with the crazed, sexualised look in his eyes. 


Most women would have gazed up at the pervert with fear in their eyes. But she was not any woman. She was an angel. And a furious one with a flame in her heart that was growing day by day. Her eyebrows furrowed as he continued to throw fuel on her fire by firmly undressing her. 

 

The next action was a blur. There was no way to describe how it felt. How easy it was to tear human flesh. How the skin held no resistance to the large shard of pottery that Azazel had scrambled for and plunged into his side without even thinking. Cassander paused, a quivering gasp coming from his lips as he struggled to find his breath. It wasn’t intentional. But with the mood she had been in and his outlandish behaviour only pushing her further, it wasn’t surprising by the way she acted. It could have almost been said to be self-defence if she hadn’t followed through with her next actions. 


Pushing his body back off of her, Azazel sat herself up and then hauled herself up to her feet. She was careless that her robe was nothing more than a crumbled mess at her feet; now stained in blood where Cassander had begun to bleed out on top of her. There was something about the scene which gave Azazel a feeling of empowerment. She had been the youngest in Heaven. She was often disregarded and needed to be persistent to be heard. But this... this had got the message across loud and clear. 


With a hand on his shoulder as Cassander laid, clutching at his stomach as he began to cough blood, Azazel’s head slowly began to tilt, watching him with a smirk coming to her lips. That greed and lust for him had been taken over by wrath. And she was embracing it. 

 

“You will never lay a hand on me again.” Azazel whispered as she gazed into his eyes which were swollen in tears. Still completely shocked that his dearly beloved had done such a thing. After all, wasn’t this the part she had been lusting for since she first embraced the sin? 


“No man will ever touch me like that again. No man will ruin my divinity. Not you. Or any man.” She whispered as her hand lowered to the large shard which still remained lodged in his stomach. With a small smile coming to her lips as her gentle gaze melted his own, her dainty hand put more pressure on the wound again, driving the shard further into him as he cried out in agony. Blood soaked his robe and stained the nude angel as slowly rose; wiping her bloody hand against her thigh. She shook her head and turned. 

 

“I am divinity.” 



08/28/2019 05:23 PM 

Lust

It has been several months since her fall now. Azazel was slowly becoming accustomed to this new world. She had learned to walk properly. To deal with the feeling of gravity pinning her down to the ground constantly. She had been weightless in Heaven. As if she floated; no real use for her wings. It was to the point that she had no idea how to use the feathers which protruded out of her back; permanently crooked from her fall. Being one of the first to fall, God hadn’t established to remove her celestial elements. She just needed to go. There was no majestic ceremony. No heartfelt goodbyes. It was done in a few blurred moments. As soon as word got from Uriel to Michael, her existence became a burden they refused to forgive. Even if God did have it in his heart to forgive all Sin; this had not been established yet. It would be her actions over the next few months which would make the Lord realise that Sin needed forgiveness – provided it was justified. 

It was a strange time for her. She was still theoretically so young. She resembled that of an adolescent child who was just coming into puberty. She was far from the matured glory of her other sister. Yet here she was. It was only days before she was to be wed to Cassander. She guessed that was his name. The townsfolk sung his praises. His name was scripted everywhere within the castle walls. All of the maids addressed him as Prince Cassander. But her language skills weren’t the strongest yet. In fact, Azazel barely said a word to her forced suitor. But he seemed to prefer it that way. He had little respect for women; especially the ones who he summoned to his chambers to bend to his every will. Every will apart from his carnal desires. 

Men had not been created to have such cravings. Fornication was strictly for child-baring uses and nothing else. Just like any other mammal, they had no other desires to mate apart from when a woman gave off indication that she was in her child-baring prime. And angels were created the same. Although, in Heaven, there was no elemental factors. Nothing to trigger this transition into sexual maturity. It was not needed for they were never to breed. They were to remain servants of their father for eternity. The only children who would exist in Heaven would be those God created. 

 The timing of her fall in regards to her age and this strange run in with the Ancient Greeks couldn’t have been worse for her. For as she was coming to age, Azazel found herself more and more fixated on the young Prince she had been given to. More like a gift but a valued one. Cassander may have been verbally abusive and demanding to all. But when it came to his Angel, he was tender. Quiet. Gentle. He had to be. She didn’t understand anything he said. She didn’t understand much it seems. But he simply expected it was because she came from a faraway land where education may have not been a top priority. But she was beautiful and the City seemed to be in awe of her. Becoming physically speechless in her presence. 

Azazel wanted to learn. It was in her code to learn, and then teach. It was her entire existence and only thing she understood. But it was to the point where these carnal instincts and growing attraction for her affianced had got her mind wandering. Watching the world fall in love as she wandered the streets in her blue silken robes. She already screamed royalty, no thanks to her divinity. The curious child had been invading privacy. Discreetly. But her prying eyes only confused her more. Baring witness to those who gave themselves to each other, Azazel spent her evenings watching in awe of the collision of bodies. Peculiar noises left their organs and overwhelming amounts of touching the other party seemed to be involved. Azazel was yet to touch Cassander. They didn’t even intertwine hands. It was not to be. As stunning as the fallen was, she was not to be seen as the same status as the Prince. Not yet. He was not her queen. But she wanted to be. She wanted to be a pretty queen, in a pretty castle, with an army of loyal men behind her. And she wanted to understand how the humans showed affection. How they showed they were devoted to the cause.

 -      -     -

“My dear. Why are you awake? You should be resting!” Shrieked the athletically sculpted man as he stirred from his light sleep once Azazel sat herself on the side of his bedstead. Both herself and the human race lacked manners so had no real understanding of intrusion. Especially not Azazel after her secret galivanting most evenings. 

Her stomach was doing somersaults. Her attraction to his warm, hazel eyes was something she had never experienced before. Naturally drawn to him; a smile blessed her glowing face. 

“I should touch you.” Azazel whispered, already clawing back the soft duvet which covered his naked frame. But Cassander was quick to intercept her, pulling the covers back over his frame with a look of horror on his face. 

“No. It doesn’t work like that. For we are not in Wedlock. God will punish us!” He sternly affirmed, a frown growing under the chocolate bristles which lined his jaw and lip line.  

Azazel couldn’t help but smile wider. Her innocence still overrode any other emotion which may be trying to claw through.  

“He has already punished me, my Prince. He cannot hurt us.” It was as if she was a deluded robot as she spoke, slowly standing up as her bright sapphire gaze was fixated on the confused Prince. He still had no clue what she was, what she meant by that statement, or an understanding of the female body. This was clear as Azazel slid the robe from her shoulder and let the delicate silk fall to her ankles. 

“What do you mean punishe~” His voice trailed off as he laid eyes on her naked frame. It was as if he had just been shown his father’s crown, along with all the gold in the land. Infatuation swamped him – as if it hadn’t already having a beautiful blonde by his side. 

“Azazel, cover yourself. We must not.” He forced himself to sat, pushing back the duvet to stand; careless of his own bare body being on show.

Azazel was stumped. Eyebrows raising at the sight when left her speechless. But her body responded for her. She stepped closer to him, her hands brazenly placing themselves on the side of his neck as she gazed up at the Greek warrior with dewy eyes.  

“Am I not worthy enough, my Prince?” Azazel whispered. She was taken back by his words but a smile still remained on her lips. Her entire persona radiating guileless, but her instincts were taking over. The environment of this world and the trauma from the initial fall was throwing her far ahead of her time than she knew. And she was acting upon these strange impulses which caused her to press her delicate frame against his broad build. Unaffected by any thought of being punished for her actions as her body cried for attention. 

“Of course, you are. You will be my queen. But we must~” Azazel cut off the defiant man by leaning up on the balls of her feet and pressing her gentle lips against him tenderly. Too unsophisticated to take no for an answer. She knew persistency paid off. She learned that in Heaven when it came to bugging her older siblings to go on strange adventures with her through the Silver City. Wearing them down until they eventually gave in to the wide-eyed blonde. Too innocent to know anything else and too attractive to say no to; the man succumbed to her. He gave up the fight at the mesh of his lips as he placed his rough pads on her hips and pulled her into him. Letting his calves press against the wooden frame of the regal bed, he sat; pulling the angel on top of him as they both immersed their bodies within each other. 


08/28/2019 05:23 PM 

Greed

It was as if someone was sat on the angel’s chest; crushing her lungs as she tried to understand this feeling which was beginning to overwhelm her. With her lustful impulses becoming more and more frequent, the suspense in waiting to be wedlock was beginning to irritate the innocent angel.

Her pure mind was slowly beginning to erode. It wasn’t notable enough to her or anyone on the outside. But certain aspects of her were changing. Her previous persistence she held when in Heaven was still evident. But it was becoming more forceful. More aggressive. ‘No’ wasn’t an answer that existed to her anymore. And this strange tightness in her ribs swamped her body when someone did defy her. Did they really not see the wings on her back and the radiating glow which came from her? Yes, it was fading. But she still screamed celestial brilliance. She was a living dream to every mortal who walked the earth. Not only that but she was now a proclaimed Princess. Royalty over a foreign land which she did not understand.

“I can’t wait any longer.” Azazel whispered as she sat on the cold marble tiles which lined her chamber floor. She wasn’t talking to herself. Of course not. Insanity didn’t exist in an angel’s mind. But she was talking to the silhouette of herself which was glued to the wall next to her; mirroring her every move.

“Why should I? They all worship me anyway. Why am I kept waiting? Isn’t it rude to make a lady wait?” Azazel continued to mumble to herself as she gazed at the wall with a sigh. However, her shadow began to move without authorisation. Azazel sat slumped over, knees to her chest and arms folded over the top of them. Forehead pressed against her arms as she gazed down at the floor; clueless to her shadow beginning to dance against the wall. Strangely symbolic. For the child inside her was slowly dying. Yet the speechless figure resembled her usual self; energetic, eager and full of life.

Azazel’s gaze caught onto the movement of light in her peripherals and glanced up, eyebrows raising as she saw her shadow beginning to pirouette. A strange sight; unsettling to most. But a giggle erupted from her chest as the troubled angel grinned.  Leaning forward on the balls of the feet, she hauled her heavy frame up to stand and rose her hand in her air. Her shadow responded. But not like a shadow should have. Peeling away from the wall; the shadow approached, lacing its digits between hers and it’s faceless persona took young Azazel by the waist and encouraged her to dance. Trying to keep her in her innocence for as long as possible; coaxing her to remain a child as they danced across the cold floor. Pads of her feet thudded quietly as they came into contact with each tile in elegant precision as the two figures moved to the sound of a harp which could be heard outside.

Dancing her purposely towards the balcony in which the shuttered door was open and creaking in the breeze, the Shadow halted and reluctantly peeled itself from her to let her lay her eyes on the scene below. Her playful grin slowly died as the bright blue eyes gazed below upon the maids of the palace following Cassander around like a bad smell. Jealousy wasn’t an obvious trait in an angel. But it only made that cramping sensation worse. The sweet women were not touching him. They were not fascinating over him. They were simply doing the job they were hired to do; which was to tend to his needs. But for the first time, Azazel felt animosity. Negative energy bubbled away in her as her eyebrows furrowed and her jaw clenched.

“Sort this.” Azazel whispered to the shadow who lingered beside her. But without initially moving, Azazel’s gaze snapped to the side as she growled. “You brought me to this scene. Get rid of it.” The shadow slowly took a few steps back, before blending back in with the wall and bleeding down the wall like an ebony waterfall.

Other dark contours seemed to merge with her initial shadow as it made its way down the wall and into the courtyard. Remaining 2D as the growing wall of darkness soon consumed both the women and Azazel’s husband to be. A confused expression graced Cassander as she turned, glancing up at the balcony to see his angel standing there, breeze causing her golden locks to float in the breeze.

“My princess! It seems that the world falls dark at your presence!” The man called up to her; like a strange Romeo and Juliet. He rose his arms, holding them out to her.

“There are no clouds in the sky. No obstructions to halt the sun from its blessing. How extraordinary, eh?!” he continued loudly, wandering closer to she could stand beneath the balcony which Azazel stood static upon.

“Tell me, my Prince. Why must we wait?” Azazel questioned, her voice stern as frustration ingrained itself in her mind as a new emotion she had now learned.

“Well because it will be the biggest event in Greece. The history books will write about our coming together and sing our names to the Gods!” Cassander’s hoarse voice called up with a grin blessing his rustic facials. The thought alone of his name plastered in every Greek pantheon was his dream. It was the ultimate goal for every Greek man. And then some. But Azazel had other plans.

“But you have already laid with me. Why must we wait?” Azazel asked again, her voice becoming more assertive which only seemed to bring a frown to Cassander’s lips; destroying his happiness in an instant. In the meantime, Azazel placed her hands on the side of the balcony wall, white robe keeping her modesty hidden just about as she clambered over the stone.

“No, princess!” One of the women called as she looked upon the sight in horror as the angel dangled herself. It wasn’t a huge drop. But still one which a fragile young woman wouldn’t get away from without a sprained ankle at best. Yet they all were oblivious to the wings on her back which helped her quickly glide down to her feet, landing in a crouching position briefly before inhaling deeply on the warm, salt air which was Athens. Straightening her posture as she turned to face her suitor, Azazel nodded.

“Give us time, my maiden. You are mine, do not worry.” Cassander tried to assure as he watched the sultry angel approach whilst her finger places itself over his lips in order to quieten him.

“Oh, no, my Prince.” Azazel found a smirk coming to her lips as the shadows slowly began to retract; returning to their original positions as their master now had matters in her own hands. Azazel’s beady eyes then glanced over the gladiator’s shoulder who was draped in red robe and sword; glaring at the maids who still had no understanding of anything past purity. Not understanding Azazel’s sudden impulse of greed.

“I think you will find that you... are mine.”


08/28/2019 05:22 PM 

Sloth


It had been days since she fell. Her entire body ached. An ache she had never experienced before. Like rocks were tied to her ankles; weighing her entire body down as her dirty, cut feet dragged themselves across the dusty wasteland. She had no concept of navigation or understanding of where to go. In fact, she had no idea where she was. How she got there was still a blur. She remembered Michael letting go. She remembered Lucifer’s cry. She remembered losing her breath due to the gravitational pull that came from her falling. She remembered landing; smashing into the mountain as if she was built from obsidian. But... she came out with just a mere few scratches and a damaged wing. Even the creator she left in the side of Mount Hermon seemed to be lost on her. She had never seen a sibling fall. She didn’t know the substantial outcome it would have on her. 

 

A defeated sigh escaped the angel’s dry lips. The heat was intense and even still being in a nude state; her body was overheating. With no protection against the rays; her skin began to absorb the Vitamin D. Her porcelain skin was no more; holding more of a blushed tan across her nude body as her legs buckled, collapsing and letting the heat of the land consume her as she fell into a state of unconsciousness. Alone in the Syrian desert, she truly had fallen. 

 

 

“Silence.” 

 

The words broke through the white noise as a bright light appeared; blurred from behind her eyelids. They were sore and scalded from the fall. Her entire frame was like that. Her figure was perfect; but was smothered with imperfections as her body tried to accustom itself to the earth and a way of healing. Her chest was tight and her lungs felt like they were laced in smog. Breathing out heavily, Azazel’s eyelids flickered open slowly. The sun which beamed through the gaps in the roof of the tent was enough to be blinding. Her irises were a light shade of cerulean as they gleamed in the light. Her hair was gleaming; almost sparkling when the golden locks caught the sun. She was divine. 

 

“She has awoken.” 

 

The gruff voices of men danced in her audits. She was in a completely different calibre to these men who wore tattered robes. Their hands were riddled with calluses and dirt was ingrained under their fingernails as they all huddled around the angel who was laid out across every blanket and drape they could have found in their camp. Sandals on their feet were worn down to the core as they all gazed at the angel with intrigue. They had never laid their deep hazel eyes on such a beautiful woman. Most women were dark haired, dark skinned and underweight. So, finding an Arian woman was something of miracles. And that’s what they believed. 

 

Too confused to really understand what had happened and who these men were, Azazel slowly sat up, wincing in pain as she did so. The men gasped as she moved, mesmerised by her. They couldn’t see the bloody feathers which came from her back. They got no celestial aurora from her. All she was in their eyes was a beautiful woman who had clearly got lost on her journey.

 

“We must take her.”

“Where shall she go?”

“To the Prince. She is the one. And he is the only one deserving of such beauty. A perfect suitor for a Princess.” 

These words were foreign to Azazel. The cherubim was clueless to this world, or what this meant. But with no energy to fight it, she allowed herself to lay back against the wool of the handmade quilts; each stitched with love and care; the only thing men knew. They had even dressed the angel in such robes; but her own ivory and made from the purest of woven silks. 

 

 

The next time she dared to wake, Azazel found herself in a new land. It was like the Garden of Eden – the reason she was on this doomed Earth in the first place. Lush blades of grass lathered this new world with life. Trees were laden with fruit and the flowers blossomed like those in Eden did. It was a scenery overload. Colours splashed the plain as she came around. Sat clinging on to one of the men who lead her through the questionable state of the desert and into this new land. Greece. The beautiful grey steed below them followed behind several domesticated camels as they entered the city. 

Just like the land, the buildings were perfection. For this day in age anyway. A time before Christ, but exact B.C was not confirmed. No one had a concept of time or dates. It was a simple world. With wooden and mud-coated houses which eventually lead to more regal, stone structures which resembled that of a grand palace. Crowds of people lined the long walkway which the travellers rode, all gasping and watching in awe. A maiden with fair hair was one thing. But a maiden who looked like an angel in her white robes and her pale complexion. Her entire existence seemed to sparkle in the sun as she remained clutched on to the long-haired man. Hooves clattered against the limestone below them as they approached the grand building. 

Coming to a halt as the domesticated mounts snorted and shuffled, Azazel was lifted down by one of the other men who had been leading. But instead of allowing her to walk, he carried her in like a damsel in distress. But the problem was; she wasn’t in distress. She had become so numb; confused to everything going on. Every time she awoke, something else was happening. She was tired. Worn out in the world already. Everything moved so much quicker than Heaven. It was as if life was flashing past her eyes. And it was. 

The next thing she knew, Azazel had been presented before the grand Prince. He stood like Trojan horse in the Grand Hall. Emerald hues, thick, brown locks and a tanned complexion which was flawless over his chiselled body stood tall and proud. In a robe of red which contrasted her white, the innocent blonde found herself being taken by the hand of the proud Greek warrior and was left to slowly piece together what on Earth was going on. Most would of fought this. After all; she was an angel. A fallen angel. Yet; she had given up already. Falling tired of this world, she became submissive to her surroundings and everything which was consuming her far quicker than she could comprehend. She didn't know it, but the mixture of different low emotions was Sloth taking hold of her. Tired of fighting before she had even begun. She was already willing to let this new life to take her by it's vicious talons. 

08/21/2019 09:55 PM 

Gluttony.

 

Paradise was beautiful. After all, it was paradise. Lush emerald blades scattered the floor and pristine woodland flourished. Flowers bloomed an array of colours and brought scents to the nostrils so pure and fragrant that any soul would remember this place for millennia. It was perfection. It was the garden of Eden. 

 

But with everything perfect, temptation naturally followed.

 

Curiosity was the only thing that the young angel ever felt. She had no other feelings or true understanding yet. She was created with the intense light of the lord which burned bright through her sapphire gaze. She was so full of hope and imagination that most were in awe of her innocence. It could be frustrating to the rest of the Arch Angels as she needed consistent supervision. She wasn’t hard of understanding or slow at learning. The problem was that she was too quick at picking things up. As if her sole purpose should have been that of a guardian, not an archangel. But that was not God’s plan.  

 

When evening struck Heaven, it wasn’t like the darkness Earth knew. All through nightfall, a gentle glow remained across the Silver City. It was something no one could explain – a bit like every angel’s existence. They just existed, and that was that. But Azazel questioned it. She questioned everything. Which included why Gabriel and Michael were so adamant to drag her from the garden that day. It caused her mind to wander. 

“But Lucie was fine with it. Why wasn’t Mikey?” Azazel whined as she tugged on Gabriel’s hand impatiently but was met with silence. As always, Gabriel was scribing as the hand of God. So wrapped up in her quill and parchment that she hadn’t even picked up on the little blonde’s sulking next to her. With a frown from the ignorance, Azazel carelessly climbed onto Gabriel’s lap tugging at her hair. Gabriel sighed as she placed the quill down and picked up the little angel, a look of dissatisfaction across her face. 

“That’s enough for one day.” Gabriel muttered as she stood up, carrying Azazel in her arms. A dramatic sigh came from Azazel as she threw her arms backwards, flailing around in Gabriel’s firm hold which didn’t allow for squirming. 


“But Gabe! It’s not fair!” Azazel groaned, pushing her bottom lip out as threw her head back, glancing up at the marble ceilings of the library which each book was being hand written for; pouting profusely. 

 

“Sleep now. It’s time to be at peace.” Azazel continued to pout as her sister planted a gentle kiss upon her forehead before leaving the juvenile in her chambers to settle. 

 

But even at this age, she was like a dog with a bone. She had laid her eyes on something she wanted. And she was not going to stop.

 

Azazel laid in the luxurious silken sheets, pondering over what to do. She wanted that fruit so badly. It looked delicious. She had no idea if it was or not. Being in a permanent state of content, she had no need to try it. But there was a part of her which was crying out for it. The temptation was strong. But she would not succumb. She was an Angel, not Eve. She would not do such a thing. 

But secrets did not exist in Heaven. She had to tell someone. Someone who had no idea what she was on about. Someone with no opinion on the situation and could give her a genuine, honest truth on the matter. 

She clambered out of bed awkwardly; rolling onto her stomach as her legs dangled over the side before she slid out and to her feet. She was surprised that Gabriel hadn’t come running back as Azazel had barely allowed her to leave her chambers before she was up and out again. 

Carefully stepping to her door and peering out to see where Gabriel had gone, Azazel sighed in relief to see no sign of her sister. So, she continued; cautiously slipping out of the gap which was always purposely left open. Being the youngest, her siblings were naturally protective of her. Not that anything would ever happen to her in Heaven. But Archangels were natural fighters. Protecting was all they knew. 

Azazel’s melodic voice quietly sung out to the door she finally stopped in front of; hand raising and opening the door without any consideration for privacy.


“Uri?” The blonde pushed the door open slowly as her beady eyes peered in. A smile came from Uriel’s soft, angelic features; sitting upright to address the young angel who’s bare feet padded across the pristine flooring. 

Azazel hauled herself up on the bed next to the arch angel who was forced from their slumber; Azazel shuffling to get herself comfortable as she crossed her legs and began to twiddle her thumbs. 

 

“Azazel. You should be asleep.” Uriel said with a stern voice. “What would Fath~” 

“Uri, can I ask you something?” Azazel’s bright blue gaze glanced down at her older kin, an awkward smile coming to her little face as she tried to comprehend how to addresss the situation. 

“Sure..” Uriel slowly sat up, a frown coming to his features as he watched the young angel try to find her words. Pondering over something which was probably minor and irrelevant no doubt. Uriel was used to it. All the angels were. Azazel would always ask bizarre things. She was the only one who happened to question everything. Her existence, her sibling’s existence. The Lord’s existence. She was far more switched on than any of them. Her age just went against her. 

 

“What does it mean when you want something... that you don’t need?” Azazel quizzed, her voice full of innocence. 

“What do you mean, Azazel?” Uriel held his arm out for her, a grin coming to Azazel’s lips as she shuffled closer and rested herself against Uriel. She dramatically shrugged before giggling.

“I don’t know. It feels strange!” Azazel said through her quiet laughter. Uriel frowned and glanced down at her, taking her chin underneath his grasp to raise her eye gaze to his own.

“Strange?” Concern began to show itself in his voice as he watched his little sister try to explain herself. 

 

“Ok, so me and Lucie and Mikey and Gabe and Azzy all went to the garden today.” Azazel began, a pearly white grin blessing her angelic features. “And I saw the fruit. It was so shiny. I wanted it. But they said I couldn’t. But I really wanted it, Uri..” Azazel sighed, flopping her hands down with a pout. “I know we don’t need it. But I wanted it. I wanted them all. They were so pretty. They looked so shiny..” Azazel bit down on the corner of her lip as she glanced down; not picking up on the panicked expression which came over Uriel. 

“So you’re telling me that you desired this, little one? You desired the fruit? Even though you don’t.. need it?” Uriel asked, slowly unwrapping Azazel from his grasp as he pushed back the bed covers and got up; his glorious white robe outlining his glory. With a pout to her lips, Azazel glanced up and slowly nodded. A confirmation that Uriel had every right for the fear which now overwhelmed him.

 

She felt Gluttony.

[ This blog post is private ]

08/13/2019 10:05 PM 

Blood Isn't Thicker Than Water


With a catastrophic collision, the world shook. With a chilling crack of lightning, it was done. 

 

Mount Hermon. The dusty plane which housed the mountain of the world was sprinkled in craters. Deep crevasses freckled the unforgiving rock which stretched for miles. As if some relenting force was using it as target practice. 

 

They were. Their choice of weapon? Angels. Feathered, bitter souls who had turned sour whilst basking in paradise. Each regal creature had their own story which lead them to their temporary defeat against their creator. But Azazel? Hers shook the Heaven’s the most.

Like a bird who had been mauled by a cat, Azazel’s quivering, naked body laid crippled in the pan which she had hollowed out. The earth sizzled; embers flickering at the edge of the basin as she hit the earth like a meteorite. Wingspan tattered and broken, her skin was blistered, bruised and bloodied. She was far from home now. Far from the safety and security of the divine abyss where she originated from, the dirty blonde’s glowing electric eyes slowly peered out from her burnt eyelids. As if she was in a trance, she laid still for a moment. A mental block was apparent.

 

Pain slowly began to riddle her body. Like venom which poisoned her veins. This world was cold. Vicious. The heavens had clouded over, evening slowly falling. Condense and swelling, the rains soon came. Each drop was gentle on her skin’ disintegrating into her raised hair follicles as her vulnerable frame began to drench. Washing away the blood as well as encouraging it from her more concerning wounds, Azazel slowly sat herself up. She was emotionless. She held nothing in her eyes. No love. But no hate. Her mind was empty. Her wings heavily following behind her as she moved. Slowly and painfully, the angel stumbled to her feet from her foetal position. She let her azure eyes fall on this new world which she had been banished to. Her body felt heavy. The air was thin and the oxygen felt like shards of glass which were cutting her lungs inside as she inhaled deeply. The scent of burning flesh and singed hair was apparent; obvious on her dirty, pale skin. Her blonde had dulled. Her radiance had been torn from the youngest. 

 

Scared. Alone. Azazel slowly took a step forward; wincing in pain as she did so. Her toes brushed in the hoarse dirt as she dragged her feet. She was so lightweight in heaven. Every movement was fluid and elegant. But now; she felt jagged. As if she her ankles had a ball and chain. Or as if someone was applying pressure to her shoulders to hold her firmly down. An invisible embrace of banishment. Everything seemed so straining on her small frame.

 

“M-Michael?”

 

His beautiful face was the last she remembered gazing at. 

 

“Sa-Samael?” 

 

His voice was the last she remembered. Panic began to bleed into her. Her bloodshot eyes began to widen, head jolting around as she began to stumble. Her body shook in pain and dismay. 

 

“Camael? Gabriel? Raziel?! Raphael?!” Azazel’s voice began as nothing more than a mere whisper, but its volume continued to raise as she began to pace. Her movement had no fluidity. It was scarce and had no purpose. The air continued to scratch at her lungs, Azazel gritting her teeth together as she fought back the tears. 

 

“No..” The young angel was scared and confused. Anxiety had sky rocketed as her nude physique darted around like a wildebeest who had just been captured and caged. 

“Selaphiel! Azrael! Ur~” 

 

Azazel stood dead. Tears had since left her swollen eyes as reality shrouded her. All of a sudden, that name was a bitter pill to swallow.

 

“Uriel..” 


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