[center][h3]The cost of...[/h3]

[I]Day I, Morning[/i][/center]


Love. For whatever reason, that was the tint of the mist that engulfed his mind as it detached from reality and soared into the unknown. A topic as old as the world to some, and as alien as it was old to others. All creatures felt love, surely, but how they processed it was very different. 

For him love came once. And it took on the shape of a woman. Short, brunette, unassuming. Winged. Sadly... winged. 

She smelled of lavender. It was lovely and wretched. It was too sharp somehow. Yet he couldn’t entirely hate it. He felt like he should, and then he felt like he shouldn’t, his feelings caught in an eternal limbo. 

And now he remembered her touch: strong, loving, his. Nails scraping his chest, fingers pulling at his hair, closing around his throat. She was tactile, not in a good way. She liked touching but often with a blade. Yet... the limbo was a constant. The memories were growing like cancer - more real by the heartbeat. He tried to remember hating her but right now his mind was too weak to resist the pure weight of the emotion.

It was sweet. It was so sweet it made him tremble. It was the warmth of a blanket, no, of an open fire. It was a cradle when you’re feeling weak, a firm push when you have to get up and carry on. It was support, strength… even desire, he remembered that too. 

He remembered touching her body. Tasting her sweat. Licking her tongue, feeling her near…

Azel’s eyes opened slowly, his eyelids pushing the memories apart. His glazed-over eyes were still on her but a slight frown sat between his brows that wouldn’t have been there in his dream. Once, he was hers. Entirely, completely, hers and no one else’s. 

Now she was dead. And oh, what a death that was… Simply spectacular. Whoever had caused was an artist. He had arranged all the parts perfectly, made them even more perfect than life. Disgust and delight entwined until the delight prevailed. 

His lips stretched. [i]Does such a dream mean you’ve awoken again, Ajira?[/i] 

If she had, maybe this time he’d have the courtesy of killing her with his own hands. But then, perhaps she was long gone, never to be reborn again. After all, he’d been young when he’d eaten her remains. Maybe he had consumed all of her. 

Azel pushed himself up with a small sigh. Regret was not what he was feeling right now. More, invigoration. 

The demon pulled the sleeve of his expensive shirt up and checking his even more expensive watch. It confirmed that he had no time to dwell on the past. Not with so much going on in the present. 

His [i]friend[/i] had done it again. Lucien’s violent nature, combined with his overprotectiveness towards Hazumi lead to an explosive combination that often meant trouble for both of them. Arguably it was harder to conceal his crimes while Hazumi was still around, but the police weren’t completely incapable either, and Lucien had been slowly moving into Blackguard territory for months. Once his head was officially their business, Azel would be forced to step down and leave the archangel to his own devices. Their arrangement was only mutually beneficial for as long as Azel’s own life was safe. He was sure he’d mentioned that before.

But if anyone could tell Lucien what to do, it wasn’t him. 
All he had to do was make sure that the Renegade eluded the law enforcers for as long as possible. 

Standing before the mirror, Azel inspected his visage. The shirt had creased; he’d have to take care of it later. The black scruffy hair had to grow shorter. And lighter. Eyes, a deeper crimson, until they became brown. Complexion - richer. As he was listing the differences between him and Lucien, the shape in the mirror was changing. It was a process so natural that he barely noticed it. With all but the body itself.

When it came to the body, a small tingle of either pain or excitement always accompanied the physical change. Then, the real magic. The muscles coiled over each other like the roots of growing trees, bulging with suppressed strength. His frame grew taller and his bones, ironically - less thick. His organs also increased their capacity to fuel a bigger person than he originally was. And then, the wings. Ah, it was oddly pleasant for them to finally emerge after the peculiar itch, to grow out and spread beyond the comprehension of the mirror. 

It was simply fascinating to watch his body morph. 

For a long moment Azel enjoyed the sensation and the sight of Lucien’s naked physique. It was hard not to admire the body of an archangel of his calibre. Even if its sole purpose was to hunt down his own kind. 

Now for the unpleasant part. The clothes and armor, the weapons and the parasite that had corroded his essence. Needless to say that didn’t feel great. But the disguise had to be good enough to fool a Musician so Azel endured. When he was finally finished coughing up black mucus and bits of his own (or Lucien’s) lung, the demon gave the mirror one last glance and headed out the door. 

Of course, every transformation came at a price. For Lucien that was picking up little souvenirs from his angelic victims - ears, eyeballs, tongues, fingers… As he was already considered psychopathic it hardly hurt his criminal profile, but it was very appreciated by his partner. For Azel, the price was a certain hunger. And it was especially strong with those transformations that concealed his very essence.

Naturally, he didn’t go unfed: the Surface had become a lot more demon-friendly and Azel was guaranteed a monthly dose of donated blood, just like everyone else. However, while he could sustain himself off that alone, he much preferred the taste... and texture, of real flesh. 

And that was harder to have. And far less legal. 
But demons were considered pests for a good reason. They had their ways.

For example today. Today his reputation as a man who could get you anything would be rewarded neatly. Now, surely some would call strapping his client to a table and cutting a finger off “breach of trust”. But in his defence, she had received a local anesthetic and was in the hands of a highly skilled, albeit not very [i]famous[/i] surgeon. 

He walked past her with Lucien’s heavy steps and his scowl landed on her face. He could have picked another route, sure. But why should he? Vivian’s game was a dangerous one and he wanted to know just how smart she was. 

Tonight she would kill what was her legal sister. Of course, angels didn’t really have family. But they had learned to pretend. 

Vivian hadn’t learned well. 

“Steep. His fee.” She grunted. 

“Hai.” The surgeon agreed, running the scalpel gently over the flesh of her middle finger. Red blood budded on the thread-thin trail.

“I should have gone to someone else.” She signed. The doctor nodded, a wide smirk stretching his lips. 

Azel cocked an eyebrow at his employee’s gesture but his words addressed his client instead. 

“Be grateful for what you get, woman.” Azel said in Lucien’s voice, simply because he wanted to taste the vibration in his throat and on her face. “If it was up to me you’d be losing more than a finger for what you’re planning.”

This time the woman looked up and there was a twitch of fear on her features. It was oddly satisfying to be on the other side of a threat. He knew now why Lucien enjoyed it. 

Containing his smirk the demon rested a hand on Lucien’s blade and left his domain.