[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjg4LmM1NjIzNC5RWHB5YVdWcy4xAAAA/victoriantext.regular.png[/img][/center] [color=a0410d]Time:[/color] Dawn [color=a0410d]Location:[/color] Aklentroth’s War Room/ Outside the Necropolis [color=a0410d]Interactions:[/color][@FunnyGuy]-Umber [@Eviledd1984]-O’Ner [hr] Azriel watched and listened as Umber explained to her that it was her choice. She knew it was and she knew Umber wouldn’t force her to do anything anymore. She was no longer a child that needed to be told what to do, however she still found herself on occasions looking to Umber for guidance. Perhaps that was something she would always do for the rest of her life. As he crushed the figures he’d conjured in his hand she flinched ever so slightly. He was right, it most likely would sap a vast majority of her strength to fly all the way there. Normally an angel could probably make the flight with no issue, however, she had to work almost twice as hard due to her injury from childhood. This thought alone just fueled Azriel’s irritation and she felt quite a bit more murderous than before. [color=a0410d]”Fine…”[/color] She huffed more to herself as she begrudgingly entered the Amora. She had noticed the unease of the horse, who also seemed unhappy to fly in the Amora. She couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of something for the horse as she understood the dislike of the machine. Sympathy perhaps? Was sympathy an emotion she was truly capable of? This was the thought she pondered as she found a place near a window, but didn’t sit. She would rather be on her feet, prepared for anything that could happen. Despite knowing that it was rare, she had a small fear that something would happen to the Amora and they would go down. She hated not being in control of flying. At O’Ner’s words back to Umber, Azriel couldn’t contain the scoff from escaping her lips. [color=a0410d]”Perhaps you are unaware as to what we Wraiths do, but competence on the battlefield is something we excel at. Defeating a foe, spilling blood, tourture, all these things are a beautiful art and we are artists. We are experts.”[/color] She said as she now looked to O’Ner, a chillingly sadistic grin gracing her lips. It was clear that she found quite a bit of joy in the work she did.