I watch the long limbed fairy stalk out of the room in a dizzying haze, her movements mechanic and never faltering. She looks like a puppet on strings, as though each motion of her body is manipulated by another, each word that is voiced from her lips a noise through a filter of her own cries for help. Azrael hasn't given anyone a chance in his place, he wants complete and utter control.
If only he knew he was a piece short of the game.
After she has gone, I take a moment to let my composure slide ever so slightly, racking my fingers through my hair as I attempt to make light of the situation, but fail miserably.
