Dry-eyed, Azrael lay in bed, staring at the wall as he curled his wings and tailed around his body. The room was dark, so all he could was the slight static of the night as the white of the wall was bathed grey. It was tranquil, peaceful to the extreme. A scene that should lull him to sleep.
Sleep didn't come.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"I love you," he said.
Pavel's voice swirled through Azrael's mind, a whirlpool that was dangerously close to sucking him deep down into the murky depths. He said he would wait, but what right did Azrael have to the time he was giving to him.
What value did Pavel see in his love?
Restless in the darkness, Azrael's heart pounding as loud as a drum in a parade, he did his best to keep his breathing steady and his mind free of concern. His hands were clenched tight as he tucked them close to his chest, a desperate act of self-soothing in the wake of the tumultuous emotions that bore into him.
Pavel had very firmly asserted he was going to sleep on the sofa tonight, telling Azrael that he thought it was a good idea to give him some time to himself. He didn't want to impose or make it seem like Azrael had to come to a decision about what he wanted now by spending the night together. Once late evening had rolled around, Pavel had practically pushed him upstairs to separate them.
While Azrael could appreciate the sentiment, there was something heavy that settled in his stomach as he saw the vacant space next to him. The emptiness that had always been there but, when Pavel was in Azrael's house, it was filled with his warmth. Pavel was here but that emptiness remained.
As he lay in bed, hollow yet heavy, Azrael heard the sound of shuffling coming from downstairs and couldn't help but focus on it. Pavel must have been restless. Azrael could hear the tap in the kitchen turning on, then off, the clink of a glass and the buzz of the overhead lights cutting through the silence. It was deeply surreal for him to experience the presence of another person living their own life when Azrael was so used to this house being just a shell.
A satisfied smile danced across his lips at the thought that Pavel could be living here for the foreseeable future. While he hadn't had the chance to get the full story about the bird man and the supposed cancellation of a lease, Azrael thought it was safe to assume Pavel's backup home was Azrael's place. Considering what he heard about the housing market from the news and the murmurings he caught on the street, it would be a nightmare to find another place to live when he was on such a tight budget. Pavel could stay as long as he needed.
Not like that was ever a question.
At the comforting thought of Pavel's presence in his head, Azrael found that his eyes were finally ready to slide shut. Sleep was creeping in, its gentle hands caressing him into oblivion and he welcomed it, sinking into the mattress. The tight clench of his fist loosened and his body relaxed entirely into the static of the night.
Bang!
Shattering glass.
Yelping, pleading.
Azrael's eyes snapped open and he launched himself out of bed. Uncaring of his state of undress, he vaulted over the bannister and fell down to the bottom of the stairs. The height caused a painful jolt through his knees and up his back, but Azrael had landed safely so he barely waited a moment before barrelling down the short hallway. He crashed into the kitchen abruptly.
He hadn't adjusted to the blinding light that bathed the room but, after a moment of being stunned, Azrael fixated on the source of the begging. That pleading, that sheer desperate panic calling into the night was muffled behind a violent, intruding hand.
Pavel's eyes were so wide there was more white than amber, frenzied, and manic as he searched for an escape. He thrashed under the weight of the man that was perched on his body, terrified to the point that he didn't seem to notice Azrael was there. Rage swirled deep in him and his gaze flicked up to the perpetrator of this attack.
Black wings feathered and delicate.
That pointed face that had left no lasting impact on Azrael was now back in front of him. Now he wouldn't walk away. He wouldn't turn his back in a display of hubris.
Without hesitation, he lunged forward.
Fingers bent, talons pointed forward, Azrael was aiming for something vital. He wanted to rip flesh, to tear that man apart until not even an inch of the bird remained intact. Azrael would paint the white walls, the white tiles and his white scales crimson. Those filthy hands of his would pay for laying themselves on Pavel.
Moments before he could make contact, a sickening thud rang through Azrael's skull, a sharp pain at the top of his spine, and he went tumbling down to the ground, flying past Pavel and crumpling into a heap. Agony surged down his back like a roaring fire, every bone of his body ached as if he had been beaten within an inch of his life.
Every breath was strenuous, agony-filled, and all Azrael could move was his eyes. Panicking, he swivelled them to keep his vision locked on Pavel but he had angled in a way that left him unable to see anything but his legs. The tips of the raven's wings obscured the rest.
"You stupid bird, did you not think that the other one would hear you?" An unfamiliar voice to Azrael's eats, but he saw the way Pavel's legs tensed before the thrashing began again, tenfold stronger. "I should have let him kill you if not for the inconvenience that would cause."
His words were laced with a heavy accent, even though it seemed like he was trying his best to disguise it. The way his voice curled around certain words reminded him of Pavel's speech so Azrael thought it safe to assume this new man was probably Russian too. Attempting to get a good look at the intruder's face, Azrael soon realised that he was standing too far out of his limited field of view for him to stand a hope in hell of seeing him.
Choking out Azrael's words, more of a wheeze than a threat, he tried to struggle up off the ground. "Who the fuck are you? Get out of my goddamn house!"
The clipped sounds of a hard-soledcshoe echoed against the tiled ground towards Azrael. Closer and closer until it was just behind him, standing at the back of his head silently when a weight was pressed to his skull. Azrael could feel the sole of a shoe crushing into his head, threatening to crack the horns off his skull with the pressure between that foot and the floor. He bit back his hiss of pain. Azrael refused to show weakness now, not in front of this invader.
"Ha. You're in no place to make demands." The pressure lifted off his head and Azrael heard the sound of fabric rustling, the clicking of weathered joints before the shadow above him came a whole lot closer. A hand grabbed his horn and twisted his neck until Azrael's face was forced in the direction of the hidden intruder. "I'm here to retrieve some property, there's no place for you to interfere." His eyes surveyed Azrael for a brief moment. "Though you could be a helpful asset for us."
Azrael's face crashed into the tiles as the man suddenly released his grip on his head and the echoing sounds of footsteps vanished out of the kitchen, receding into the hallway. His voice sounded out again, quiet, as if having a conversation but the voice of the other person never responded. A phone call?
Pain echoed through Azrael's head from the impact but he focused in on the hazy features of the man he had briefly glimpsed. Mid-forties to early fifties, auburn hair whitening at the temples but the only pronounced wrinkles were the frown lines about his lips and the creasing between his eyebrows. Cold eyes, but the backlighting made naming the colour hard with Azrael's fuzzy vision. He could have called him classically handsome if he wasn't threatening Pavel and imposing on their home.
There are many humans that Azrael had seen over his years of life and he didn't make time to specifically remember all of their faces but this man was certainly completely foreign to him. However, that made sense - the man didn't seem to know Azrael and this attack seemed to be for the purpose of 'retrieving' Pavel. Undoubtedly, he was someone from Pavel's past, be that the recent past or the more distant variety.
Azrael didn't know of the story about the bird man and he had remained uncomfortably silent this whole time. Testing his luck, cutting through the muffled sobs and begs Pavel was still uttering, Azrael called out to him. "Why are you doing this? You're just his fucking landlord, what more do you want?"
A scoff. "You're not that smart, are ya?"
Lips curling back, irritated, Azrael bit back his rage. If he could move, it would take everything in him to not kill the man on the spot for the way he was hurting Pavel. How fortunate for him. "I make no claim to be. Who are you people?"
Silence stretched on – not silence, Pavel's feet were still kicking against the floor and his fingernails were scratching against the tiles in rhythm to his sobbing - but the bird didn't speak. Azrael waited and waited until, finally, he answered, "You're gonna die. Dead men don't need to know things."
Normally, such a plain declaration of intentions wouldn't phase him. Azrael had nothing to live for During most of his life and he knew he could usually get out of it anyway.
Not now.
Azrael was paralysed by god knows what means so they could do anything they wanted to him. Even though Azraelvwanted to fight, to defend Pavel, all he could do was lay on the ground, and hope that his movement would come back soon. He didn't want to leave him all alone in the hands of those men but it seemed Azrael had no choice.
As he desperately considered his incredibly limited options, those hard-soled shoes made their way back into the kitchen, stopping short of where he could guess Pavel's head was. His whimpering cut out but his breathing became incredibly laboured.
"Tie up our rabbit, we don't want him running off when you put him in the car." Azrael heard rustling fabric, the sound of what could be rope meeting the floor before it was roughly tied together. Pavel's mouth was clearly no longer covered because whatever noises of fear he had been making were far clearer. The man ignored Pavel. "Once he's secured, help me get the dragon in the back too. Monsieur Du Rand wants him alive, for some reason."
Dread pooled in Azrael's stomach. A flicker of recognition flooded his brain. Monsieur Du Rand?
As he lay there thinking, scared and confused, Azrael almost didn't catch the sound of those clicking shoes that had vanished out of the house making their return, followed closely by the sticky sound of bare feet on tile. Azrael's eyes stared off into the abyss as worry clouded his vision but the flicker of movement in the corner of the room brought him back. It brought Azrael back just in time to see that shoe come swinging towards his face before making sickening contact.
Everything went black.