"Pavel, could you see if the door is locked?" They had been doing nothing for far too long and Azrael was becoming antsy. Despite having Pavel at his side again, his nerves remained overwhelming. Fortunately, Pavel had free reign of the basement, so it could be put to good use.
From where he was pressed against his torso, Pavel peered up at him with a quizzical look before he glanced over at the door too. He puffed out his cheeks for a moment in tired contemplation. "Why?"
Azrael clicked his tongue and ran his fingers through Pavel's tangled hair before taking his hands in his. Turning to properly face the bruised man, he tried to keep his despair to himself. In the most logical voice he could manage, he said, "You aren't chained down, so you can move freely. If the door is unlocked, there's a chance you can escape. They won't expect it, so you'll have time to run."
Pavel's eyes widened with palpable distress and he shook his head violently. "Absolutely not! I am not going to leave without you." In his panic, he wrenched their clasped hands against his chest, refusing to let Azrael go without some kind of struggle. Azrael felt the anxious pounding of Pavel's heartbeat through the fingertips pressed firmly to the backs of his hand. Pavel's breathing was stilted, his face growing red from lack of oxygen.
Staring at their entwined fingers, Azrael heaved a heavy sigh. He couldn't pretend to be strong anymore so his voice was small and exhausted. It wasn't what he wanted to do but he knew Pavel was easily swayed when Azrael allowed himself to show some vulnerability. If he didn't demand, if he begged, if he pleaded, Pavel would listen. "…It's not like I want that either." Azrael's breathing was laboured too, disjointedly joining Pavel's, as he thought about how to convince him that this was the best option they had. And it's not even a good goddamn option. "I have a better chance of surviving in here than you do. We don't… we can't guess what that man will do but I don't want you suffering anymore. They can torture me all they like once you're gone; they will get nothing from me, anyway."
Nothing was said for a long while.
"…Do… do you think I can bear the idea of you suffering in my place?" Barely a whisper, as if he was terrified to speak any louder. Despite that, it was assertive and bore into Azrael completely. Pavel spoke in a hushed shout, "You know damn well how I feel about you. I will not be tormented any less being free when I know the man I love is still here and I can't help." Between the two of them, Pavel was far braver than Azrael, being able to speak of his feelings so easily. "I would rather die here, with you, than live out there without you."
Azrael choked back his desire to spill his guts to Pavel right there. To tell him that he loved him too but he knew that it was not the time. Emotions were already running high and he couldn't count on himself to keep in control if he didn't keep thinking only of escaping. "I know, Pavel. I do." He couldn't bring himself to say those words back to Pavel yet. Azrael didn't deserve to, not when he was still in harm's way. "We just need to explore every one of the limited options we have."
Exasperated, disappointed, or plainly frustrated – maybe a mixture of all three – Pavel turned his head away, staring at that steel door on the opposite side of the room. Azrael could see him grinding his teeth, clenching his jaw and he was tempted to ask him to not be so angry when Pavel said, "It's not unlocked, so what's the point?"
Narrowing his eyes, a frown on his lips, Azrael couldn't help but become slightly annoyed at this statement. Unable to keep his thoughts to himself, he snapped, "Why didn't you just say that instead of arguing with me?" His tone was harsher than he had intended it to be and he immediately regretted it when Pavel looked back at him with a hurt expression. The last few days had been taxing, physically and emotionally, so it was easy to understand why his outburst caused tears to well in those amber eyes.
His grasp on Azrael's hands loosened a little as he blinked his welling tears back rapidly. "I'm sorry. Please, don't be mad at me. I'm sorry."
Azrael's breathing stuttered, regret flooding him. "No apologies between us, remember?" He quickly wrapped his arms around Pavel's body in a loose embrace, not wanting to overwhelm him. He pressed his face to Pavel's shoulder, unintentionally wedging the body of his horn into the crook of it. "And, if anything, I should apologise. I'm not angry, I just… I want to get you out of here." It was rare for him to be so unable to hold his tongue or reign in his emotions but, again and again, Pavel brought it out of him.
Fortunately, the tears that had been threatening to fall from Pavel's eyes seemed to have dried up quite quickly and his hurt dispersed as well. He knew Azrael was only annoyed because he felt helpless. So forgiving. As best as he could, Pavel wrapped his arms around Azrael's waist from where they were pinned to his sides by the embrace he was already in. "We will both get out."
Azrael believed Pavel's words less than he believed his own.
"Of course." All they had to do was play the waiting game. As insane making as it was, it was really the only choice they had left if they wanted to stay together. "Of course, Pavel."
-
Snapping his eyes open at the intrusive sound of the door unlocking, Azrael lurched onto his haunches and bundled Pavel's waking form behind him. It was an awfully harsh impact with the wall, but he seemed to know not to panic as he slowed his breathing soon after he woke up fully. He didn't even whisper a panicked question. Azrael locked eyes with the intruder, a snarl at the back of his throat, rabid hostility in his eyes.
"Such a vicious guard dog." That arrogant voice sent a wave of goosebumps across his skin and Azrael unconsciously flared out his wings to block Pavel from that man's view. Whipping his tail back and forth, he made an effective barrier between Pavel and that man. Du Rand stepped out of the enshrouding darkness beyond the door and into the painfully bright basement. "I can see why you've attached yourself so thoroughly to him, Pasha. I raised you well, it seems."
"Don't talk to him." Azrael barked, spitting his words at him like they were weapons. If he sees a dog, I'll play the part of a dog. Du Rand wasn't stupid enough to step into the three-quarters of the room that Azrael had access to, so words were all he could use. Growling, he spoke again, "You don't have the right."
Seemingly amused, the man smirked as he sat down on the concrete floor, just in front of the door. Crossing his legs, he never once took his piercing gaze off of Azrael's crouched body. I can tell that much, even if his face is blurry. Straight backed and wearing a plush suit, Du Rand was the polar opposite of Azrael's savage, hunched posture with no clothes to cover him. How could someone tell who the real vicious monster was if they looked at them? Azrael bared his fangs and waited.
Finally, Du Rand said, with a delicately twisted smirk, "I have the sole right to talk to him." Everything he said with a disarming smile, he said as an absolute, leaving no room for arguments. Even as Azrael faced the man down, there was something deeply unsettling and overpoweringly awry about the energy he projected. Something oppressive, something that felt older than even the universe itself, as inconceivable as that was. "I must admit, I didn't expect you to care so deeply for mon lapin. Perhaps even animals can sometimes fight their instincts, even if it's for someone else's belongings. You know that it is a sin, to covet another's things? Very bad."
He's not a fucking thing and he's certainly not yours. He didn't know why he didn't say it but something about those pallid grey eyes stopped the words in his throat. Azrael couldn't help but glance down at the way his hands were bent, the way he was so ready to launch himself at the intruder, to kill him, to tear him apart limb from limb. Unable to refute those words, Azrael ignored them. Words were just words, they meant little when they came from the mouth of a thing like Du Rand. "What is it that you want?"
"A civilised conversation. Can't you tell?"
Du Rand was mocking him, the pointed use of the word 'civilised' being a jab at his savage behaviour, but Azrael didn't let his guard down. He couldn't let Du Rand worm himself under his skin because he knew that would mean that he would lose. If he lost whatever game this was, Pavel wouldn't be safe. Settling his disgust, Azrael willed himself to calm down, to let his barbs wash away.
"Fine. A conversation. Say your piece." Azrael didn't make a move to sit more comfortably. He didn't know what that thing was – there was no chance Etienne Du Rand was just a man, that he was only human – so Azrael couldn't risk giving him an opening. Even though he kept a distance, lurking in the safety of the one-quarter Azrael couldn't reach, there was not a single drop of fear in his body. Azrael knew that it didn't just stem from baseless arrogance; Du Rand held all the cards.
His wicked grin turned broad, splitting his face apart unnaturally. "That's better. A guard dog should behave." Du Rand patted his hands on his thighs and made a strange noise at the back of his throat, voice just shy of gentle. For some reason, the accent that had been slightly obvious in their last confrontation had become inhuman around the edges. "You know what? I'm curious. Will you indulge me in my questions?"
Suspicions rose but Azrael knew he had to obey. He could feel Pavel's warmth pressing itself to the space between his wing joints, hands resting on his waist, and it brought some needed relief. The thrashing of his tail against the concrete ceased. "Go ahead."
"Why are you bothering to resist what's happening?" Du Rand's voice was disgustingly sincere as he asked that question. It was as if he thought resigning oneself to one's fate, regardless of what it was, was better than anything else. It made sense that he thought that, considering his hands were involved in trafficking people. He had the detached curiosity of a wealthy businessman, which was perfectly suited for that. "It'll be futile in the end, don't you know that?"
Puzzled, Azrael lifted his chin, scrutinising Du Rand. "Don't be certain that I can't kill you." Words were not his strong suit; he couldn't hold his own if Du Rand wanted a philosophical debate on the nature of living things. If he couldn't understand someone's desire to survive, then something clearly didn't work in that twisted mind of his. Azrael just had to make sure that man couldn't get past him, that's all he had to focus on. "Only the weak roll over and give up."
"Against me?" An unsettlingly high, light-hearted laugh, one that should belong to a gentle man. It sounded like an imitation of a person. "You are the weak." Once more that oppressive incorrectness emanated from Du Rand and it felt like the burning lights in the basement dimmed. A black fog, heavy and ominous, seemed as if it was descending upon the three of them there, shrouding them in a sick miasma. "Go on. Ask me a question then."
Ah, it's this kind of game.
Azrael considered for a moment, trying to think of something so he didn't squander his opportunity but he struggled to come up with anything. All he could do was stare at his adversary and ask, "What are you?" and hope he would answer truthfully or in a way that Azrael could understand. Du Rand seemed to have a tendency to talk in riddles or circles and this was something he would likely keep close to his chest. It was likely his trump card.
Du Rand hummed a noise that seemed to say he was surprised or, perhaps, contented with this question. He gave an emphatic sigh and Azrael only just realised that he hadn't heard him utter a single breath since he'd entered the room. "Now that's a good question. I thought you were an imbecile, seeing as my brother barely bothered to teach you literacy but you are fairly astute. Clever dog, it seems." Du Rand was dragging out answering the question as he fell into silence. Toying with Azrael's nerves.
The aching pipes surged forward to fill the quiet as they always seemed to do down here. There was never a momentary reprieve from their incessant wailing. Droning on and on and on, it was like a hellish chorus. Like crickets in an otherwise silent field at night, horribly, uncomfortably loud.
Just as Azrael was about to run out of patience, as if Du Rand could feel his irritation, he briefly dropped that mocking smile and spoke again. Eyes shaded, incredibly off-putting and gruesome. "What am I, huh? What am I not?" He rested his head in his hand and leaned forward, smirking again at Azrael. The expression didn't reach his eyes at all. "I'm everything. I'm everyone. I can even be the Earth too. Isn't that intriguing?" Du Rand lurched even further forward, as if he was intending to enter into the three-quarter's of the room Azrael could reach. In a vicious hiss, a twisted smile baring all of his teeth, the man, who wasn't a man, answered Azrael in a way he could understand, "I. Am. You, dragon." One of his impossibly pale eyes flashed, became a slit-pupiled amaranth for hardly a moment. It was gone before any of them blinked.
Everything clicked into place and Azrael did his best to keep his repulsion from flashing across his face. It made sense, now, what Pavel had said to him. How it was his face that hurt him even though it couldn't possibly have been him. How there had been such a perfect replica of him, beyond it being a mask or makeup. It was that bastard all along.
Accusatory, horrified, Azrael snarled, "You-"
"No need to spell it out if you've already gotten the point. Smart little dragon." Du Rand's voice was smug, confident, and mocking, mocking, mocking. He sat right at the cusp of the three-quarters, just far enough that Azrael could barely scratch him even if he stretched out but close enough that he could now see his pallid eyes clearly. Cold, empty, like an antique doll. It struck him how there had never really been anything in the gaze of that man-shaped thing in the few times he looked at Azrael, like the skin Du Rand wore wasn't real and neither was whatever was inside it. "My question."
Azrael nodded, still reeling.
"Did you know that if you return my Pasha to me, I will let you go?" Du Rand was suddenly standing, pacing in the one-quarter he was out of Azrael's reach. It wasn't anxious pacing; it was the calculated prowling of a predator watching its prey, waiting for it to lower its guard so it could attack. "Hm?"
It was hardly a question. Once again, Du Rand was ridiculing him with an unthinkable request. Everything he said was a taunt. Azrael opened his mouth to spit his response when he was almost shoved over and a flash of gold shot past him. He looked up as Pavel stood in front of him, blocking his view of Du Rand completely.
"Take me then! Let him go."
"Pavel, no!" Panic swelled and burst in his chest as Azrael launched forward to grab Pavel before he did anything to endanger himself further but he was too late. I'm always too goddamn late. His hands grasped empty air, clasping onto nothing.
Du Rand moved in the blink of an eye, impossibly quick, and he had Pavel by the wrists in that damn quarter of the basement Azrael couldn't reach. A smug grin warped Du Rand's blurry face and a burning numbness shot through Azrael's limbs.
He couldn't take his gaze off that panicked but resolutely confident face that Pavel looked at him with. It seemed that, despite his fear, he would be alright with whatever the outcome was, if Azrael would live. Slipping from his grasp, Azrael felt the last of his control shatter like glass on the concrete ground and he charged forward, intent on getting those filthy hands off of Pavel.
Laughter, harsh and stilted, filled the room as Azrael lunged and fell, tugged, writhed, pulled, and pulled and pulled and failed. Nothing he did could break him free of those chains around his ankles. Tethered to that back wall, Azrael was as useless as a muzzled dog. The harmony of that inhuman laugh and the creaking of the metal in the walls began to swarm his brain. At the edge of his goddamn three-quarters, Azrael fell to his knees and grasped at his head.
His skin felt like it was splitting and he could barely bite back his howls, his wails of agony threatening to spill from his lips as he did everything in his power to keep himself in this body. Tears blurred his vision even more and, with all of the rage that festered in his chest, Azrael watched as Du Rand shoved Pavel to the unforgiving ground. A foot pressed onto his skinny back and he let out a whimper as he stared at Azrael, dread-filled. That confidence was wavering.
More pressure and Pavel could barely rasp a breath through his bruising ribs, his crushing lungs wailing in protest. He reached out his arms, but he was just out of reach, even when Azrael reached out his hands to meet him. The pads of his fingers just grazed the very tips of his black-taloned fingers.
It was all hopeless.
It always had been.
"See, Pasha? His lust means nothing, he can't help you. Can't you see that I am the only one that has ever truly loved you?" Du Rand crouched down now, foot still planted on Pavel's back. He yanked his head up and back with a fistful of hair and his ears, almost wrenching them straight off of his skull. Impassioned, his voice dripping with the thick French accent he had all but obscured, the sound of it even further from human than it had been before, he said, "I have never asked for much. You just have to pay some pittance and I can devote myself to you for the rest of your days. I've always been good to you, haven't I? Fed you, clothed you, housed you. Tended to your wounds and held you whenever you cried. What can this beast bargain for you? What can he give you, what life can he promise?"
Tears poured down Pavel's face. His words were a desperate rasp, but he spoke, stuttering, despite the pain. "You don't… m-mutilate people you, ah- love," Pavel's eyes scrunched almost shut from the agony, though they never left Azrael's desperate form, "L-life… is meaningless if… I'm not with him."
Du Rand scoffed.
Against the crushing of his ribs and the bloodying of his scalp, as chunks of hair were wrenched free, Pavel gathered his strength and spoke clearly, refusing to stammer this time. "Do… do what you want to me – I'm yours – but you promised to let him go. Stay true to your word." Keeping his eyes trained on Azrael, Pavel mouthed something to him, unwilling to let Du Rand hear his tender, final words: Live well for me. I love you, always.
Azrael finally allowed his body to collapse fully to the ground, his head to the concrete floor and his hands still pressed to his temple, grasping the roots of his horns. He couldn't do anything but accept this. He knew he couldn't win; he was weak and useless in the face of that behemoth. This was an enemy he didn't know how to beat. A formless, changing enemy he could not best, no matter how desperately he struggled.
Despite all of this fighting, Azrael had to let Pavel slip out of his hands and back into the destructive grasp of that fucking monster. All of this had happened in an instant and he couldn't quite bring himself to accept that this was reality. Azrael gathered all of his remaining courage, wanting to, at the very least, tell Pavel that he cared for him. That he loved him back.
That he always had.
As Azrael opened his mouth to let fly his final words to the man he loved, he was cut off by the sound of an abrasive clap, obnoxious and sarcastic. Azrael couldn't help but look back up, straining his neck.
"How poetic." The very image of a villain, Du Rand had stood back up, though his foot still stayed on Pavel's back, keeping him pinned to the floor. He passed a lazy, dismissive glance between Pavel and him, his face blank, somewhat stern yet not frowning. No emotion could be read on his porcelain face, which remained unweathered by time and age – god knows how long he'd walked the Earth, how many people he had hurt, how many lives he had destroyed. Hauntingly, disturbingly beautiful, it began to exude complete abhorrence as the machinations of his mind began to turn. The lifeless sheen of his eyes turned unnaturally bright.
Du Rand's mouth curled into something that could never be described as a smile. It was a sick perversion of the pleasant expression, lips twisting, baring his teeth as the corners downturned. Etienne Du Rand looked as if the skin he lived in didn't know how to express just how corrupt the creature inside of it was. That gentle voice of his was not human at all anymore, stilted and jagged. Off-kilter and ancient. "Hah. I can't blame anyone but myself for raising a trusting idiot. I was much too kind to you, Pasha.
You thought I wouldn't lie?"