O
ouc
Guest
Original poster
'You're welcome here anytime, Azrael.'
At the time, Azrael hadn't been sure if she even wanted to be welcomed to the Tar Tongue by her fellow fallen. Just 40 years before, they had all seemed as nervous, and maladjusted as she did. Being sent to live along side the mortal beings; It was as insane as it actually sounded. The Earth was not suited for Angel's, and if it had been they wouldn't have been called to heaven to serve. Why send them back then? The question had plagued Azrael's mind every day for 40 years. Neither drug, nor spirit could erase the thought. At least, not entirely. Some days, it was over shadowed by a new experience, or an anger that settled on her heart like a water-logged blanket. Never was the question completely gone from her, however.
Azrael let the strong gusts of early winter wind knock her mass of knotted, and tangled curls about her head. The hefty brown spirals danced, and clung to the air without ceasing. Not even for a moment. No sane (average) person was supposed to be standing nearly 80 stories high, on the roof of a skyscraper. It was the only place in this City that Azrael could get some peace and quiet, however. To the west, she spotted the first signs of a storm on the horizon. Clouds as gray, and thick as ash trampled through the sky as if they were in a hurry to rain on some unsuspecting bystander. With a hardened look of disappointment, Azrael almost turned tail and hauled-ass back to the deserts of Africa. Where everything was on fire with heat, and there was space to run. 'You're welcome here anytime, Azrael.' That's what they said. Reminding herself of that was the only thing keeping her from blinking out of existence and back to the sand dunes she called home. Sucking in a mighty breath of air, Azrael ran the palm of her right hand over her cheek. 'Its time', she thought. It had been time. Shifting her weight onto her heels, the 6'3" amazon of a woman shot into the air like a rocket bound for outer space. Her destination was clear. North, to Tar Tongue.
Azrael, being the extremely anti-social worrier that she was, wondered what her brothers, and sisters would think of her. More than positive that she looked like a wild animal standing on two legs (most of the time anyway), Azrael had tried to clean herself up a bit before she arrived. She wasn't quite sure how well it had worked however, as she hadn't been in the presence of another Angel in over 39 years. With her naturally dark brown skin, sun-bleached and burnt sandy brown hair (that had grown well past her waist, and begun to dread lock in some places), high angular cheek bones, and inky black single lidded eyes (and eye-whites) that made her appear more owl than human; Azrael was certain there was nothing remotely pleasing about her current state. 'You don't care, remember that.' she thought to herself. If she were as welcome as they said she was, then they would accept her. They would shut their gullets and not say a word about her outer appearance. They were her only family, after all.
[I hereby declare this thread open! visit the ooc thread for sign-ups and plot information!]
At the time, Azrael hadn't been sure if she even wanted to be welcomed to the Tar Tongue by her fellow fallen. Just 40 years before, they had all seemed as nervous, and maladjusted as she did. Being sent to live along side the mortal beings; It was as insane as it actually sounded. The Earth was not suited for Angel's, and if it had been they wouldn't have been called to heaven to serve. Why send them back then? The question had plagued Azrael's mind every day for 40 years. Neither drug, nor spirit could erase the thought. At least, not entirely. Some days, it was over shadowed by a new experience, or an anger that settled on her heart like a water-logged blanket. Never was the question completely gone from her, however.
Azrael let the strong gusts of early winter wind knock her mass of knotted, and tangled curls about her head. The hefty brown spirals danced, and clung to the air without ceasing. Not even for a moment. No sane (average) person was supposed to be standing nearly 80 stories high, on the roof of a skyscraper. It was the only place in this City that Azrael could get some peace and quiet, however. To the west, she spotted the first signs of a storm on the horizon. Clouds as gray, and thick as ash trampled through the sky as if they were in a hurry to rain on some unsuspecting bystander. With a hardened look of disappointment, Azrael almost turned tail and hauled-ass back to the deserts of Africa. Where everything was on fire with heat, and there was space to run. 'You're welcome here anytime, Azrael.' That's what they said. Reminding herself of that was the only thing keeping her from blinking out of existence and back to the sand dunes she called home. Sucking in a mighty breath of air, Azrael ran the palm of her right hand over her cheek. 'Its time', she thought. It had been time. Shifting her weight onto her heels, the 6'3" amazon of a woman shot into the air like a rocket bound for outer space. Her destination was clear. North, to Tar Tongue.
Azrael, being the extremely anti-social worrier that she was, wondered what her brothers, and sisters would think of her. More than positive that she looked like a wild animal standing on two legs (most of the time anyway), Azrael had tried to clean herself up a bit before she arrived. She wasn't quite sure how well it had worked however, as she hadn't been in the presence of another Angel in over 39 years. With her naturally dark brown skin, sun-bleached and burnt sandy brown hair (that had grown well past her waist, and begun to dread lock in some places), high angular cheek bones, and inky black single lidded eyes (and eye-whites) that made her appear more owl than human; Azrael was certain there was nothing remotely pleasing about her current state. 'You don't care, remember that.' she thought to herself. If she were as welcome as they said she was, then they would accept her. They would shut their gullets and not say a word about her outer appearance. They were her only family, after all.
[I hereby declare this thread open! visit the ooc thread for sign-ups and plot information!]
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