Scapegoat

“What happened to your horse?”

“I haven’t seen you since last winter”

“How much time has passed?”

“You’re nothing but a dirty street rat!”

“The court is simply a game of chess yet to be won.”

“Man should not be able to do such things!”

“Do you know the way to the tavern?”

“What way is the manor?”

“Who is the Lord of these lands?”

“Send me a letter, it will make me feel less lonely.”

“These woods are haunted, you should leave now.”

“Perhaps I’ll write to you.”

“This cannot happen again!”

“Who told you such gossips?”

“It is unseemly for a person of your stature to be out here so late.”

“Get back, real swordplay is at work.”

“There is an army to the north, you’d do well to avoid it.”

“A person like yourself shouldn’t raise their voices too loud.”

“Can I have this dance?”

“Another festival, another year has gone.”

“The court is no place for such behavior!”

“Well, now that you mention it, you do have a bit more lines on your face since last I saw you.” Glaysa gave just the faintest smirk to let the prince know he was teasing. “I certainly can agree, too much time has passed. When was it we last enjoyed a simple moment like this together? Was it the 1700 or 18? Either way, you’ve done better with each century and I have been content to fade into obscurity. ” He motioned a delicate hand to his lush greenhouse.

“The werewolves are… ” He thought for a moment, choosing his words, “a bit of a ‘pet’ project.” Though a part of him would always love Asmodeus, a lot has changed in recent centuries. He enjoyed having his moments away from his duties in Hell. “I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

  Asmodeus waved his hand as if to shoo away a pesky fly. He was not mourning the decades he had not spoken to Glaysa in private, although he would not debate the loss either. What gnawed on him was something different altogether - something which, by the look of him, the other did not seem to understand. But Asmodeus felt no desire to explain his misery to him.

“Apparently not.” He agreed, dusting off a small bit of burnt fur from the shoulder of his shirt. “I may be looking into alternatives if these wolves turn out to be too domesticated for their own good.” The earl noticed his guest’s eyes following Marco as he exited the room. 

“You’re always welcome here, though I can’t promise the level of excitement you’re probably used to.” His home was largely secluded which afforded Glasya with a certain amount of privacy he had grown a bit too fond of.“How is business treating you? Better than my attempts werewolf breeding, I should hope.”

“In my current state of mind, any level of excitement would most likely be enough to kill me.” Asmodeus ran a hand through his hair, tempted to give into the yawn tickling the back of his jaw.

The Zaire Series.

Zaire is my wife’s angel OC who walks the thin line between Heaven and Hell doing favours for both and any dirty deeds that might need to be done covertly.

I love him.

300 x 300

❛ Tomorrow can’t do anything today hasn’t already managed. ❜

❛ You know, I’m not superstitious. ❜

❛ I believe in plenty when there’s reason and evidence to believe. ❜

❛ I don’t believe in anything I can’t see. ❜

❛ The devil’s in the details. ❜

❛ Too many people tell each other not to repress their emotions, to release their feelings, to let the pain go. ❜

❛ I’m gonna tell you something and you’re gonna want to hurt me, but what I say has gotta be said. ❜

❛ I want you to consider my words very carefully and refrain from knocking my teeth out.

❛ Well, when will you know for sure? ❜

❛ Always better dead than forgotten. And no one is ever gonna forget you. ❜

❛ I was using that. ❜

❛ What are you looking at up there? ❜

❛ And people believe that? ❜

❛ You’re not cold? ❜

❛ Cold doesn’t bother me. ❜

❛ This time is my time. ❜

❛ The world’s not what I thought it would be. ❜

❛ I can help you. First, you must do something for me. ❜

❛ You are pretending you cannot believe in impossible things. ❜

❛ None of this feels real. It feels like a dream. ❜

❛ Do you believe in love? ❜

❛ There’s far too many secret societies out there. They have no loyalty and no love. They range from barely competent to deeply dangerous. ❜

❛ You don’t sound like one of us. ❜

❛ I’m not one of you. ❜

❛ You’ve been avoiding me. ❜

❛ I don’t know how not to believe. ❜

❛ And you must walk that road to the end. ❜

Finn, reading the title: 'The Book of Azazel'. You wrote a book?

Azazel: It's gonna be a hit.

Finn, opening to a random page and reading it out loud: 'He dropped his robes, letting them fall in bunches around his sandles. His curls bounced between his shoulder blades, sticking ever so slightly to his glistening back. All that walking had truly shaped him into the ideal man, in idea and form, and I wanted nothing more than to lick the salt off his skin in pure, animalistic pleasure." ...

Azazel: Keep reading!

Finn: "He grabbed me by the waist and together we rolled in a fit of laughter, our lips growing closer, moment by moment.

I laughed. 'Well, we've seen the second coming. What do you say we go for number thr-' AZAZEL YOU CAN NOT HAVE A SEX SCENE WITH JESUS.