#anendlesssaga

@an-endless-saga /

//premise: Azzy takes advantage of the freedom Viren/Rhys's father gives him to have his own personal missions?? 👀//

Hypaxia watched him torture the latest assassin. She could still feel the marks and cuts she'd landed before she had subdued her herself. 

She stood by the window, watching the moon as the assassin tried and tried to not break. 

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Hypaxia looked to him, she sat on the edge of her bathtub watching him clean the blood. 

"Why are you doing this Azriel? Why are you coming to my aid when - well we know what people say about me."

She had heard the rumors, how she had gone mad, how she was broken and unfit for her throne. 

Her fingers swirled in the water. 

"Why do you bother with me?"

Why do you keep coming back even when I do not call you?

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐌, he knew it existed, but he did nothing to stop it. To stop it from feeding on his very soul... Even as he heard the screams and the pleading once the assassin broke, he didn't let up.

He wouldn't until they were dead. Slowly, too, for he didn't care to give a quick death.

Azriel methodically wiped the blood from his hands, the blood that had stained his scarred skin over and over. Sometimes he wondered if it ever really came off, or if he wandered through life with the dripping lifeblood of so many enemies and victims on him, visible to all around him.

It took him a moment, Azriel not even looking in Hypaxia's direction, when he finally spoke in answer to her. ❝ Does it really matter why? ❞ he questioned instead of giving her a direct reply.

@an-endless-saga / *

𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃, but Aleksander watches Anastasiya. His gaze never drifts, never finds another target. She's shimmering with power, but she's also drowning in the midst of the gods only know what. Is it because of Jurian? Is it something else?

Perhaps a part of him doesn't want the answer--

❝ I know, ❞ he says with a sigh. ❝ I know her power will swallow her up whole if it isn't-- if we don't do it right. Sometimes, I feel the same of mine. That there's this rage I cannot fight, this need to make the whole world, the whole universe, suffer and feel everything I do. ❞

Because there's a great deal of pain. Of grief. Of sorrow and loss and hurt and anger inside of him.

But Aleksander shakes his head when Rhysand mentions Azriel coming. ❝ No, I'm... I don't need him. ❞ Sometimes, he hates that there's this chasm of a distance between him and his twin. Sometimes, Aleksander wishes it could be like before.

That's a foolish wish. He knows it, but there's still a part of him, outside of the rage, that holds to hope.

It's only then that he looks back to Rhysand. ❝ This power. Our power. What-- What needs to be done, to access it? What do we do? ❞

@an-endless-saga /

The memories were bad today, but they always were when it was nice out. She couldn't even enjoy the pretty day out without feeling the pavement under her, or seeing her father slowly die.

She looked to her wrist, the blood slow and congealing. She'd been at it for a while now. No Billy to occupy her now. He was out, getting supplies, getting whatever he needed for them to keep going.

The safehouse was nice but it felt empty without him. Like she'd felt without her father those first few years. A thing that existed with no heart or soul left.

She didn't hear the door open, she didn't think she would have turned if she had.

𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆, to get what they needed. Keep his head down, and talk only to the right people-- Too many still hunted him; he knew that.

Billy comes into the small room, puts down the bag of supplies. Her back is to him, and he pauses. ❝ Hey? ❞ He steps closer, boots heavy on the hardwood floor. ❝ You okay? ❞ Because she doesn't seem like she is.

It's too quiet, too silent.

@an-endless-saga​ sent: Helene crawled into his lap plucking the quill from his fingers. She snuggled against him whining slightly.

"Nope, no more work you're mine now."

Azriel frowned as he looked at the quill. He wasn’t sure what was going on but now he was concerned. “I thought we were at a party...” he replied as he looked at her, that concern showing on his features.

Shaking her head, Cassandra looked between her father and Samiel. She didn’t need water. Or to lie down. She was fine, really. The necklace. It just...

It was hard to say what triggered her visions. What caused the images to come slamming into her brain when they did. They could be tied to the necklace. Or it could be that just happened to be what she was holding at the time.

Comforted by both the presence of her father and Samiel, and her father’s shadows, the brunette finally found her words. Jumbled though they were. “He’s here. The one whose arrival the Cauldron foresaw. He comes, searching. Seeking. Forever will he hunt til he finds her... Finds me.”

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She’s not listening to him. At all. Literally couldn’t care less what he’s saying. The only reason she had bothered to look at him was because the bar was across the way. She used to get by on sparkling cider and ginger ale. Then she met these people. Why? A literal curse they all were. “I’m sorry. But in the words of a great poet named Taylor Swift? I forgot that you existed.”