#askaffininty

"What do you-" Bazel was interrupted by a loud wail from the Fearless sitting on what remained of his sofa. 

"No!" He responded. "Why do you keep coming here?! I don’t have anything for you!" 

The Fearless tilted its head in confusion and gave a soft whine. 

"That’s exactly what we do!" Bazel exclaims, pulling back a curtain to reveal a field of hot springs full of wounded angels, all bathing to help regenerate their broken bodies. 

"How rude!" One of them cries. "This is a bathing area, and you’re giving people a tour?! We’re all naked!" 

"Sorry…" Bazel says sheepishly. "But, you know… they asked. And it’s not like we wear much when we’re out walking around."

Time seemed to slow for Bazel. 

He was staring death in the face, and he was rooted to the spot. throughout the chaos and madness around him, he could see the deadly arrow shooting on a dead-set path towards him. He sent a silent prayer to Jubileus that his brethren would remember the deeds he had done. 

Just as Bazel was ready to accept (for the second time) the sweet embrace of Death, he was roughly knocked to the side. After hitting the ground rather roughly and scrambling to his feet, he saw that it was one of his friends that had saved him.

"Was" being the key term. 

Bazel was grieved and elated at the same time. He had known his friend had told him that they would watch over him in battle, but he didn’t expect them to take a demonic arrow for him in the heat of combat. He spent a moment to kneel by their side and send a prayer of safekeeping to Jubileus. They deserved eternal bliss for everything they had done. 

Getting to his feet, Bazel retrieved his fallen friend’s halo and put it around his wrist for safekeeping. He would be damned if those foul heathens got their hands on the remains of his friend. 

He picked up his fallen staff (knocked out of his hands when he was saved) and scanned the masses of warriors around him for the demon who had shot the arrow. 

That’s an equally horrifying and effective method of protecting the sacred mountain. 

Bazel was slightly disoriented from being tossed to the floor, and blindly kicked his legs in an effort to regain some control over the situation. The claws gently brushing against his body only elevated his panic, and he stilled for a moment in order to think of an escape plan. 

He soon regretted his moment of stillness when the Hatred’s tongue graced the surface of his chest. He was paralyzed for a few moments due to how absolutely revolted he was. He listened to the Hatred speak of how Bayonetta could snap him up for Madama Butterfly, and he silently wished she would. She would undoubtably smell better than the demons surrounding him… He would have to bathe for days to get the foul stench off his skin. On the topic of smell, an odd thought popped into Bazel’s head.