#azagi

How long had it been since the party? Since the revelations? Since the fight? Lan had all but lost track of time, darkness surrounding him completely with no way of knowing what day it was, where he was or which way was up. Broken. Weak. Vulnerable. Alone.

Maybe that was what had prompted his next move.

Lan had never been the sort to reach out, seek help, always playing the role of being in complete control of what was happening, situations falling into his favour without question. But this was different. He was out of his depth, and the pool of people he trusted was minimal. He twisted his phone between his fingers before making his final decision.

And then he pressed the phone to his ear, and he waited until someone answered.

"Lemon juice, but... Listen to me here. What if instead of papercuts, I have Azagi get creative with her knife? Papercuts heal waaaaaaay too fast so I wouldn't feel the tickles when I jump in."

When the demon she was after finally caught her eye, she nodded at the seat next to her, urging her to approach. As she did, Daya finally spoke. “Azagi Rabaz, you know...your kind are half as difficult to track as I thought you’d be.” She motioned to the free seat with the wave of her hand, the other swirling the wine gently in it’s glass. “I took the liberty of ordering you a drink. Apologies for not knowing your taste but I hope it suffices.” It was some top shelf, hard liquor. None of this cheap crap places could sell. Only the best for potential partners after all.

"she loves...she loves me...I know she loves me...just keep telling myself...she loves me."

The loss of the wings was something he could deal with however; as the problematic fae had said, there were other fallen he could steal some wings from. No, something else had become apparent, something else that Lan wanted. A feeling. A craving. It had left him questioning, wandering in the dark, off the radar for days in thought.

His thoughts eventually lead him to Azagi’s, a place of comfort to him, of sorts at least. The demon appeared in the bedroom but was surprised it empty, as was the rest of her place. After a brief snoop, he returned to the bedroom, resting on the bed with his back against the headboard, eyes fixed on the door. And he waited.

And waited.

The day had gone, the room completely eclipsed in the same darkness as the night outside when she finally returned. He heard her in the other room but didn’t moved. Continued waiting until the room was lit and he was revealed to her. His voice was flat - emotionless “I wondered when you were going to get back...”

‘I know there’s a lot going on at the moment baby, but I have a surprise for you. If you can spare an hour for little old me? Meet me here:’ 

The text came with an address, an apartment complex just teetering on the edge of Myre Grove, somewhere Lan had spotted on his little expedition with Juliet, something in the window catching his attention long enough to go back for a second look. Of course, the place was occupied, younger faelings making a home and living their best life, unphased by what was currently happening outside their very door.

Lan had no home thanks to the Mer, so he would take someone else's.

His plan had been meticulous, and their deaths had been quick, the flip of his coin enough to distract them as it flew threw the air, catching the light and making it shimmer. With backs turned, he could strike, one getting bludgeoned to the back of the head with an iron pipe, three swings before he swooped over to grab at the others face, letting hellfire engulf his hands until the others face singed and crackled. As the second body collapsed to the floor, he let out a small sigh. 

An unnecessary level of violence, but it was necessary. The fae clearly weren’t just going to hand their home over to a demon.

Lan pulled off his shirt, sticky with fae blood and discarded it onto the crumpled pile of bodies, heading into one of the other rooms to search for something else to wear, rummaging through drawers and closets. To no surprise, nothing would fit his long and slender frame and he slammed the door to the closet in frustration. Luckily, he sensed the demoness’ arrival before he saw or heard her, heading back into the living room, smile creeping across his face as he turned to greet her, arms spread wide to showcase the place as if he had built it from the ground up himself. “Welcome home baby.”

Playing along with Azagi's provocations didn't lead to anything, ever, but it was as fun as it was reckless on both their ends. He didn't really take it seriously most of the time, she and all her wrathy siblings were just... Cut different.

Najelon gave her an up and down judgmental look. Then a mocking chuckle.

"Try."

Dayanara gave a nonchalant shrug and nodded, "bloodshed is merely a part of the way of the warrior. These hands have been covered in it plenty of times Wrathbearer." She shot the demon a sharp smile. "So I'm ready to paint things red. Are you?"