Serpent's Stealth [Set]

[Azrael Devas]

i'll keep you safe from danger
YOU'LL NEVER HURT AGAIN
______________________________________________________

Azrael's annoyance at the need for his partially human form to ingest food was becoming a really common feeling. It was like the more he fed the body, the more it wanted! Gone were the peaceful days of shooting into A Full Plate every other day for a big meal, now he was having at least one meal a day, as well as having to throw together snacks and such. He was pretty sure he was succuming to gluttony. Gluttony, and envy. Envy of all his friends and co-workers flitting around up in heaven whilst he dragged himself around on his feet, having to fill up this body. Which was starting to become like shovelling snow whilst it was snowing- hard work, pointless, and something you're just going to have to do again.

So here Azrael was, having another one of his self-realisation moments, just as he'd had the other day before meeting Gabriel for the first time in several centuries. The feeling that he had been demoted, worsened. Pride. Now he understood why God was so forgiving- this seven deadly sins thing was hard work. But it was true, he was Azrael Devas, slayer of thousands of demons, saviour of the planet from the evil demon Set. And he was sipping coffee, leaning against a dirty café wall, in a t-shirt and beret. Angelic armour, burning sword and beating wings quite amiss.

He'd got to the point where he was justifying his every action, as if to somehow rationalize the reasons that he shouldn't be here. He'd bet his bottom dollar that any angel stuck here like this was going to... well, act out a little. Try to get back to heaven. But it wasn't like he was forcing, breaking his way in, as a demon might try to. He had laid low, for an incredibly long time, making sure nobody questioned why he was unaging, why no human could harm him. Why he had unmentionable skill with bladed weapons, bows and crossbows. Azrael Devas was a very well-behaved angel, and it irritated him that he was still stuck here.

Swallowing another mouthful of the bitter coffee he'd bought from the café he was so nonchalantly leaning against, Azrael's eyeline sunk to people's feet as he watched them pass. All these people in such a big city. All these people that he knew nothing about, and probably wouldn't ever find anything out about anyway. How many of them weren't human? How many were demons, angels, possessed, transformed, dangerous? It was a fascinatingly broad thought that make him drain his coffee and throw it pretty skillfully into the nearest trash can, knowing that thoughts like that were the sign of an idle mind.

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STATUS;
OUTFIT; Clicky
RAMBLINGS; none =]
CREDIT; layout by beellzz from CAUTION

[SET]

the Devil's voice is sweet to hear

______________________________________________________

The world was very different to the one Set remembered, and that was never more apparent than right this instant, when he found himself venturing out alone for the first time, stepping out into this modern world without his high priestess by his side to explain everything to him, to make sure that he understood it all, that he fit in, that he didn't cause too much of a stir or a scene. They needed to be invisible for the time being, they needed to be unseen while he marshaled his remaining strength in preparation for the commencement of his various machinations. He had plans. Big plans. And those plans focused on worship, drawing worship, converting the masses to his cause and gaining faith, belief, the two things he needed if he wished to become more powerful than he currently was. And he truly did. Now he was but a shadow of his former glory, a wraith compared to what he had once been. It wasn't pleasant.

He wished he'd picked somewhere a little more agreeable to spend the afternoon, because this establishment wasn't exactly his idea of... visually tasteful. Not that much of what he saw these days was visually tasteful, the old world had been torn down, paved over, the new one built over the ruins, shopping malls, parking lots, fast food restaurants all going up, making it seem as if it had never been any other way, as if the world had always been as it was, decadent, watered down, faithless, ignorant. Set knew that this lack of faith among the modern populace meant he would have few competitors, at least in comparison to the old days, but the unwillingness to believe in higher powers meant that he could face quite a task in trying to illicit devotion and gain servitude through displays tailored to gain faith and favor.

There was some small comfort though, in knowing that he wasn't the only one who was currently so diminished in power. Things had just been so much more potent in his time, when mankind was still struggling to harness this thing they called "science", when the wonders of modern technology were hundreds of years away from being realized, when they still believed in magic, in creatures lurking in the darkness, ready to seize their children or steal their soul. Fear was belief. Fear was fuel. Father Set had once grown very very powerful on fear alone, but now... now that fear was largely gone. Mankind wasn't afraid of what lay in the darkness anymore because they'd forgotten that there ever was anything to fear. They didn't know.

Set would have to educate them.

But for now, he'd make himself enjoy this cup of coffee, trying to ignore the bitter aftertaste as he took another sip, washing down a bite of barely edible sandwich. It was probably just bitterness and frustration coloring his opinion of the food, but a part of him would never really accept that a god had to cast his lot in with mere mortals, that he had to stomach their presence and act like anyone else. He hated his mortal shell, but he was growing used to it. It didn't disgust him as much as it once did.

That's something I suppose.

STATUS Iunno
OUTFIT; Here!
RAMBLINGS; Corn is overpriced
CREDIT; layout by beellzz from CAUTION

[Azrael Devas]

i'll keep you safe from danger
YOU'LL NEVER HURT AGAIN
______________________________________________________

A chill ran down Azrael's spine. Wind was blowing loudly down the street, and a few women clutched at their hair and held their clothes back from being stolen away from them. Azrael's hair was blown around his head into a mess- blonde fringe hung over his eyes. He ran his fingers back through it to clear his vision again, and squinted as the strong wind made his eyes water. The clouds were very dark, almost like the sun wasn't even out. Rain had been forecast, and was one of the things he hated about Earth. Weather.

He ducked into the nearest café, and would have cursed had he not excersised his strong self-restraint. He hated the rain a lot, and as the familiar spatting sounds met the tiny droplets as they shattered on the window, he was glad he had got inside when he did. He threw himself down onto a table, lacing his fingers nervously on the surface as he watched other people do exactly what he had done, diving into the café to avoid the rain. It was filling up fast, and if he hadn't lunged as skillfully at a table as he had, he'd probablly still be standing out in the rain. Sopping wet hair hanging down his face, clothes getting drenched through. Not for him.

A young waitress with bleached blonde pigtails strutted over to the table, her large earrings swinging as her head bobbed with her steps. She clicked open a biro and took a notepad out of her front pocket. "What'll it be?" She asked, almost too sweetly. Azrael smiled sweetly back at her, but only for a second before he scanned over the menu. Well he could just have a bagel and a coffee, to make sure that it wasn't too obvious that he was just using the place for shelter.

"I'll have the soup please ma'am. The soup and a black coffee."

Azrael didn't look at her again, and he couldn't help but realise she felt a little put out by this. She span around so quickly that her hair spun out into the air, and her heels clicked on the linoleum as she wordlessly answered the order. The café was now bursting at the seams with dripping wet customers desperate for a table, some standing with a cup of coffee to avoid the awkward feeling of sitting opposite a total stranger. Only Azrael and one other man were sitting alone on their respective tables, and as Azrael caught his eye, he raised his eyebrows. It was the kind of wordless gesture that discussed their situation- but Azrael wished he hadn't done it. The man just seemed... off. Uncomfortable, maybe? Or out of place?

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STATUS;
OUTFIT; Clicky
RAMBLINGS; none =]
CREDIT; layout by beellzz from CAUTION