The Chief of the Fallen

Getting back into the swing of Photoshop as I prepare for the great Patch Polish 2k14 to get the latest designs professionally made, and finally decided to sit down and give my favorite demon his very own playlist. Maybe he'll stop plaguing my thoughts on a daily basis. 

[listen]

Mid-week Words

the Sigil of Azazel, Ch. 29-
"David said goodbye to his fiance that morning. There were no details to warn us with, only that his life thread was to meet a very sudden end. He did not regret it. David was proud to serve."

Eve's fists balled inside her pockets, and she wondered how much he would hate her if she banished him beneath one of the arctic ice packs.

"Because you lied to him and told him he was serving God," she snarled, unable to put a bridle to her anger any longer. "You made him believe he was going to some nice shiny place, and that one day he would meet his fiance' again. But there is no God, and there is no Heaven, and he will never see her again."

"Souls have to go somewhere," Azazel said calmly, turning to look at her as if she wasn't ready to beat him senseless. "Energy created cannot simply be destroyed. Even with the particle dispersion, it is sepertated into molecules beyond the human eye can see, but they are still there, if only permanently divided."

"Well maybe that's what happens to a human soul," she hissed, pulling her hoodie off as the room was suddenly too warm. She nearly flashed him as cotton dragged cotton, but Eve had as little regard for her bodies affects on others as she did for the idea of human attraction itself. She threw the offending sweater across the room to her desk chair as she spoke again, "Permanently divided unless properly extracted and tortured to power the world of a group of outcasts who shouldn't have survived at all."

Eve threw herself onto one side, letting her body fold in to the usual tiny ball in which she slept in for warmth, and pulled the covers up to her ears. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew his eyes were the blazing green of fury.

"I do as am I told-"

"No, you don't. You do as you please to. Don't tell me Lucifer tells you how to train your little pets, he cares about as much for us as the angels who cast you into the radioactive pits do. Now get out."

"Eve-"

"I said get out. Don't make me say it again. And leave the fire."

He vanished without another word. Only the thin scent of sulfur hanging in the air was left of him.

Mid-Week Words

the Sigil of Azazel, chapter 26-

The informant was not what he expected.

For one, he was not a young or inexperienced demon. He was old, in a way that had actually begun to show his age. This meant he was weak, which he had expected. And yet, this man should have been smarter than to open up to him. One eye was scarred over and sealed shut with a single jagged edge that was not clean, but thousands of years old. One arm was missing, and the other supported a crutch. Few wounds would have been left so untreated, but with the state of rags, the rasp of his cough, and the manner in which his one eye was nearly as dark as his first in command was, Azazel understood immediately why.

The informant was a veteran from the Great War, and like so many of his kind had been treated hastily as the bombs had gone off, and with minimal supplies left to treat the ill only the most powerful could be deemed necessary to be saved.

He still raised his one good hand in a salute.

Mid-Week Words

from the Sigil of Azazel, chapter 12:
If Kochbiel was considered kind, and Azazel was being summoned for his lack of progress with Abaddon and the girl herself, she did not want to imagine what her teacher would do to her if he returned tomorrow to no further progress.
But what if Azazel did not come back tomorrow? Phenex had warned her that Azazel was rarely ever given explicit orders at all, if this was so, what would stop them from simply reassigning to her a different master? One who did not care at all about making sure Eve ate a decent meal or healing her wounds or taking blows for her poor mortal body so she wouldn't have to worry about slowly healing while trying to fight off would be mates and saving the world from Abaddon's destruction of it?
This did not stop her from taking the blood that had begun to flow from her nose to gather on her thumb and press into the small black glass of her golden compact, and telling the demon exactly what had happened and how he had damn well better have some answers for her when they would meet next, or so help her.
She wondered as she wrote out the Latin, whispering it to herself in English as she went to force the knowledge to take root in her mind and stop it from coming free, if demons were just as flammable as the Preta.

Or perhaps they were even more so.

Mid-Week Words

The Sigil of Azazel, Ch. 9-
Eve sat there now getting tattoos on her hands that she was still worried about covering up for a job interview in the near future with the succinct and absolute knowledge that everything she knew about life and the world around her was nothing even close to the truth.
There was not one world, but many, one often pressing in on the other if a person or angel or demon was smart enough to see it, to seek it out and press through with the right word, the right sigil, the right sacrifice.
The only thing her father had taught her which remained to still be true was the way in which the demons had survived the complete and total death of the world they had once called home - the reaping of twisted and monstrous souls. If over time they had corrupted humanity to speed along that process, Eve did not truly care. Mankind was a flawed and foolish race at best anyhow, and she did not believe that they needed much help in this matter, in their plummeting ascent into the desolate bowels of the underground world which her teacher called home.
She tried to imagine as Phenex worked on how mankind had been searching for a cure for cancer, a solution to the energy crisis, a way to stop world hunger. She imagined this going on for thousands and thousands of years, in a world without aging and endless power, and yet to no avail. Eve thought for a moment that she understood why Azazel had kept it from her, the motivation behind his brethren's bloodshed.
It did not make her any less angry.

Mid-Week Words

Journal, entry dated 2/5/14-
The only way to prove it is with progress and success.
Honor the mistake as much as the victory. Take time when needed, but don't waste it when it is not.
One word and one swing of the hammer at a time.

from the Sigil of Azazel-
Eve was stubborn to the point of foolishness, and cunning to the point of something which most would regard as slightly less than human, though as Azazel exhaled the smoke from his tired lungs, he wondered if that trait was learned over time. He was crushing the still burning end of his cigarette between this thumb and forefinger at the thought of it, the flesh of his finger tips turning black and sizzling while it extinguished.

David may have been doubtful, and Phenex may have been hesitant, but Azazel was not. From the moment she surprised him with an elbow to the ribs and took off like a hell hound after a fresh death, he knew that Eve Spellmeyer was the single most infuriating and terrifying human being he had ever met.

Mid-Week Words

from the Journal, entry dated Oct. 2nd 2013-
There is an old saying that if you stare into the abyss, it will stare back into you.
It used to cause me anxiety, and fear. For what if I am all too like the darkness?
Now when I recall those words, I smile. Because the darkness will blink first, because I don't blink, motherfucker, and you should have known that. And I will laugh, and I will keep on living.
To me, that's growing up.
Life is too short to live in fear. Its too brief to hesitate, too impulsive to pause, and too fleeting to delay.
And for those of you who still cling to the past like a bottle of your favorite mind-numbing concoction, I only hope you can wake up before it's too late.

from The Sigil of Azazel, chapter 4-
"You've only just turned 18 Ms. Spellmeyer, do you understand what that means?" the Detective asked, leaning in close as if she were talking to a child. So close that Ever was certain the camera couldn't see her smile, which did not look like anything that should belong on the face of one so sworn to uphold the law.
"I do," Eve answered.
She understood that the Oscars would fight until she was wrongly convicted. She understood that she would be tried as an adult. She also understood that the only evidence they had was entirely circumstantial, and as such she had every right to get the fuck out of there.

Mid-Week Words

I've lost count of how many times I've tried a posting schedule. Honestly, my life is not a stable thing at all this year, its ever turbulent, and I'm quite happy with that. But words are a constant, in any shape and form, words are always happening. I won't trouble you with any from work, unless you want a lecture about optical care or proper dental hygiene, but I would like to reveal bits of myself through my works and my thoughts.

from the Journal, entry dated 8/9/2013-
I wanted to leave because I felt as if I had nothing left but ghosts haunting my walls. 
But maybe not.
My personal spirits are like those of reality - they can only enter if I allow them. Lately, I have been, but I don't have to.
I can banish them if I please.

from the Sigil of Azazel, chapter 4-
"Who is it this time?"
"Abadon."
Azazel's head drew back, fists clenched as his muscles grew tight, and his breathing seemed to stop as his brilliant mind tried in vain to assess the situation, but it could not divine a solution, only a terrible chill which seemed to sink deep into his ancient bones. 
"When? How?"
"An hour ago, at most," the Satan spoke, lips closing together in a thin, pale line as he rose from his throne and lead the way to the Northern passage, the perfectly smooth stone narrowing as it curved higher towards the surface, small lanterns of yellowing light dotting their otherwise unmarred surface. 
"As for how," Lucifer continued, pausing to cough as a cold breeze whipped through the air around them, causing the lights to flicker. Azazel's gait paused at what to most would have been a harmless chill, but the Fell was not like most places. For one, it existed entirely and self-sustainably below surface. There were no cold breezes. As they moved further up the ascending path, the temperature dropped further still, and the Duke of the Fell growled lightly in disgust as he was forced to put the scarf, still tacky with incubus blood, over his nose and mouth to ward off the toxic air. Lucifer turned towards the gates of the high security section, his hand holding the sleeve of his robe in a similar fashion. 
They stopped at the cell that had once been marked with the Sigil of Abadon. The door was gone, as was much of the cell, and the stone above it.
Lucifer coughed again before he finished, "he seems to have gone up."Azazel had witnessed many break outs, and they had always involved the use of a door. Because above them was not only hundreds of feet of natural stone bedrock, but the toxic remains of what had once been the home to an immortal race. Azazel could see the sky for the first time in two millenia. It burned red with no oxygen to sustain it, clouds the poisonous yellow of sulfur. The next moment, it was gone. Azazel blinked, only now realizing that he and his King were surrounded by Moloch, the Jailer, and Panem, the lead Architect, as well as their dozen or so underlings. The hole was patched and sealed before Azazel had even noticed they were working, and it was a sight he was glad to be rid of.

Seek Out Your Demons

I do not fear the darkness.

I master the shadows and tame all that hide within them. 

Our demons are not something we should fear. They are not to be locked up or shied away from. They are a part of us, whether we like them or not. 

To truly be happy with who we are, we must acknowledge them. Look them in the eye and greet them however you see fit.  Talk to them, befriend them, or conquer them. The choice is your own. 

But know that we are all a balance of forces. There will always be darkness where there is light. It cannot be defeated, and it doesn't need to be. 

The shadows of ourselves need only to be understood. For with it comes knowledge, and there is no power greater. Once we know ourselves, then, and only then, can we truly become the masters of our destinies. 

Seek out your demons, and let them speak. 

They have so much to teach, and we all have so much to learn from them.

Wordy Weekend: The Rewrite Begins!

After much consideration (and Jeff's insistent nagging, thank you darling!), I give you the new introduction for the Sigil of Azazel, now in third person! 

In a room found in the Land of the Fell (commonly known by human-kind as Hell), two demons stared at a looking glass in disbelief. Within its depths they could see the image of a young woman, slender and icy, typing vigorously at a desktop computer. Her skin is as pale as the lesser demon, who is a few shades lighter from his superior’s fury.

The demons did not have horns, or tails, or cloven feet. They were in fact very humanoid in appearance. The furious leader of the Warden looked like a handsome man in his mid-thirties, tall, powerful, and aged like the finest pinot noir. This was the first time he had been summoned back to his homeland for longer than a few minutes in over three hundred years. His profile looked like Roman Age art, all sharp lines and stunning shadows. But his smile was never warm, and always a nightmare. It is matched only by his petrifying glare, rumored to stop armies and cause the bravest of holy men to leap to their deaths, now being currently wielded upon his servant, a very minor and inexperienced demon named Charron.  

“Who is she?”

“I do not know sir, she isn’t in the records.”

Azazel turned to his assistant with an expression that was often followed by the removal of body parts.

“Then you missed something.”

“There is no record of a female birth sir, I made certain of it.”

The duke of the Fell snarled, turning back to the vision of the woman who shouldn’t be there at all.

“Then the Glass is wrong.”

“No sir, it is correct,” the gray-skinned demon flinched, gesturing to the map of the human world mounted on the wall above them. On it burned a new pinpoint of light that had not before, over the city of Chicago.

Azazel focused the Glass on a slim piece of paper taped across along the top of the monitor. ‘Print instructions for lab 203 – use your IADT card.’ The demon grinned, briefly. At least she wouldn’t be difficult to find. He couldn’t simply bring himself to her either. Such magic required an ingredient he did not have – her blood. A sample was taken at the birth of every success for exactly this purpose. He could not risk appearing in the middle of a night class, or startling his newest charge.

Normally they were approached much younger than she, so that when the time came, the pupils would be prepared. The records had never been wrong before, not once in the thousands of years since their inception. Azazel, who answered only to Lucifer himself, could not yet fathom how. But it was no matter, the demon had no time to lose.

That was how the demon left without reporting to his boss, or going out the door, and how neither he, nor his servant, noticed the grinning incubus lurking just outside. This demon did not share Azazel’s concern.  

Its coming out sort of...cheeky? I'm enjoying it a lot so far though. I think we're going to get a lot more out of it now, a much better story overall. What do you think?