Of Shadows and Ropes
Darkness pressed behind Ammorette’s eyelids, the sound of quiet, poised footsteps pricking at her ears.
When she tried to move, rope bit into her wrists.
When she tried to scream, the taste of dust filled her mouth, the gag bounding her lips only feeling tighter.
The room was humid, her loose curls sticking to her forhead with sweat. A voice, cold and booming, drifted from the surrounding shadows.
“You’re awake. I suggest keeping your lips shut. At this hour, there is no one around to listen to your pleas.”
When Amorette’s eyes slowly opened they met his. There was no doubt that this was Azrael, the infamous son of Death, his eyes a deep purple like the sky before a storm, a thick black cloak draped over his pale skin and a massive scythe mounted to the wall of the rooms gothic interior.
Amorette nodded so aggressively her neck hurt, her hair flying everywhere.
He watched her struggle for a moment, examining her not with amusement but with a strange curiosity.
He snapped, “Stop. You’ll hurt yourself doing that.”
With one last stare, Azrael reached his large, calloused hand out and slowly removed the gag.
Unable to hit him and unable to scream, she spat directly onto his face. He stayed still and firm, but was certainly caught off guard.
“No need to be rude.” He mumbled, wiping his cheek with his wrist.
“You quite literally kidnapped me.” Amorette retorted, squirming around a little. “And you realize I can just…leave. Right?”
“Interesting claim,” He replied with a cold scoff. “because as of right now, your body is bound to that chair. You couldn’t possibly—“
Amorette in one sudden motion disappeared, the ropes that had been tied to her wrists and ankles falling to the ground with a quiet thud, the only thing left behind a thick cloud of pink dust.
Frantically, Azrael searched the room, eyes wide and fists clenched. “CUPID!”
After several moments she reappeared, levitating upside down behind him, her golden locks of hair dangling against the cobblestone floor. “Boo.”
He jumped slightly in surprise before turning around with a sharp, cold gaze that could make any creature tremble with fear. But she didn’t.
She trembled with laughter, clutching her stomach as she floated back around to her feet.
“Haha! Missed me~? I was only gone for a few seconds.”
“If you can do that, why didn’t you remove yourself from the chair as soon as you woke up?” He grumbled, raising an eyebrow.
“Less fun.” She shrugged, a playful smirk on her lips. “Why did you bring me here, anyways? This ridiculous cellar is clashing with my dress.”
As much as he wanted to argue about the unimportance of her dress, he answered the question with a firm, serious tone.
“It’s been hundreds of years since the beginning of this war, and as Cupids beautiful and only daughter, I believe you may be our key to his surrender—“
“Aw, you think I’m beautiful~?”
“I think this will be far easier for you if I put that gag back on your mouth.”
“That isn’t a no!” She teased with that same mischevious giggle, until he shot her another glare, silencing her.
“I’m bringing you the underworld. It’ll be five days, and I expect you to cooperate until we arrive and your father decides to retrieve you.”
“Yay!”
Her exclamation, once again, caught Azrael off guard. “Yay? This is war in our hands. It is not an exciting matter.”
“Well, it isn’t every day I get to go on vacation with a devastatingly handsome death god!” She replied with a snicker.
Under his breath, he let out a groan of frustration.
Azrael had faced wars, plagues, and the collapse of empires — but nothing in the history of the kingdom of Aevum could have prepared him for her.
