Azrael

Only Fools Walk Where Angels Fear To Tread

Why did this always happen to him? Did the world have some sort of bloody vendetta against him? This was supposed to be a five minute job. Nothing more and yet, somehow, it always became more. Azrael made a distinct effort to keep his temper under control as he queried the curly haired Werewolf on just what her role in this situation was. His golden gaze narrowing on that bloodied coin-thing in her hand. Had she stolen it? She hardly seemed the type and yet frankly Azrael rarely found himself surprised by her wretched kind all the same. Even if he was willing to admit that Raven was, generally, a rather mild being in every sense of the word. He attempted some level of politeness with her if only because his girlfriend would chew his ear off if Raven complained to her about him. God, women. Keeping them happy was almost a full time job. His eyes ventured briefly to that strange Hunter seated beside her. The Italian man clearly listening and yet Azrael hardly found he minded. Though who the fellow was he hardly knew. A rouge maybe. One of those few Hunter's opposed to working for the Council that Azrael himself sat on to oversee the city and its blossoming supernatural population. Protecting what remained of human life becoming a more and more difficult job with each passing month and the growth of the supernatural population. Raven took another sip of her drink then, his arms crossing over his chest in clear expectation of her reply.

His eyes narrowed slightly at that tale he was offered. His own affinity assuring him she was telling the truth and yet that near open-ended question only seemed to prompt further irritation within him. As if he knew why someone had blown an elderly Were-woman to bits. It was decidedly overzealous- even he would admit to that and yet another part of him hardly saw the need to question the death of a Were at Hunter's hands. One less Were in the world was hardly going to matter. Even if the method of her death was perhaps questionable- and a waste of damn good bullets. The sudden presentation of that coin-thing saw the man lean forward slightly to examine it. This was what the woman had been shot over? Some silly old amulet? It didn't even look to be made of any valuable material and yet- it almost looked familiar in turn. Azrael scowling once more as he eyed those near minuscule words carved around the edge. His shoulders lifting in a sudden shrug before he lent away.

"I've seen one of these before. A member of the Council owns one and another was recently sold last year by a vampiric antiques dealer to an unknown buyer. Depends on who you talk to as to what they do, some say they have some sort of power, others say they have only sentimental value to some people as heirlooms or Alpha Amulets. Frankly I don't care. I can tell you that writing is ancient Norse though. The language doesn't exist anymore. No one speaks it. The closest modern day language to it would be Icelandic. You either need an Icelander or someone about two thousand years old to read it. Why anyone would fucking die over it I don't know. Keep it, throw it out, do whatever you want with it. It has no supernatural signature- in other words- it's a piece of metal."

And therefore hardly worth his time to investigate in any sense. Why another Hunter would want it he held little idea, or little care. His own senses readily assuring him that whatever it was- or had been- it certainly had no magic left. Either that or it simply wasn't responding to anyone in this room. Azrael content to dismiss the matter entirely. The man far more concerned with finding the Hunter from the alleyway whom had, it seemed, largely been responsible for most of the drama this evening. Azrael allowing his gaze to briefly brush over Raven, assuring himself the woman was largely uninjured all the same before she suddenly continued. He had hardly forgotten then report that had come across his desk a few months ago. Raven claiming to have been imprisoned- and tortured- by a hunter on a power trip of some kind, along with that Alpha from the South whom had caused the council far more problems than any other Were ever had. Frankly Azrael hardly cared for the fate of Frost and yet even he was perhaps willing to admit blatant torture of any being, supernatural or otherwise, was hardly condoned by the Council. The vast majority of its members committed to ending their victims as quickly as possible if only because it was merciful.

Yet it had hardly been for what had happened to Raven (or Frost) that such a report had brought the Hunter any dissatisfaction, rather, it was his connection to Calliel that had made the man almost nervous. That it had been him again tonight at least prompting some action from Azrael in turn. The man promptly pulling hat phone from his pocket, his fingers moving with inhuman speed to send several text messages near at once and send out half the cities Hunter unit to see if the man was anywhere within the city limits. His attention returned to Raven. His words almost blunt then, concealing his own concern over that information.

"Yes I remember and I believe you- but several other members of the council did not. Frost did not testify meaning it is your word against a Hunters. Without Frost's complaint to back up yours it has little ground. Normally we can force a supernatural creature to testify but Frost has found a loophole in our laws. In other words- we cannot demand anything from that bastard. He belongs, legally, to another Hunter. We can't kill him- we can't question him. We can't touch him."

The utter disdain was surely clear in his voice and yet that was the truth of it. Without Frost's testimony it was Raven's word against a Hunters. Frost was protected from the Council by Alexander. Even Azrael a touch....unwilling to interrogate the Macedonian fellow and demand to be allowed to talk to his horse. The man willing to dismiss the entire matter for tonight. Whatever was going on he would find out one way or another. A part of him determined to find this hunter whom had caused so much grief- even if he pretended otherwise. He'd call Calliel tonight. His attention, now, largely turned to that new fellow whom had undoubtedly understood very little of anything that had just gone on. The man's accented lyrics assuring him he had neither seen nor partaken off anything that had gone on in that alleyway either. Those words wholly truthful. Azrael's head nodded in a near subtle acknowledgement. A subtle curiosity touching his features.

"You're Italian? I recognise the accent. I spent some time outside Turin about forty years ago on a recon mission. Nice country. Where are you from in Italy?"

The man's lack of involvement in that crime, it seemed, had a habit of prompting a slightly more....personable demeanour from the normally irritable blonde. Azrael having far more time for his own species then he did for any other. The man' golden gaze remaining upon the other fellows at the query of that alleyway. His head softly shaking.

"Yes and no. There are two smaller paths between buildings that feed off the main alleyway. Technically you could reach this bar by the main alleyway or the back path. I'm certain the man I'm looking for went over the roofs though. I have some people looking now."

That sudden introduction and offered hand saw Azrael's own extend in turn, offering Ludovino's that firm shake. The man had a good grip. Azrael leaning back against that bar then, lips parted to offer his own introduction before Raven apparently decided to offer her own. That soft snort off irritation echoing from within him then, his eyes rolling at her nearly ironically offered mention of his being friendly. Unless Ludovino was entirely blind he was sure to have noticed the entire wait staff and most of the bar's patrons had shifted to the other side of the room where they had proceeded to attempt to do anything other than meet Azrael's gaze since the moment he had walked in here. His 'friendly' demeanour clearly notable.

"Az is fine- if you prefer."

He offered simply. The Man rather assured he had done decently well tonight- so far- in controlling his temper. One long leg folding casually over the other as he near reclined against that bar. His interest entirely in Ludovino now. His words easy then.

"You're new to this city then. Did you transfer? You work for the council? Or you just passing through?"

He hardly knew the man at all and yet there was little harm in finding out about him or if he had the potential to be valuable to the council itself. After all, they were always looking to find talented individuals to recruit.