Is violence an innate behavior? I often found myself wondering about creatures of other species, and whether they sought the comfort of destruction like I â€" and I'm sure so many other witches or warlocks, did. Perhaps the idea of violence becomes comfortable if you grow up in its basinet, lulled to sleep by the sway of volatile moods, uncertain circumstances, and a hyperbole of how pretentious quiet, sane, soft behavior truly is. From the war-like drums that accompanied Hunters in my mind to the roar of dangerous winds quite literally and figuratively driving the magic in the silver blood of witches and warlocks, to the sinister stir of animalistic behavior beneath the skin in any were creature... to the undead features of the vampires I often detested; the cacophony of that symphony often gave me impetus to wonder if our explosive and dynamic natures were a result of the cesspool we were raised in, or if these natures were simply inevitable and it was a property of the supernatural. Our kinds alike drew us together, forcing and forging bonds that might seem unrequited at times or absurd, but in reality? These bonds were necessary although often exclusive of other species in order to survive a world where there were bloody vengeances for little to no reason. Cough, Azrael. While the hunter had initially tasted his displeasure at my existence at the masquerade ball, I sensed that the kind of distaste that undoubtedly filled his mouth at the mere probability of my kinds' existence. And why might that be? The hunter sensed power, understanding that many of my kind would be able to put an end to him if he was not on the edge of the righteous sword he brandished at all times. Without his righteousness (righteousness in whose mind, I wonder) what would a hunter have? They would have their swords, they would have their knives. They would have their notches in their figurative bed posts of the lives they had taken, and the wreckage they had laid. And at the end of the day or our lives, what would the rest of us have? I had my dignity (ego... ha) and the role I would play in the supernatural world that took less lives for better reasons than the blades of a hunter.

Or were we really that different? His and my personal goals were undeniably similar, although the definitions might be ambiguous at best. I used my powers like extra limbs to serve purposes, in my opinion, greater than myself or to simply serve myself as I saw fit. Clearly, the hunter did the same as my existence wasn't enough to draw him out of whatever cavern he lived in. The fact that I had placed myself in a proximity to Serafina... Now that drew him from the darkness, let him catch my scent, and pique his interest in a warlock who undoubtedly (... clearly with my predicament, that's debatable) could destroy his life. While I would have never audibly admitted it, his pursuit had impressed me in a way that I hadn't intended. He had waltzed into my home and made the first move; I had never met anyone who would find the impetus or the nerve to do this to me before. What else could I do, but rise to the occasion? With pleasure I would.

It strikes me that his hesitation is linked to our mutual interest: Serafina. The black haired witch was captivating at her worst, and more than incredible and nearly fantastical at her best. I wouldn't have blamed him for the onslaught, although it did strike a chord that I was hardly willing to acknowledge. If he was as interested in the witch as I; ... would the better man win? And if so, which of us was truly the better man? I had my doubts about myself if I were to be honest, and I didn't generally enjoy playing games for a woman's attention. With composure enough to command a woman's senses and cause their heart to beat for me, I knew I could look elsewhere even if I didn't want to. In that sense, I felt a pang of sympathy for the hunter. I didn't know if it was possible for Serafina to look to him for a sense of intimacy and companionship, but if she did? I was hard pressed to find an understanding for that, unless it was between the hunter and I personally. But perhaps that wasn't entirely out of the cards. While divination and fortune telling were not necessarily my pursuits, I had an inkling that the man before me wasn't entirely so different than I. I had found my hand bloodied and guilty with so many lives that I had begun to feel nothing when the heart beat its last expulsion of blood and the eyes of the body would roll back in the head. Nothing. The pursuit of the void of feelings was immense, as I'm sure he knew well.

The venom I found rising in my throat was in direct relation to the comments that the man would make about my history, and my past intentions of my historical relationships. What kind of man would willingly harm a woman? Besides the misconception I was a knight in shining armor, I had religiously pure intentions when it came to many women. Those who were delegated the victim, those who had fallen... I never expected a thank you, but from another man? I expected honor and dignity and a sense of pride in their treatment of women. You can tell a man's character with such, and when you've lived long enough as Azrael, I would assume that honor would have been cultivated. With my question of who was the better man hanging in the balance of the pregnant pause between his flurry of activity of my outburst, and the arrival of another beam of light in my side, I found myself biting back the curse I knew would render him satisfied. Especially as it was slowly dawning on me that his weakness was obvious. There was such a stark truth in his words without hesitation that it was evident that he wasn't one for deception. And there? Yet another ball in my court.

" Then how is it the witch you've found yourself adoring is unharmed? Propriety is a fickle bastard, yeah?"

As he began to see what I had done to the beam, I didn't even mind the taste of salt from my own sweat due to the excruciating pain radiating from injuries that would have healed easily if the light sabers were gone. In all honesty, the lightsaber deal could have been fun. It was almost like a scene from a movie or a bad action video game, filled with star-wars relics and what-have-yous. Had it been another time and another actor, I would have enjoyed it. In a tumble towards the cellar, the hunter fell with a dynamic and dramatic crash that I would have gleefully looked in the hole if I had not been relatively immobilized. However it was soon to change as I could wrench the sabres from my sides, and focus wholly on renovating their damage. Though unable to finish, I felt significantly better until the arrogant fucker reappeared.

It was then that I would use the posts of my metal bed to quickly shape them into spears and haul them ceremoniously into the exacting locations of my own injuries at a speed that would replicate the hunters, if only as it was my most favorable kind of attack. With a slow flourish of my hand to wipe the sweat from my forehead as if it was relatively nothing and I was in no pain, I smirked at his responses.

" Your lack of integrity is rather unappealing, Azzy," I started, the friendly moniker something I'd heard from Serafina, and undoubtedly far more mocking from my lips. " What makes you so righteous that you can police the population? As far as I'm concerned, you're nothing more than a rabbit stuck in a snake hole, being watched by hungry cats and snakes. My birthright as a warlock is nothing of my choosing; what makes you a deity to judge? Your poor, pathetic history as a small, helpless human, undoubtedly." Had the spears met their target, I would have begun to curl them inside of his body, wrapping around organs efficiently. "Perhaps you need to stay quiet, and keep your abilities to yourself." With a little more nefarious of a smirk, I added, "Besides, I'm pretty sure that my ego is the least of your problems."

Although the words were barely out of my mouth and my space between the man and I was large, I felt the electricity surge from the tips of my toes to the very ends of my fingers. It was like a seizure, wracking my body and exhausting it from the prior episodes; how long had it been?

" Perhaps those people deserved it as much as the scum of the earth like me might deserve your violent ... expulsions. I think your hypocritical interrogation is pitiful," I had to slow my speech, feeling an almost aftershock, but politely propping myself up to see him, a mischievous look returning to my eyes, regardless of the dark circles beneath them. "While this is fun, consider this a warning. I don't like your kind getting ... showy," I exhaled, almost feeling like a stale-mate was arising.

And honestly? I wouldn't mind the game of chess continuing. It was far more interesting than the rest of the jobs I had contracted, y'know, ever.