they argued my right to ascension

It was a decidedly ridiculous affair, his patience for such things a line so very thin that even the council itself rarely so fit to force him to endure it after far to many complaints in regards to his less then sunny demeanour. It was a waste of his time, a novel, trivial frivolity that did nothing but allow the hellish creatures of unholy nightmare to walk the streets unhindered while he pretended to care about the vapid needs of a human couple whom believed themselves to be contributing to the greater good. Perhaps, once, the Council had been in need of benefactors- even the supernatural world required money to achieve its goals, wealthy humans more often then not willing to supporter the Hunter fraction with monetary benefits in exchange for added protection and the feeling of contributing to the safety of their fellow man. More likely, Azrael suspected, it was an excellent tax dodge to contribute to such a...charity as the Council whose vast wealthy far exceeded any of its benefactors and yet so much in the world was political these days- not that he found he particularly cared. He had long ago given up following politics. It didn't matter. Not in the end. Everyone died the same way, rich, poor or in-between- death had forever been entirely discrimination free and by that same logic the blonde man had given up bothering to bother. It was a tradition, a novel, ridiculous, time wasting act of propriety that saw him standing upon the front steps of the overly ornate townhouse that evening, one hand reaching to fiddle with his hastily tied tie in an effort to actually straighten it- assured the wretched thing was attempting to choke him.

The Hartfords had apparently been generous in their contribution to the Council over the years and as such, each one, one unfortunate member was sent to spend an evening with the family in a show of appreciation of their support, allowing them to ask whatever question they sought of the every mysterious Hunter race they supported, else bragged about being involved with amongst their higher circle of friends- yet another facet of society Azrael had simply abandoned attempting to understand, the often apathetic blonde having been sent such a 'mission' purely because there was no one else. Katerina's social skills in such situations were apparently sub-par, Kohl's inability not to flirt with the wives of a number of male benefactors had resulted in a withdrawing of funds, Alex had apparently left the coffee shop- the council to stunned by this notion to actually seek to find him while the rest of the Hunter population, small as it was, remained free-lance and outside the Councils immediate control. Thus Azrael's own reluctant appearance for the benefit of the Council.

Dinner parties, however, particularly those hosted by beings he hardly new much less cared to engage with had only resulted in a further darkening of the Hunter's almost permanently black mood, the dinner jacket and tie he had managed to force himself within seeming far tighter and more uncomfortable then he remembered, the man feeling very near naked without his sword or bow- what weapons did remain were small and well concealed in some effort to at least look the part of intrigued dinner guest. The opening of the door and overly enthusiastic greeting of the woman failed entirely to remove the scowl etched upon his features as he was very near dragged into the hallway.You must be Azazel!

"What?"

Had she called him Azazel? He had not, or so he believed at last check, ever been a member of the X-Men. His question, it would seem however, fell entirely upon deaf ears as he was very near herded into the dining room of the lavish home- golden gaze widening slightly at the extensive spread that had been prepared atop a dining table designed to seat far more then were surely ever present and yet....so many homes like this, so many wealthy, lavish homes never truly seemed to hold the warm feel of a home actually lived in by a family. It was unusual, truly, that amidst so much genuine silver and crystal and gold.....that so many things seemed so entirely....faked. Tonight however, was hardly his place to comment, then man simply determined to glare his way through the majority of the evening, answering whatever mundane questions they had about what their money had helped achieve this week before mercifully returning to his own significantly less thrilling apartment. The appearance of a man, evidently Mr Hartford and the firm handshake that followed saw Azrael at last take his offered place at the table, a servant rushing from the kitchen to place some sort of soup dish before him. He detested soup, stomach already revolting against the idea of this green hued horror he had no desire to actually consume when Mr Hartford's attempt at conversation provided an excuse to actually look away.

The man continued to prattle on for fifteen minutes or so, Azrael content enough to merely offer the occasional nod while attempting to stir his soup, as if moving the liquid might somehow spread out the meal as if he had actually attempted to eat it, the Hunter already beginning to consider if he might be fast enough to somehow tip it out and return to his seat without notice those lingering tendrils of politeness so drummed into him as a child assured him such actions were remarkably unacceptable. Was this man ever going to stop talking? -and then we adopted a child, well, not so much adopted as took in. Her parents were very high ranking in diplomatic circles and a child like that simply cannot be made to linger in the social services system so we offered to mind her out of the goodness of our hearts until she is old enough to claim her parent's inheritance. It hasn't been easy though, she's proven to be entirely difficult, belligerent, disobedient and she really does not match the decor. She's very blonde. Since when had blonde become a negative trait much less ever matched decor? His own golden locks perhaps his most notable feature, gaze lifting slightly to frown towards the offered words, half pitying whatever poor child had found her way into the clutches of these people before considering whether or not his own hair clashed entirely to much with the curtains. She's currently grounded but she should come down and join us for dinner, after all, I don't believe she's ever met anyone of your kind, it might actually prove educational for her and heaven knows she could learn something useful.

"My kind?"

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Once more his own words were pointedly ignored as a servant moved to head upstairs and fetch this apparent child whom Azrael was assured he hardly wanted to meet all the same. How many courses could this dinner possibly have?

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread