they argued my right to ascension

It was with no small manner of flourish that the little girl proceeded to enter the room, Azrael's golden gaze drawn from the soup he had managed to do little more then circulate to allow his gaze to rest upon her as she descended the stairs. He had never truly cared for children, not all that much. They had simply been a part of life accepted and expected in any relationship after marriage. Any time before marriage and they had been rather...taboo. This one was as seemingly unremarkable as the vast majority of children were to the Hunter, golden gaze lifting briefly towards the slender little thing wearing a dress she looked unusually uncomfortable in for a girl, his own features frowning slightly at the observation, the blonde man strikingly observant when he truly chose to be as his attention moved upward to the blue of her own gaze before falling upon the striking white gold of her hair. A look of surprise momentarily seemed to linger upon the often apathetic man's features, both eyes lifting ever so slightly. It was rare to see someone so blonde as himself, the golden streaks through her hair reminding the man decidedly of his own, eyes resting upon her perhaps a few moments longer then was entirely appropriate before offering a nod of sorts and returning to the task at hand- namely attempting to force himself to consume another mouthful of the soup he had been presented with.

On a normal occasion any home cooked meal was a welcome delight for the Hunter, his own cooking skills significantly sub-par and yet the meal with which he has been presented is...obscure at best, the taste hardly pleasant as overly expensive meals often tended to be. Why they simply couldn't have made chicken soup or tomato soup or something normal he hardly new, this...whatever it was an utterly appalling blend of no doubt expensive flavours that only seemed to irritate the man before the child seated herself beside him. Child- perhaps was not entirely the right world, the girl easily in her late teens, pretty enough, he supposed- or at least, pretty enough to bring the Hartfords grief whenever she woke up enough to discover boys. He is thankful, truly, that he never did have any daughters- the thought of it already beginning to bother him before he returned his attention to his hosts, eyes drifting briefly to the clock behind them, a curse muttered beneath his breath at the realisation it had only been an hour- before the girls legs banging against the table saw a wine glass roll.

It is merely reaction and nothing else that sees the Hunter engage his own abilities so readily, the man little more then a blur, appearing suddenly beside Mr Hartford with the wine glass in hand, his reflexes unusual swift- even amongst the Hunter breed, a shriek of surprise emanating for Mrs Hartford as her husband merely continued to look on in muted awe, Azrael attempting to prevent himself from rolling his eyes before appearing suddenly within his seat beside Calliel once more.

"I am not going to blink at you- Calliel."

Maybe this was why her minders so seemed to deplore he existence, the girl possessing some sort of determination to blink at people. What children learned at school these days he hardly knew, he remained entirely convinced it was not manners, much less proper etiquette.

"I am here because I have to be."

The answer he provides is muttered all the same, a muted whisper and little more, loud enough for the girl to hear alone as her guardians continued to attempt to applaud his apparent 'speed trick'. Did humans truly know nothing? How did they believe hunters defended them if they were incapable of competing against the supernatural races? Had the Hatfords truly thought he merely armed himself with a gun and strode off into the darkness every night? Why they continued to fight to defend such a vapid species he hardly knew, managing another spoon of the soup, half wishing that either Lore or Sera would appear with the cookies and pie he had become accustomed to. Then again he should hardly have become accustomed to anything pertaining to witches, the man inwardly berating himself for allowing his thoughts to glide in that direction, forcing them venomously from his mind as Mr Hatford continued to speak- the woman possessing all the grace and poise of a Saint Bernard in a china store, her husband hardly any better, the man as boring and bland as watching paint dry. How this Calliel tolerated them he hardly knew, then again the girl seemed to enjoy blinking as an activity- her mind perhaps having given up attempting to find interest entirely. Calliel, this is Azazel, our family is a great supporter of his work. The woman paused, as if such information was worthy of a response from the girl, glaring pointedly towards her as a servant finally came to take away the soup and bring the second course, the roasted pheasant of some description at least preferable to the last, Azrael entirely used to eating game meats, relived to actually deem it edible- hardly bothering to correct the woman on his own name nor offer any further involvement in the conversation before his features shifted slightly once more.

"Did you say Alosi?"

His words were sudden, an interruption to whatever conversation was occurring, attention focused entirely upon Calliel now. Alosi. He knows that name, he is entirely sure and yet remains unable to place it, so many years and so many names assuring that pinpointing one was hardly an easy task and yet one the man seemed determined to do all the same.

"What were your parents' names?"

That the belligerent teen may very well choose not to answer him had hardly occurred to the man, much less that the deaths of her parents may well be a sensitive topic, a life spent shaded within death having rendered the blonde almost entirely immune to such things as trivial as emotions of grief or loss- even if such things had been stirred to life within himself of late- they were easily dismissed now.

"What are you scowling at? It isn't a particularly difficult question is it?"

Nobody said he was good with children.

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread