they argued my right to ascension

In his own youth, his mortal youth rather, there had been certain tasks that were completed almost entirely by women alone. It had hardly been oppression or the belief that men were somehow superior that had shaped his understanding of it- more so, he had simply been born and raised to a life and time in which men and women performed roles that would nowadays perhaps- be considered 'traditional'. Men were required to work, to support the family financially, to deal will the more....behind the scenes running of the family while women tended to do- well, everything else. Cooking, cleaning, shopping and attending to children were considered a woman's everyday tasks and even despite the changing times, some parts of the man still struggled to perceive more modern day desires. At least, the women around him had changed, while he himself had failed to actually develop these skills. He could clean, if he truly put his mind to it, just as he could shop. Children were of no issue and he had no desire that they should ever be. Cooking however, continued to remain his most prominent failure. He had never learned, never truly been taught to any real extent beyond the most basic of actions and indeed, despite his near eternal life he had never bothered to truly find the time to learn. Money was of no object and as such it had simply become easier to pay other people to cook for him. It had been over thirty years since anyone, women or otherwise, had desired of him anything more substantial then cheese in regards to food and as such the woman's somewhat sarcastic reference is met with scowl.

He is content to watch her for now, eyeing the ingredients she seemed to have summoned from the fridge, the majority of it surely brought by Calliel on one of her many shopping trips, Azrael himself rarely bringing any meat home unless he had hunted it himself, no store bought meat ever truly tasting quiet the same. For now however he simply observes her in relative silence, her words distracting his attention away from her hands to meet her gaze with yet another scowl. She found his lack of knowledge...disappointing? He supposed, to an extent at least, her words held some truth. When it came to species outside his own his knowledge was perhaps- lacking. Her description of what she suspected he had been taught far more correct then perhaps even she anticipated and yet accepting such beliefs as they had been told to him had at least seen him find some success in this career. The utter strictness with which he had maintained those beliefs, until recently, had seen him advance from a mere bumbling apprentice to a position on the Hunter's Council- a role that held far more sway then perhaps many understood. He had hardly chosen this life and yet he had found purpose within it, or at least, a reason to exist for it. His own shoulders manage to find a shrug of sorts, keeping a firm control of his often volatile temper- at least for now.

"I understand what I was led to believe I needed to understand. I-"

There was a momentary pause, the blonde man seeming to consider his words for a moment and whether or not he truly desired to offer them, the Hunter notoriously private about....anything that existed within his past and yet for whatever reason he seeks to offer it now.

"I grew up with a priest for a Father, I was raised with a very strict set of beliefs in regards to heaven and hell and what constitutes good and evil in this world. My parents were very pious people, so much so that each of my siblings and myself were given the names of Angels for middle names. Much of the supernatural world...supports what I was taught as a child. Many of the principals of what Hunters believe reflect what I was raised to understand to an extent. The...transition for myself was not particularly difficult in that regard. My Father led me to believe the world was very black and white- in short. It was only later, much later, that I began to perceive the grey in it and by then it was perhaps too late. It is difficult for me to...accept certain concepts in regards to supernatural's because I have spent a lifetime being taught otherwise. It is not that I haven't tried to understand, it is more so that it is....intensely difficult for me to question it and it is easier for me to view supernaturals as creature to be eliminated and nothing more."

The answer is honest and perhaps almost painfully so and yet he possess no ability to lie to her regardless. There is much perhaps, that remains unsaid within his words and yet surely enough has been offered to allow the woman to at least hold some perception of where he himself....stems from in his own beliefs. The bible provides many answers and yet, not one seemed to favour the existence of supernaturals- to question the very book his parents had devoted themselves too was...difficult and yet those questions existed all the same. It had simply become easier to ignore the issues entirely. Maybe he truly was more cowardly then he perceived. He shook his head softly as if to rid his mind of the thoughts that threatened to plague him, a simper of sorts touching his lips.

"I did not support slavery."

That is all he seeks to add on that matter, instead content to return his attention to the chicken that laid before him, the man moving to wander around to her side of the bench now, placing himself before the meat as she instructed he cut it- failing to provide any further instruction in regards to what manner she might desire it be cut as his gaze narrowed.

"Pound the chicken? Are you attempting to be....humorous? Why would I assault it? It is already dead."

He gestured briefly towards the chicken before him, suspecting the woman of attempting to make some sort of joke out of him all the same before reaching for the nearest knife with deft ease. Cutting, at least, was one area in which he was assured he could excel- although why he found he should care at all as to what she thought of his skills in this regard remained to be seen- the knife flicked about within his fingers like a mere toy, the man wholly comfortable with such an instrument before he simply begins to cut. In all manner of ways. One of them, after all, is assured to be the right cut for her requirements. The man so focused upon his task he has very near forgotten the woman beside him

"Hmm? Oh, yes- I am entirely assured that will be sufficient. I am neither opposed to chicken or parmesan so I fail to see how I would be opposed to them together. Anything other than two minute noodles is sufficiently amazing, as you put it, to my understanding and unless you set fire to my home while cooking it I should fail to see how I would think any less of it."

It was almost a compliment, really. The man content to work in silence for a moment (continuing to cut the chicken in every manner of creative ways) before he seems determined to speak once more- this current flow of conversation perhaps the most...civil they had held to date.

"You are still young, most Witch's your age are still with a mentor of sorts, else beneath the tutelage of....someone. Have you truly no one?"

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread