Azrael

Only Fools Walk Where Angels Fear To Tread

There is a relief of sorts, to at last affording the woman beside him some knowledge of the growing affection that exists within himself and entirely for her. It has existed for perhaps far longer than he cares to admit, the man having staunchly attempted to ignore it, dismiss it- or even more so to simply deny it. There are so many reasons why, after all, such a thing should hardly have been allowed to blossom into anything other then a passing fancy. He had spared her life the day they had met, such a kindness should have been his last and yet thoughts of the woman had plagued him all the same. It had been, at first, her near stark resemblance to a woman he had once loved all those years ago and yet over time he had found this affection existed uniquely for Serafina alone even despite the very notion that their species were designed to avoid one another. That instinctive desire to destroy her, while at first so overwhelmingly potent, had become less and less with each passing day until her presence resulted in near no reaction from him in that regard. He was aware of her, to be sure, yet any desire to harm her had long since retreated. As if his very being had simply come, at last, to accept her and with that acceptance too- had at last come his admittance of the fact that he enjoyed her company. He enjoyed her. He is relieved to have voiced it aloud and yet he is too relieved that the woman so easily seems to accept such a thing, hardly seeking to pressure him further upon it. Emotions have never truly been his forte, the woman perhaps seeming to sense such a thing and mercifully releases him from any further need to attempt to explain exactly what he feels.

He leads her easily to the water's edge, allowing her to better view the area he'd brought them too. Azrael finding himself almost....nervous of her reaction in a manner he simply had not been in years. He had forgotten this feeling. Forgotten this insecure anticipation that he both adored for the simple feeling of life it afforded him and yet abhorred for the very discomfort of it all at once. He had, in some manner, made an effort to attempt to please the woman tonight. Despite his irritable nature and often dismissive attitude he was not unobservant. What Hunter was? He had noted her subtle likes and dislikes and indeed gone to some effort to actually ensure what he planned might actually be enjoyed by the woman. He knew her perhaps- far more then she surely anticipated of him. Her fingers unwind easily from his own, the man's golden gaze fluttering softly sideways to rest upon her once more, studying her features with an almost astute care in search of any indication she was at least willing to spend an evening in his company. He frowns ever so slightly as she simply begins to take off her overly muddy shoes, the delicate lilt to her voice seizing his attention as he continues to watch her, the words that abruptly leave her lips- this admittance she was indeed a were-fish see his eyes roll in gently, almost playful fashion, lips parting to argue the very fact that she surely wasn't when her fingers move to grasp the button of her jeans.

Whatever words he had anticipated offering her die abruptly on his lips, her pants so easily removed, her shirt a moment later, leaving the woman in only her underwear beneath that pallor of the moon. For the first time, Azrael hardly makes any effort to actually look away as modesty surely dictates, the man seemingly determined to indulge in the sight of her- even if only briefly. His gaze lifts from her distinctly pleasing feminine figure to meet her own- his mind almost sluggish in its attempts to process her words before she abruptly allows herself to fall backwards and into the lake.

"I was distracted."

It is a murmur more to himself then the woman, the raven-haired witch having momentarily disappeared beneath the surface of the lake- the man perhaps having not fully anticipated her water affinity here and now or how much joy she might take from it. Aware only of her single display of such a power with the pot in his own home. Her emergence just above the surface earns the faintest of chuckles from the man before he turns slightly away. One hand reaches up easily, beginning to unbutton his shirt, working his way down the hard plain of his chest before slipping it from his shoulders, rolling the tension from them with ease before shucking his jeans from his hips- leaving only his boxer shorts. He strolls smoothly forward and towards the waters edge, letting the cool water lap at his feet a moment as if to test it- before abruptly leaping forward and into a dive.

The water was pleasantly refreshing, almost a relief after the hike and yet the Hunter hardly surfaces immediately. He is, it would seem, in an almost playful mood tonight. He dives momentarily deeper, swimming easily beneath the surface before surfacing silently behind the witch, one hand reaching out to rest softly on her shoulder- alerting her to his presence before he rather unceremoniously- dunks her. He pushes easily away from her once more- preventing any instant retaliation, his chuckle echoing into the stillness of the night as he allows himself to float upon his back atop those dark waters. His words tainted with a humored tease. Azrael more relaxed in these moments then he has surely ever been.

"I was fast enough for that though. You witches- you think your so clever..."