they argued my right to ascension

It was a decent size for a rabbit, especially during the winter, the hunter moving with practised efficiency, skinning the animal with ease and cutting away the better parts of the meat. It would save him facing a grocery store- for two nights at least. He pauses to wipe his hands against the back of his jeans, adding the bloodstains of the rabbit to the mud, water and grass stains that already covered his normally pristine outfit. Today's trip to the forest had been eventful nonetheless. Void of his usual prey- neither Frost nor Tetradore having led their packs into the woods today and thus denying him his usual sport he had been forced to turn his mind to another task. Hunting for actual food, a skill he had near perfected over his many years of life. Fresh meat always was better, even if his cooking skills hardly extended far enough to explore the true value of most of the meat he indulged in. Stewing however, was not outside the realm of his abilities and this would serve him for a few days yet. Maybe the rest of the world had modernized and yet there were some traditions the blonde man refused to let go off. The rabbit meat is easily wrapped and bound for the walk home, the Hunter reaching for his usual sleeveless black hoody, pulling it effortlessly into place, bow and arrow positioned a moment later- his favoured weapons for the day- the rest of his weapons concealed beneath the hoody itself before the distinct sound of someone shouting sees him pause.

For a moment he simply snorts, entirely unwilling to deal with some foolish lost hiker or the local division of the Boy Scout group. His patience, at the best of times, was decidedly lacking and tonight was no exception. It had been a long, if not overly disappointing day as far as work went, only more work in the form of papers to be filed waiting for him once he got home and as such he had no desire to deal with anyone else now. That was all he needed. Children screaming about a dead rabbit. Did parents completely fail to teach children where food came from these days? He shook the thought away for now, determined to move on when the sound of what is evidently something much larger than a child crashing through the undergrowth captures his attention once more. It takes barely a moment for his own senses to extend the very hair on the back of his neck seeming to stand on end in recognition of what is so clearly something supernatural, golden eyes darkening in near instinctive response to such a thing. Perhaps this day could be salvaged yet.

One hand moves smoothly to pull the hood up and over his head, concealing that wealth of blonde hair beneath, one hand reaching effortlessly upward to catch the lowest branch of the tree above, muscular arms hauling the eternally youthful young man upwards until he stands near halfway up the tree- concealed within the canopy. Golden eyes cast readily downward, searching the river below, the unmistakable flash of a red beanie fixating his attention rapidly as a smirk of sorts traces the upward in a smooth curve. Hmm. A wandering fairy. Such a pleasant surprise. The man was either lost or performing an exceptional portrayal of one who was, Azrael content to watch for a few moments yet as the man stumbled along beside the embankment. The rabbit had hardly been much sport. Maybe this creature would be.

There is a voice somewhere within the back of his mind, something that twists and turns and niggles at him. The same voice that has been there ever since the day he had woken like this, the one that forever sought to question entirely what he did, the one that recognised this fairy was hurting no one and doing nothing and yet such a voice is, fortunately, easy to ignore. They were not human, in the end, anything not human was hardly deserving of life- they would only kill in the end, supernatural's always did. It was better that he destroyed them, better that he got rid of them...at least, these are the things he is entirely content to tell himself. It was far easier, after all, to see them as less then human, as less then sentient beings, creatures without any true feelings or emotions. That's all they were. They had to be. To allow himself to think anything less was- foolish. His head shakes softly once more, removing any further thoughts of Serafina from his mind. The witch was...another matter entirely. Irritation at having allowed his mind to consider her only seeming to further drive his hostility tonight as his hand reaches to grasp whatever berries it was seemed to grow within the tree, tossing one down and towards the river, allowing it to land in the water just behind the wandering fairy with an seemingly harmless â€"plop-.

For a moment he allows the other man to continue before tossing another and another and another, this time in a more rapid succession- if only to unnerve him, if only to draw his attention downward and towards the water before the last berry is thrown distinctly at the fairy's head- with every intention of hitting him from behind, waiting for him to turn around and look back the way he had come. A near effortless rush of speed sees the Hunter appear before the other man now, landing smoothly a pace or two ahead, startling him no doubt the moment he chooses to turn back around as a soft chuckle rises smoothly from within the blonde hunter's throat.

"What? You didn't like my game?"

For all Azrael's own shortcomings there is another part of him, clearly, that so seems to enjoy this, a part almost sadistic perhaps and yet it was so much easier to be this....thing than anything else, far easier to make a mockery of the very lives of supernatural's if only to prevent him being forced to consider his own. It's easier, after all, to convince himself that there are at least some parts of his job he enjoys- and perhaps he does. He disappears abruptly from before the fairy, reappearing behind him once more, leaning easily back against a tree with laconic ease.

"So. Where are we going Little Red Riding Hood, Grandmas house?"

There is nothing pleasant about either the simper he wears or the tone to his voice, the fairies senses surely having already alerted him to the fact the blonde before him was no simple human.

"You look a little lost, do you need help?"

He disappears once more, the words barely free of his lips, reappearing several feet away, concealed within the forest once more, golden eyes still watching the boy from his new location, merely enjoying his own little game- curious to see if he could make the little fairy-boy start running. Maybe he had frightened him enough for that already. A chase was always fun after all....

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread