they argued my right to ascension

He hardly knew what it was, in fact, he hardly cared to know and yet evidently something about him seemed to continue to encourage the overbearing warlock into a verbal tangent every thirty seconds or so and truly Azrael would hardly find himself given to mind the overzealous fellows long winded preaching if only he was saying something of actual use as opposed to...whatever it was he was rambling about now. It was...trying, truly, to continue to actually engage his presence and yet, he supposed, the company was not wholly objectionable. At least, it wouldn't be if the warlock was actually ever quiet. For a moment of so the blonde Hunter is half given to consider how Dvaante would achieve his target in any sort of mission that required utter silence. Were's often proved to have a higher level of hearing then many others, perhaps throwing the warlock at one of those would at least teach him not to prattle on so very much about...matinee's or his desire to turn into an incinerated body if only for the experience of it. How this man had actually lived this long Azrael fails entirely to understand. At least the warlock was capable of defending himself, along with actually acknowledging how breaking the bones of an opponent might actually be useful. Hmm, evidently the magician was capable of a higher order or learning, he was merely like some sort of hyperactive child that needed something to focus on- like the unfortunate Fae whom had made himself their target, Davante proving actually capable in this area and yet truly Azrael has no desire to offer actual praise just yet, his attention instead moved to point at the rock he had discovered- the warlock evidently a little less intelligent then the Hunter had perhaps given him credit for only moments ago. Although why he had enlightened Davante about the easy manner in which to break a bone before parting company with him was perhaps a nod to his own stupidity- one he chooses to ignore, at least for now.

At the warlocks assertion that it was indeed 'a fucking rock', the Hunter simply moved to easily take advantage of his crouching position, stepping up and onto the mans back, returning him to his correct place in life as a footstool, using the leverage to better assist his own desires now and access the window that provided a view into the warehouse he held ever intention of actually infiltrating, the warlock continuing to mutter below him about a rock collection or something equally as ridiculous, earning little more then an eye roll from the irritable man.

"What are you blabbering about? Just shut up and stay still- this is the most useful you've been all day."

For the moment at least, Azrael remained oblivious to the shadow, hardly having taken the time to notice the manner in which it seemed separate from the body of the warlock in a way the vast majority of shadows ceased to be, his attention focused wholly upon what was occurring within the warehouse itself- until Davante proceeded to move, Azrael barely having time to grasp the window ledge before being left hanging from it.

"Davante!"

The other man's chorus of snickers hardly did anything to improve his mood in this moment, managing to twist is head around all the same, glaring towards the warlock whom lay within the grass as if this was hardly more then some pleasant family picnic in the middle of spring. The sudden appearance of the rock beneath his feet however, seemed to soothe his irritation, if only slightly, oblivious once more to the shadow patting his own as he moved to step back down with a muttered 'thank you' that implied anything other, the man clearly having presumed Davante had moved the stone himself. This, he is sure, is the last time he brings the Warlock anywhere. In fact, this may well be the reason why they are better off dead as opposed to alive. Irritating creatures that they were. How Sera ever spent any time with this....thing he hardly knew, another snort forced from his lips by way of the mans comment.

"How can I play poker if I cannot lie, Davante?"

It is, if anything, a strikingly obvious fault within his own weakness, certain games clearly outside his proverbial reach as one eye merely lifted in expectation of a no doubt ridiculous response from the other man as the warlock confirmed his enjoyment of such a game. It hardly surprised him, truly, to know the Warlock had surely wasted hours of his time on a sport his own Father had described as sinful for the manner in which it drove men to drink and spend. In truth Azrael may have been half inclined to admit it had, on occasion, actually looked....fun and yet he had never found the time in his human years, to ashamed perhaps, to try something his Father so appalled and within his Hunter days he had been- by that same measure of guilt, it would seem, prevented entirely from trying. Maybe he did begrudge the warlock that....maybe just a little- though he hardly chooses to admit it, offering little more then a strained sigh at Davante's continued rambling before the man at last seem to reconcile himself to the fact Azrael was more then prepared for the situation, a rock suddenly flying at Davante's head seeing the Hunter scowl. Could he not control his own damn powers? The comment about dirt however- seemed to distract the Hunter from his consideration of the rock.

"Unless you truly believe I have existed since the beginning of time then your comment does not even make fucking sense now does it? I was born in the nineteen thirties Davante, not during the Big Fucking Bang. Now shut up and listen- can you manage that?"

He couldn't, of that Azrael was entirely sure, Davante's attention span, he has learned, reminiscent of a butterfly, flickering and fluttering about in every direction before it saw something shiny it grew momentarily attracted too.

"My experience..."

He paused long enough to offer a glare in the direction of the other man.

"...has taught me that groups of Fae this large are not a co-incidence, their a Kingdom, a Monarchy, whatever the hell it is they call themselves. In other words they rally around one leader. Talented as I am and occasionally lucky as you are, we cannot fight that many at once. Unlike Were's however, the Fae will crumble if their King is killed, over half of those inside will probably flee, of what remains some will fight us, but some will just fight amongst themselves and save us the effort. For the most part they are a strikingly unintelligent race- they are good at gambling though which is what I need you for."

The Hunter paused once more, one hand lifting to run fingers through his hair, a habit in any situation he was given to concentrate.

"Their King won't be out on the floor with the others, he's in there, but I presume he's at some kind of invitation only high rollers table. All you need to do is win a few times and get yourself invited. You should be able to kill him then and I'll take care of the rest. There are others like you in there so I assume you can just walk inside but their hardly going to let me in which is where I need your power again. You're not the worst illusionist I have ever seen, not the best, but again, not the worst and I assume you've at least thought of using your power for more then just creating fake dungeons and landscapes?"

Surely Davante was a little more creative then that and truly Azrael hardly desires to teach him more about his own powers then he already has in regards to bone breaking. So many years of being witness, or victim, to so many warlocks however has at least befit the Hunter with the knowledge of a vast array of powers and their uses.

"Correct me if I am wrong but your illusions are visual and sensory, yes? They are not going to let a Hunter into their casino, but they will let another Faerie in and while I highly regret already what I am about to say I assume it is well within your reach to create an illusion based around myself that makes me......look like a faerie."

The last part was very near muttered between his teeth, loathing allowing the Warlock that much...creative control over his appearance and yet for the sake of merely getting his job done it was rather...necessary.

"They just need to see a Faerie and not a Hunter, if you cannot hide whatever Aura it is Hunters give off that let your kind know what we are then that is fine, seeing is believing, they will see a faerie and believe that is what I am, ninety percent won't act on instinct and the ten percent that do I can handle. There is another target in their to get, I'll take care of him if you can get to the King- killing him should bring an end to most of this. Now can you actually manage this- or are your powers not that.....advanced?"

It was an open dig at the other man, lips lifting slightly upward in a passing smirk, curious to see whether or not Davante could actually rise to this challenge, eyes briefly flicking to the man's shadow, almost assured it had moved before dismissing the thought.

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread