Category: Darksiders I & II
Rating: M
Couples: Azrael/Abaddon
Warnings: AU, Disturbing Imagery
Chapter:24
Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me
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A few days later Zeruch was once again in the garden practicing flying; he would climb up one of Azrael's golden trees and jump from a branch while trying to flutter up. He only managed to hover for a few seconds before gliding down to the ground though, which made the young child feel more and more frustrated.
Azrael meanwhile had wanted to check up on the work of the boy, only to find the room empty and the lessons not even half-finished. "Zeruch?" And of course he could find him outside. "What are you doing?"
"Practicing." Zeruch replied in matter-of-fact tone, while perching on a branch to get ready to jump down again.
"You do remember the lessons you have to finish before dinner, right?" The scholar walked up to the tree, looking at the youngster. "You cannot just keep abandoning them as you please..."
"But I need to learn to fly now…" He jumped off his perch.
"No, you need to learn how to read and write now." Azrael waited until the boy had touched down before reaching over to guide him back inside. "Flying-lessons are after you finish your regular ones."
Zeruch pulled himself free and headed back to the tree. "Already know how to read and write and Naya knows how to fly before that!"
"Then you should have no trouble finishing those lessons before practicing flight." Azrael was actually surprised at the Nephilim just pulling away like that. He'd never done that before. "And Naya'il grew her wings when she was one, not five."
"But I wanna fly nooww." Zeruch doesn't understand why Azrael wanted him to do those lessons; he needed to learn how to fly, angels of his age could fly already so he had to catch up. Climbing to a higher branch, he spread his wings – which began slowly to ache from all the practising- and readied himself to jump again.
"You will fly in due time." Azrael sharply stated, flying up himself to pluck the boy from the branch. "Now, you are supposed to do your lessons." Setting down back on the ground, a small frown appeared on his forehead. "And not the flying ones."
Looking up at the Archangel, Zeruch felt agitation mounting. "Why! I doesn't know to fly but I cans read already!" His wings began to tremble with emotion and his blue glowing eyes looked brighter.
"Because it is necessary for you to learn how to read even better." Because quite frankly, the boy was still slow as Hell with that. "And you can practice your flying, after you finished the work I gave you this morning." Azrael pointed out.
"Why can'ts I do that later?!" The child's voice became louder and he felt something burning within him. "I needs to know how to fly!"
"Because you need to get used to the time-schedule of going to school." Azrael's frown increased. "And lower your voice. There is no need to start screaming."
Eyes now turning bright white, Zeruch hollered: "I dun wanna go to school, I wants to fly!"
"Zeruch, calm yourself!" Though he kept his voice on an even volume, one could clearly hear that Azrael was at the end of his patience and would soon start getting angry.
Feeling hot boiling wrath burning through his body, Zeruch yelled "DUN WANNA!" while stomping his small foot on ground. The moment it landed on the pale floor, jagged stone and scorching fire raised in a tight circle around him.
Azrael was caught off-guard by this: being on high-alert on the battlefield was one thing, but in his own home!? The scholar just barely managed to shield his body from the fire with one of his wings, crying out in pain when the stone spikes hit his legs and threw him to the ground.
At a cry of pain, Zeruch snapped out of his rage; blinking in surprise at his surroundings, the Nephilim noticed a low ring of blackened spikes. A faint smell of sulphur hung in the air and soot coated one of his shoes. Slack jawed and eyes returning to their natural colour, Zeruch kept staring at his feet until another sound caught his attention. Staring horrified at his prone and groaning father on ground, Zeruch's mind blanked out.
The mystic slowly got up, favouring his bruised leg. Creator, that hurt! Trying to stretch his wing, he gritted his teeth at the pain. That'd need some healing, that was for certain. The once pearly-white wing was now scorched and singed and a few of the primary feathers were shorter than before. Zeruch couldn't remove his eyes from that wing. He had caused that, he had hurt his own father. A small whimper rose from the boy as the angel healed some of the damage that had been done. He had hurt him! Tears began to fall from his eyes and he started to sob. He had hurt him!
Blinking a few times, Azrael moved closer. "Zeruch?"
"I-I hurts you!" Falling flat on his butt and covering his face with his hands, he sobbed out again: "I keeps on hurts everybody!"
"You didn't." Kneeling beside the boy, he pulled him into a hug. "I am just a little singed. Nothing that won't heal with a good night's sleep."
"But I did, I did hurts you! I saw your face, I saw hurt!", the young boy wailed.
"So? It was an accident." Wrapping his non-singed wing around the child, Azrael softly caressed his hair. "You didn't mean to do it."
"I'm sorry, I was mad and then there was fire and I am sorry." Zeruch burrowed deep in Azreal's arms, clinging into his robes and pressed his face against the chest. "I'm Sorry"
"Considering when my powers came in, I shrank my father… yours came in quite gentle." Azrael chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss on his son's head.
Hiccupping, Zeruch only let out a small whine.
Hoisting him up in his arms, Azrael headed back inside. He could fix the garden later. "I can't wait to see Abaddon's face when he finds out you can wield firemagic..."
"Dun wanna wield firemagic; its hurts you", a small voice sounded, face still hidden from view.
"Well, you at the least will have to learn the basics to keep it from accidentally getting out of hand like that again." The scholar sat down in his armchair, child still on his lap.
Trembling, Zeruch hugged his father tightly around his middle. "I dunno…" He was still unsure about wielding his newfound magic.
"But think of everything you could do." Making something of a face, Azrael stared into the direction where the Barracks were. "Abaddon is going to be thrilled at you torching every demon there is."
He let out a small giggle. "I cans burn them?" Sitting up on Azrael's lap, Zeruch wiped off the rest of his tears and looked down at his own sleeves. "I'm sorry for hurtsing you… and yelling."
"Quite alright. As said, we all make mistakes." Azrael ruffled his hair. "As for burning demons, you first need to finish school for that..." He pointed up to where Zeruch's room was with a chuckle.
"… Okay…" Zeruch then let out a sigh and slowly removed himself off his father's lap. Heading back to his room, his wings were still drooped and once awhile jerked in discomfort.