As I Descend

Chapter Three: One Will Know Another

"Contrary to Chrollo's belief, I was not cast out from heaven—thrown form paradise. I like to think I fell much like a star: bright, burning, furious…and with no regrets. I can't see why I would have any when all I've ever wanted was to join him in his darkness."

Azyel was seven years old. It was her birthday, in fact, and yet her parents spent most of the day worrying over that chubby girl. She was older too, walking and falling down immediately. She'd wring her arms for attention and for kisses and she'd get them at a moment's notice.

The girl wasn't as intolerable as she used to be. No, now, she's an okay baby. She'd cry and whine alright, up until Azyel peered over into the crib and she hushed immediately. Then, and only then, would Azyel grace the girl with a kiss against her curls. Only then would Azyel sing her a song.

Still, Azyel felt she had earned a reprieve. So, she climbed out of her window, begged Halle not to tell, and under the cover of darkness, journeyed close to town. She wouldn't go far, just to the starlight bridge. From there she had the best view. From there, she could see every shape and bright window emboldened and shining. It was a picture, drawn with silver from the moon and azure from the sky.

The anticipation was building, bubbling really and as she neared it, she broke into a run—

And abruptly stopped. There sitting on top of the railing, facing the city, sat a boy. He was stillness incarnate, the only sound rising up from the pages of his book.

She hesitated for a moment, was tempted kick him over the edge, but she simply smiled and shook her head. Azyel straightened out her lovey lace dress, it's ivory stitching one of her many gifts. Her bell sleeves hid her small hands that had curled into fists. Now, she flexed her fingers, and closed her eyes. She felt the coolness of her diamonds against her ears and neck. How she loved diamonds...and clothes...and bridges that were paid for because she asked and wanted and asked and wanted and now had to share with some street urchin-

Azyel clenched every single muscle in her body and...released them all. She'd work herself up, if she wasn't careful.

"You are a beautiful young lady, Azyel," Her mother had told her, "You are fortunate. Because of that, you don't always have to respond with violence."

Oh, fine. She decided. No violence.

Azyel cleared her throat. Yet, and still, the boy, not much older than she, continued to read beneath the moonlight in her spot.

He was a strange one, his focus was complete, the way her mom became when she did anything. Isolated. His skin silver blue in the lunar light, his midnight hair glowing in a dark halo. Surrounding him, there was a veil, a light breezy cloak that was both somehow transparent and lucid. It was both chilly and warm, alive and dead. It had no true name, no clear nature. From what she could feel, it shifted, changed with every whim. It was unlike her father's gold and her mother's evergreen.

With a sigh, she started forward and reached out to tug at the sleeve of his dark collared shirt.

Once. Twice. She tugged and then finally, his eyes slid upward, slowly. Immediately she was struck by his prettiness, by his long waving lashes curtaining a dusk colored gaze. Not only that, but his symmetrical face, his alien beauty reinforced by the neatness of his clothes. In short, he was stunning. He was rather fortunate as well. He need not use any violence either.

Azyel stood staring, openly. She had no shame in it. Why should she? He blinked, and slowly as the seconds ticked by his eyes wrinkled, and his lips curled up in a smile that made her want to smile back.

But…she had priorities, she cleared her throat again, and drew herself up to her full height, "You're in my seat."

"Is that so?" He asked, and then looked down and made a show of looking around, "I'm afraid it doesn't have your name on it."

How could someone be both pretty and petty? Boys. She thought, and reached toward him, "May I?"

With a quizzical expression, he moved slightly to the right. Azyel indicated to the cursive inscribed against the granite railing. She tapped it thrice, just so he'd learn his lesson.

He looked over her shoulder, coming close to her ear, and then chuckled. "I see. Azyel Uriel, is it?" He put his eyes back on her, "You wouldn't happen to be any relation to the trillionaire, Enova Uriel?"

She held her chin up, her words curt. "My father."

"Small world." The boy's eyes had some strange light to them, something mischievous working behind them.

"Not really," she told him, dropping those too bright eyes of his, "So, will you move?"

He laughed again, wasting no time at all to make room for her, "Of course. It would be uncouth of me to take something belonging to a lady as such as yourself."

He was teasing her, she could hear it in his voice, but, despite that, she smiled anyway, hopping up beside him. "What are you reading?"

"The Art of War." The boy told her, "Have you heard of it?"

She groaned, "Unfortunately."

"Why is it unfortunate?"

"Because I hate it."

"And why is that?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You sure ask a lot of questions."

"Does it bother you?"

Pursing her lips, she considered this. "I guess not." She then continued, "My father makes me read all the time and tests me on everything. It's so aggravating. I'd much rather draw, or paint or…" she gestured forward, "watch the sky. Reading is for the wicked."

He laughed outright at that, it sounded better than music. "And how do you find me? Not wicked?"

Smartly, she raised an eyebrow at him, "You're reading, aren't you? Besides, of course you are, I knew that before I saw your book."

He turned his head, asking for an elaboration with his eyes alone. Yes. He was very fortunate.

"You're a faerie, aren't you? You're much too pretty not to be and fey are lovely, wicked creatures. I read that somewhere. And so," she gestured to him, and then whispered, "You're wicked."

His voice was somehow deep and light, endlessly polite and measured. "That's fair, however, you are a lovely girl, Azyel, too lovely. And you've read, more than your fair share of books, I'd wager. So, by your logic, wouldn't that make you wicked as well?"

She shrugged, kicking her feet. "I never said I wasn't."

"How frightening." He mused, and then closed his book with a click, "As intriguing as this conversation has been, don't you think it's a bit dangerous? Did your parents ever tell you never to talk to strangers?"

She glowered at him, finding sky bright eyes twinkling back at her. Urgh. "What's your name?"

He closed his eyes at that, holding them tight to build anticipation. Then, he held his head high, allowing the night breeze to ruffle his inky hair. "My name is Chrollo. Chrollo Lucilfer."

"There," she pulled her knees to her chest, "Now we aren't strangers, are we, Chrollo?"

"No. Just a pair of wicked creatures," He agreed, his voice velvet against her ears. Perhaps he was older than she thought. "Azyel."

Gon rocked back and forth against his heels. "I'm really excited for the next phase. I wonder what it's going to be."

"It probably won't be easy, that's for sure." Kurapika took this time to look around them, observe the competition. "More and more people should be eliminated as we continue on."

"We can only hope." Leorio shook his head as he glanced around.

"You would say that." Killua said.

Leorio spun on him, "What was that?"

Gon smiled and looked to Azyel, "You seem to be feeling much better, Azyel. You don't look sick anymore."

"Wow, thank you for that." She said with a laugh, moving several strands of her hair behind her ear. "I do feel better though. Excitement is contagious."

Like clockwork, the blonde boy threw his attention back to her the moment she opened her mouth. Inwardly, she sighed, Why must he notice every little thing?

She pretended not to notice the attention she had captured, let it build before she acknowledged him with gracious smile. Kurapika's eyes narrowed slightly as he found her gaze. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

She raised her brow, waiting. Instead of dread, she felt her core bubble with anticipation. She felt like herself again, like before. "Have you? You can't have too many questions; we've only just met."

He gave her a puzzled look, "I don't get your meaning. That's precisely why someone would have questions."

Odd. "I have personally found that I have more questions after knowing someone a long time rather than a short one, but…I guess that just makes my experience one of few."

Kurapika groaned, annoyed. "Why are you so evasive?"

Azyel found herself laughing, "Is that what you think?"

He sighed, "Yes, it is. You're doing it again. I don't believe you've answered a single one of my questions directly."

Hard to recall when you've asked so many. She was glad to lose them all during the run, at least to be saved from his questioning. Azyel held her hands up in defeat, taking a step toward him. He crossed his arms defiantly, making Leorio reprimand him. But Azyel paid him no mind, because Kurapika paid him no mind. She had his complete notice. He was suspicious of her when no one, not even her darker minded companions, would find it in them to be. It was a puzzle to be sure. A distraction. An anomaly. But why? And for how long would this last? What would it take to erase such suspicion?

Her eyes brightened on him and she could sense his hesitation. Could he sense her sudden change? Was it to be a challenge then?

It was nothing new, it was one of the many games she and her past companions would play. She and Chrollo would always tie when it came to this sort of thing.

Best not, she was shedding that part of herself, wasn't she? Or just the pieces she'd honned in his company?

She'd have to know soon enough, wouldn't she?

"You think too much," Phinks had said to her almost half a year ago before she left, "I don't see how you ever get to do anything with that big brain of yours working twenty-four-seven. Give the damn thing a break, Princess. Live a little."

Perhaps he's right. Well, fine. Let's Start now.

No, Kurapika was no Gon. He wasn't blinding. In fact, she found shades of grey sketched into his very soul and it was that gray that she wanted to know now. If given the choice between black, white and gray—black seemed like the surest route—the most interesting. Between white and gray, well, the choice there was obvious. Moreover, unlike Hisoka, she received no pleasure in playing with children. To be frank, she preferred them older than herself, but someone like in age would do for the time being.

So, encouraged, she began, still pacing her words, still choosing, but acting first instead of reacting. Perhaps in this way, she could shake the mold and find her true self buried within.

"It's just strange. Not you—oh, don't make that face. It's just…how can you have so many questions so soon? I've barely had time to astonish you yet. I would ask that you give me some more time. It takes a full day for the world to turn, you know?"

He blinked hard at her, not the least bit impressed, but she expected as much. "You're teasing me."

She smiled sheepishly, "Only because you make it so easy." She matched his eyes, righteous indignation! What a sight he made, like a child denied mature freedom. She knew that look from experience.

"Hey, you two," Killua walked right into her line of sight, "Are you two flirting? If you are, now isn't the time."

Leorio sputtered, and adjusted his tie for some reason. "Of course not! Azyel can do way better than this guy."

Killua tucked his arms behind his head, "Jealous, Leorio?"

"Urgh! It's Leorio!"

Azyel let her eyes linger on Kurapika a moment longer, took in the slight coloring in his cheeks, before she turned to Killua who bore a superior air about him. No wonder, of the four of them, he was the strongest. "You've never seen me flirt, Killua. If you do, you may think I was very bad at it."

"I don't think so," Gon chimed in, "I think you'd be great!"

Like a chorus, they all giggled, and she joined in, allowing the sunlight to fall against her skin.

"Cooking?" Azyel pursed her lips, turning away to hide her revulsion. When she did she found Killua smirking at her, his arms comfortable behind his head. she sighed. At least my humiliation will be public. I always did love a show.

"What? you worried, Azyel?" Leorio asked with a teasing smile.

"I don't often spend time in the kitchen," Azyel admitted, glaring down the contraptions spread evenly before them. Shal attempted to get her to cook something once, and it resulted in a riot somehow. Never again. "While I admire the art, I prefer to let those who can take center stage."

"In other words, you're terrible at it." Killua commented, "or you've never cooked a day in your life."

"Probably both." Kurapika chimed in, always the instigator, wasn't he?

Azyel wasn't one for appearances…not completely, but she did prefer her reality to other people's. "I wouldn't put it that way, but essentially…yes." she moved her right hand in a dismissive wave. "but that's what I enjoy about money. You can give it to others to support their art."

"As in, you can pay others to cook for you." Kurapika thought he'd add. "So you don't have to do it."

Somehow, it sounded a lot less noble when he said it, but there was no point debating this. Best switch gears. "That's a rather bleak outlook, don't you think? Cynical."

"The world at large is cynical and bleak, if life has taught you otherwise," He said all knowingly, before his eyes hardened, a second away from war. "I envy you."

There. There it is. I see it now, the gray bleeding into black.

Azyel watched him for a moment. The way he stood close but separate, part of but divided. His head turned slightly away, but always prepared to attack, to parry every remark.

He was a lot like a single bloom in the shade somehow living despite having very little light. A pull was there, certainly, but she needed more. And whatever he had, would never be enough. It would be best if she left him be. Even as friends, she'd destroy him.

Azyel took on a sobering countenance, her words flowing smooth and soft. She was sure they held no edge, concealed or otherwise. "Well…I'm afraid I can't laugh at you for that, not when you say it with such conviction." A pause here, "Although, truthfully, I wish I could."

He narrowed his eyes again, suspicious, always suspicious. "It's impossible to judge if you're lying or not."

Azyel shrugged, choosing now to listen more closely to the examiners. "I don't make it a habit to lie. It's done very little for me."

"You sound sad about it." He said. It wasn't a question.

"Oh…" She paused, and then turned to him, her eyes gleaming wickedly, making promises she couldn't keep. "Do I?"

He turned his nose away from her, stubborn.

It was childish, sweet in this boyish way. All of them were really. Truly, it begged the question: what were the odds that they would all find each other? That they'd find her, so far from her home—

Azyel pinched herself. Stop it. She insisted. No more.

If she didn't think it such a disgusting habit, she would be tempted to pick up smoking in the place of her over thinking every little thing. But, that was as likely as Kurapika learning to trust a single word out of her mouth without immediately dissecting and questioning it. It was as likely as Azyel learning not to be secretly and furiously irritated every single time.

"Hey!" Gon called after her as they trudged through the forest and she turned away from them. Hunting for pigs, how fun. "Aren't you coming?"

She snorted good-naturedly, fine tuning her charm, "I better go this way. You wouldn't expect me to be interrogated every second of the exam, would you? That hardly seems like you. "

Gon frowned, his expression puzzled before he pointed to Kurapika, "Oh! I get it, you mean Kurapika?"

A vein appeared just above Kurapika's left temple and he crossed his arms, not admitting to any fault.

"You shouldn't worry about him. That's just how he is. He's not that bad, not all the time." Leorio said, glancing around at the foliage, taking in whatever horrors it could conceal. "And besides, it's probably really dangerous in here. You should stick with us."

Azyel had to hold herself back from grinning. Did he forget that she had not been with them for the majority of the first stage? He must have been so focused on not falling behind that he didn't notice her pass him. Oh, well, he meant it in the sweetest way. "I'll be fine, I'm sure. Besides, I have an associate here tasked with keeping me out of trouble." She winked at him, getting herself a blush. "I'll survive this round, I think."

"Are you sure?" Gon called back, but she was walking away. If he asked again, she'd not have the heart to deny his request.

"Let her go, Gon. She'll be fine." Killua told him, sparing her a single glance over his shoulder. "I can tell."

Even though she was now three hundred feet away, she'd heard him, had felt his stare like a prick of a pin against her neck. She turned and placed a single finger against her lips.

He frowned, but turned back saying nothing.

Azyel liked forests, oddly enough. She liked walking under trees, half hiding from the sun and turning around in a maze of bush and flowers. When she was little, she and her father took walks so much through their forest that they began to cut hundreds of little paths through the underbrush. He'd leap high, swinging onto and over branches and she'd follow quickly behind to keep up. They made a song of it:

Leap. Land. Rush.

Leap. Land Rush.

Over and over again, until their butlers would come looking for them at her mother's request. Kuro, her favorite, would sometimes snatch her from the air, mid-flight, just to twirl her around and carry her bridal style back home. She would slip her hands through his long violet hair and giggle as he sighed in utter exasperation, pretending to be tired of her antics. Whenever she'd stop pulling and tugging, he'd look over to her, as if he'd missed it, and she'd begin again. He'd smile.

She missed him now, as always, but her stomach didn't turn anymore at the thought of him. It didn't lurch or buckle. She didn't suddenly want to rip the memories away as they bubbled to the forefront. Those people are right. The people from the songs. Hurt, it takes a while, but as long as we release it, it too would fade. If we allow it. Only if.

"Alone?"

The blackness was back, it was like standing next to an abyss, really, or, stranger still, having it talk back to you.

"No."

"No?" the monotone voice returned.

Azyel turned, meeting the strange face of the pinhead man, whose name she didn't know. "I'm with you, aren't I?"

"You're very friendly."

She paused, as if the consider the statement before asking, "Are you here to kill me?"

"No."

"Then, we have no reason to be unfriendly." She said, watching as he stood still, eerily still, like a doll. "besides, you want to talk to me, anyway don't you?"

He didn't reply, taking only a step forward.

She inclined her head further up, ignoring the other contestants whose lights were so dim she'd scarcely call them lights at all. She'd have but to exhale to snuff them all out. "We can talk while we look for the pigs. I need a break anyway."

"From your friends?" He inquired, his voice, wandering and deep.

"Always."

"You don't mean those four boys, do you?"

She smiled, "Are you normally this talkative?"

By way of answer, he simply fell into step beside her, his head clicking a little as he walked. He didn't speak for minutes at a time, and she didn't either, but she didn't need to. As bright as it was, for that moment in time, it felt as if she'd stood beneath an eclipse. She didn't mind. She never did.

Author's Note: I intentionally skipped around cannon conversation bits. It's not that it didn't happen, just that I did NOT want to rehash conversations you guys probably have memorized by now. I saw no point to it. I'll do it eventually, but not if I can avoid it.

Also, I so appreciate all follows, favorites and especially the reviews.

Camm (guest): I really can't wait to get into it! but I have to be patient. Urgh! Whatever it is, it's probably not healthy lol