Dirge
'Tis a story of Death, and then some. So far, I only have the intro completed. Enjoy:
Dirge: Prologue
Not even the faint murmurs of the deceased could permeate through the blanket of silence, nor could the lamentations of the funeral’s mourners. One by one, as if marching to a hymn of the dead, they passed by the pearly white casket, on occasion stopping briefly in order to pay their respects.
The twilight hour began to set and the sounds of engines coming to life and hastened bids of goodbyes could be heard as the entrants rushed to leave the event with no desire of lingering any longer; only a few remained.
Then, with no announcement of its arrival, a sickening noise of rhythmic beats that had a feel of white noise to it began to overtake the silence; the mass of orange, green, red and yellow leaves that seconds before had been fluttering along with the breath of the wind ceased to move, frozen in midair.
A single movement disturbed the stillness in time.
A broad figure wallowed in darkness moved among the remaining stationary peoples with an air of one chasing an object of fixation, of lust. Its dark clothing billowed behind it, floating along effortlessly in tune with the spine chilling palpitation.
After reaching the casket, the being lowered itself, peering at the un-living inhabitant. The being regained its stature again, noticing that the white noise that moments before existed was now gone.
“Chronos,” It said in deep echoing tones that reverberated tenfold against the eerie silence. “I should have known.”
The being turned around and saw a young man had been added to the décor. This intruder was outfitted in a shady grey suit, matched with black dress shoes and undershirt to boot. The setting sun behind this man caused a sort of godly light to outline his frame.
Chronos walked towards the hooded figure, his steps slow and graceful.
“Yes, Azrael, you should have known.”
He spoke in a casual tone as he stopped next to the darkened figure, Azrael, and peered inside of the casket. From this view, Chronos’ face was clearly visible; he had shoulder length golden brown hair that was tied into a loose ponytail and misty gray eyes. These charming features were accentuated even more greatly against his porcelain skin.
“Azrael?” Said the dark being, Azrael, slightly amused. “I have not been referred to by that appellation for centuries.”
“Yes, well, I do not deem the other names of which you are most commonly referred to as, well, proper,” Chronos responded. “Moreover, Azrael is the name that our Father has given to you.”
“Had.” Azrael corrected him. “Do you not remember? When He cast me out—“
“That is not of importance,” Chronos interrupted. “That is the name which you were christened with, therefore you will die with that name.”
“Die?” Azrael said coldly. “If only He were so kind to me; death would be a blessing to me! instead I am the one to do his deeds; the bringer of death yet incapable of perishing myself!”
There was a minute of silence before Azrael spoke again.
“Did you call me here to rage at me, or was there an actual significance to this little soirée?”
“I…I…”
There was a moment in which Chronos regained himself.
“Yes, there is significance in this meeting, possibly up to par with the importance of life and death.”
Azrael remained quiet, waiting for Chronos to continue.
“The archangels, not all, they are getting restless. They believe that Father is wrong in having hope for the mortals. The angels view humans as despicable creatures undeserving of His love—“
“If you have seen what I have you would think the same,” Azrael scoffed.
“Not all of God’s beings are perfect,” Chronos responded calmly.
“I see you have not changed one bit, still holding on to what little hope you have left in these mortals, are you?” Azrael asked mockingly. “Do you really believe they hold good in their hearts? My, Chronos, how deluded you must be.”
Chronos remained quiet, but the fierce look he gave to Azrael was enough for an answer.
“Well then, what are the archangels to do? Slaughter every mortal until they are gone from this earth, this very existence?”
“It pains me to say so, but yes, that is the case.”
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"Balls," said the Queen, "If I had them I'd be King."
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