(don't be fooled by the cover the drawings in this are random doodles)
Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
this is my first book im sensitive anyways, description:
Azrael's family has always gone through bad things like tragedy and poverty and stuff l...
Azrael, Pre Colonial Philippines, 1040, Bittersweet "See you soon."
"I guess I have to do this alone then."
The child sprints off in a blue arbitrary, rushing to witness a catastrophe.
...
Azrael, Pre Colonial Philippines, 1040, How!?
Scatters an amassment of acquaintances huddled in a location where the only space lies in their brain, hearts are infatuated with flaming fervor—if only the authorities weren't such insolent.
...
How did they fit every one of my people?
Why have they included everyone involved with me?
As a teacher with exceptional students, the feeling of remorse floods in their veins, freezing hands wrapping them with rigidity. Their eyes wander the appallingly familiar whereabouts, each recognition of a face shattering a piece of their sentiment.
Their progress is similar to land inaugurating its flora, enchanting insects floating around the area, only to announce to have it carved into a landfill for dross!
Soon their head tilts one final, spotting a similar abomination of a brother.
"No, no no- no... Get me out of here!"
Azrael clenches their chest and stretches their skin, squinting their eyes as they gasp a breath, stumbling from their feet-
"Boo- Azrael! Are you okay?"
Fingers embrace their frail body, a warmth twirling them back from reality.
She smiles despite the bitter taste of it, assisting the other to retract from their standpoint; the two gaze alongside the assuring pupils. Freya senses shivering hands nestle on her shoulder, leading her through the crowd.
Once the two reach the podium, watching one; a nemesis, lace his fingers on a parchment, spreading muck over its pure surface, and spreading his moronic ideals.
"Hey! What are you doing to my circle?!"
The announcer hums wry, twirling a strand of hair and combing it below his ear. "Hi, Azrael! I hope you liked your surprise." The younger stammers a well of curses, making him clasp his hands and hop around the stage with a grin; Azrael's never perceived him as this, yet they despise the view for themself. "Oh wait, I forgot we sent you here for a funny reason!"
Freya rests a hand on the child's shoulder, rolling her eyes, "Ha ha ha, spit it out already."
"I would like to tell you, what your doing is..."
I bet he's saying something crushing
"Illegal."
Okay, maybe what he's saying isn't novel at all.
Their blood boils, their intestines twist, fingers shake, and form into a fist, "What did I do this time? And, WHY did you put my people here?" Azrael throws their body at the higher floor, to be caught once more by their sister. "Why can't you let me do stuff with him?!" To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Wasn't it obvious? You recruited a horde of belligerents! They could terrorize us,again!"
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Concurrently, Milo roams the passage with pleading wide eyes, watching the crowd of distinct individuals forming into one group of hostile pests—he cringes as he remembers the promises he and Azrael created.
He glances behind, farther peeking his head through the curtain; his eyes widen at the sight of his siblings, caught in an unsustainable situation. Milo sighs, snatching a final glimpse of his tearing family before he sweeps his brother out of the stage.
Halili yelps, "get off me!"
"Please, don't hurt Azrael."
The older chuckles and rip his arm off the other, "I'm not?"
"Just don't, you're still siblings."
He rolls his eyes, promenading out the room, "you know I won't do that!"
...
"No, we cannot."
Their sister crosses her arms and glare at them.
The child curses until their embodiment is unknown whereabouts.
Milo strides down the hall more, an empty heart blaring his attention—something's happening. His footsteps escalate in swiftness as it pounds faster, soon finding himself rushing through the crowd and sweeping off the people inside.
"Azrael?" He mumbles indolently, snatching everyone's heed all of a sudden.
"Azrael?"
"Azrael!"
"Az"
"AZRAEL??"
"Az!?"
...
"Either you choose to obey your soldiers, or- whatever you call those rats." He whispers, "Or you fulfill your life-long dreams, being a royal!"
