Azrael, Pre Colonial Philippines, 1040, Ohoho!
Children yawn and play, chefs prepare cuisines, and crafts scatter where a villager sees to rejoice—moments before a valued occasion. Some rejoice others grumble, a few stay asleep, and several individuals zip their lips.
...
Azrael swings out of bed, slapping on presentable clothing and scurrying around the palace.
"Sorry!" They collapse near the gigantic ceremony door, rubbing their forehead with a cloth as a pain reliever; their eyes strike above, piquing through a tedious gap that covers a large audience—so big!
"Can we let them in?!" They squeal.
"Sir- Ma'a- person, we clearly can't let them in... you're six hours early..."
Azrael piques through more, spotting a rival contestant.
"I know, but the contestant is always supposed to be early!" They exclaim, pointing at him. "Plus, I think I'm a special pick! I should be able to let anyone I want in at any time!"
"No."
They groan, turning their back to the door, downhearted.
...
They stumble as the stampede trudges over the door, busting open and shocking the child.
Six hours already?!
Their frail embodiment flows along the directions of these civilians, excruciating to the child's commands to rush to the extravagant roomful of many visitors. The child hisses at the crowd, glancing at its arbitrary direction that leads them; they wrap their face with their fingers and rest their body on the crowd's hands—quite an imprudent move for a proposed datu.
A group of aggressive hands lift their weight and throw them to an emptier spot, causing an unsustainable ache in their body. They grunt, groan, and plead for assistance, squinting their eyes closed and jolting them agape.
They spot a boy with a self-trimmed haircut, standing shakily amongst the tumultuous event.
"M- Milo?!"
The boy hops at the child's call, twirling, and suddenly, he pulls a woman to his waist, the two joining the stampede: Milo doesn't engage in romantic relationships with women.
"Haugh... get me out of here!"
Someone tackles their arms and leads them through a hallway, walking by punishing rooms and petite celebrations. A few rooms pique their interest at the sight of another self-trimmed haircut and a plus-sized woman with extensive hair; their siblings don't often correlate in fraudulent acts, unlikely for them to receive a penalizing.
"Yello!"
Azrael falls into a room of familiar individuals; past relatives, new relatives, allies, strangers, and possible rivals. Everyone observes their interests, hardly having a say in Azrael's sudden presence.
"Welcome backstage, Azzy!"
A novel voice enters the location, instructing the contestants to find their way behind the curtains.
"HELLO, HELLO! I'm your new favorite announcer! So, our first activity for today is the cooking trials!" Azrael's interest vaporizes at the mention of culinary, their ears blocking her voice; they'll require an amassment of patience.
Soon they announce the contestants and allow them to introduce themselves.
...
"Phew..."
YOU ARE READING
DOmI
Historical Fiction(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...
