HALLUCINATE | THE SANDMAN

FIFTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
[ An Ounce Of Humanity ]
"You'll find something to love too, little sister.
Something you'd put your life on the line to protect."

        AZRAIL HADN'T HAD ANY REST LIKE MAEVE SUGGESTED. Even in the comforts of the penthouse, mattress soft with the sheets feeling like silk against her rough skin, her eyes never fell shut and sleep was never welcomed. It felt wrong to just lay there and drown in one's mind whilst there were things to accomplish. But Maeve was so insistent that she didn't get out of the bed until she heard her older sister moving about behind the four walls of the guest bedroom.

          "How was your first night in the mortal realm, my sister?" was the first thing Maeve had asked when the Reaper emerged from the blanket of darkness. Her smile was refreshing, eyes glowing brighter then they ever had been as the older sister was excited to have her actually family back.

             "Gross. How you can 'sleep' when there are things to be done is beyond me," Azrail spat, her thin arms folding beneath her cloak. "Your a hero. Shouldn't you be spending time saving people?"

              "I must take care of myself also. But yes, if I were to get the call, I would've left last night. However, there are enough heroes to the point where I do not need to do that."

Azrail tilted her head, pulling her small figure up to sit on the edge of the kitchen bench. "And that is where you get your fulfilment and worth from?"

"Sure. It's a part of it." The smell of toast filled the air as Maeve scraped the knife across the cooked bread before licking any left over butter from the edge.

Azrail's brows furrowed. "What's the other part?"

                  After cutting the crust from her toast, Maeve took a long bite, each crunch lingering in the air for an irritating few seconds before she swallowed. "I couldn't tell you. It's different for all of us, even people of higher power."

                    Azrail, with eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in questioning, continued to observe her sister as she collected her phone from where it laid charging, thumb quickly flicking open the screen with her passcode. Maeve pondered quietly, biting her nail as she scanned over the scrolling text whilst her younger sister stared.

"It's Gotham, there's always something happening in this city," the Fallen Angel murmured. "But, we have one stop to make before the heroic stuff."

The Grim Reaper's confusion was beyond comprehend. Alongside insisting she left the scythe behind, Maeve had handed hair a spare outfit consisting of jeans and a checkered flannel that felt like a thousand little needles digging into her skin. But despite her complaints, Maeve persisted and Azrail was forced to obliged, ducking into the spare guest room to change.