Sanctuary of Tears

2 - Bleached Cat and Six

   A snow leopard was bolting through the thick wood, scrabbling over fallen trees and leaping across muddy ditches. The white tail flicking as the smell of another person invaded her sense. Skidding to a stop, not far from the open glade area. There was a flash of black light, surrounding the small cat. When it faded a young woman with a black cloak wrapped around her shoulders, her black hair falling to down her back in waves. She looked around, green eyes glowing in the dim forest.

   Azrael sat in the cherry tree, looking up at the sky until he felt a presence enter the glade. He looked down and saw the woman, a small smile crept onto his face, had they already begun? The Guardian worked quick... He leaped from the tree, landing deftly.
"Hello... My name is Azrael Nightingale, Archangel of Death, and I... Welcome you... To the Sanctuary of Tears. Who are you?"

   The woman raised an eyebrow, her green eyes turning to him. Long black claws extended from her knuckles, curving in a sinister way.
"Why would you want to know?" She snapped, not looking away from Azrael.

   Azrael sighed, this one would be difficult.
"I would like to know what name to write on your tombstone if you attack me." He cursed himself silently, having never been good at introductions or explanations, he simply leaned against the tree, analyzing her as he would a paper.

   The woman laughed, though she did not appear amused.
"I'd like to see you try." She tilted her head, watching him carefully.
"Sage Resi, Demon Cat..."

   Azrael growled darkly, a Demon? The Guardian had been stupid enough to let a demon into his sanctuary? Or was she here to kill him? Defile the glade? This woman would be a wild card if she was allowed to stay, he stood quickly, hesitant to draw his weapon, and silently cursing the Guardian in his head. Under normal circumstances, he would have killed her on the spot. 
"And your reason for being here?"

   Sage smirked, holding up her claws threateningly.
"Not so fast Mr. High and Mighty." She warned, lowering her eyes to inspect her claws. Unsure of her answer she glanced back up. 
"Was invited anonymously..." She said slowly, hoping he would not take suspicion.

   Azrael paused, reaching for his scythe.
"I will not tolerate an answer that vague. Tell me who brought you here." He wasn't ready to play word games with a demon, stories had been told of them tricking even the wisest of angels, and Azrael would not join the ranks of being tricked by a demon.
"Tell me, or perish."

   "Touch your fancy blade and your head will roll." Sage said, taking a small step forward, her eyes fierce.
"I do not have to answer to a vile creature, such as you." she mocked.

   Azrael laughed, grabbing his scythe.
"Funny, that's what I was thinking about you. Despicable creature. I would gladly hand your body from a branch of these trees." He stepped closer to her, tensing his body like a spring, ready to explode into movement at a moments notice.

   As the two were distracted, footsteps sounded from the woods, pacing towards them. Not slowly, but not a run, more like a casual stroll. The steps carried a young boy who couldn't be much older than eleven years old. He wore a formal black suit and his dark hair seemed to be combed neatly, yet purposefully messed up. His hands are held behind his back, hiding something. Pausing when he heard the voices for a moment, he continued on towards them.

   A feral growl built up in her throat, her claws rising. She scanned over him, searching for a weakness. Unnerved at finding him solid in his stance. Sage raised her eyes to his,
"You couldn't kill me if you tried." She sneered. Her head snapped to the side at the sound of footsteps. Snowy white cat ears that had been flat against her skull perked up, swiveling.

   Azrael looked at the woman and rolled his eyes, then seeing the boy he growled.
"So I have a bleached cat, and a delinquent..." He twirled the scythe around him lazily, waiting for movement from either, he spoke to the boy.
"And who might you be?"

   The boy looked up at them, his expression remaining blank. He still held his hands behind his back. His face looked pale other than under his eyes.
".. A prince?" He spoke, raising an eyebrow.
"You would think that a farmer would still know who people were." His tone was obviously annoyed, referring to Azrael as a farmer due to his scythe - which was usually used for harvesting grain.