Leashes and Fences (Azazel, with support from Janos and Shaw)
Title: Leashes and Fences
Author: Confusedkayt
Rating: R
Characters/Pairing: Azazel, with support from Janos and Shaw
Warnings: Descriptions of past violence
Challenge: Travel
Word count: 250
Timeline: Immediately after Erik releases Shaw's submarine
The ocean is cold and Janos’ hand grows colder. That’s twice he’s misjudged the submarine’s position. He can’t afford a third error.
There it is, behind them, dragging too slowly for the engines’ whine. He tugs Janos more firmly against him and bends. “Azazel! I was wondering when you’d join us.” Shaw’s thin smile is neither sincere nor welcome.
There’s a great lurch and the submarine skitters forward. It is only his grip that stops Janos from tumbling to the deck.
The round walls turn Shaw’s laughter tinny. “So much for little Erik. A pity. I had such hopes.”
Azazel doesn’t miss the way Emma’s mouth tightens. She’s seen, then, what he’d sensed. He’s seen rage that raw before, in the faces of the villagers who’d drowned his mother as a witch, in the mirror each night the devil had come to claim another guilty life in a puff of sharp cinnamon and sulpher. He’s seen it each time his tail tangled around the scum who dared to rob Janos of his speech, the better for Janos to return the favor.
He wonders, not for the first time, why he is still here to be called like a dog, he who could be anywhere. The leash he wears is a high price to pay for future safety.
“You’re dripping,” drawls Shaw, distaste plain. Azazel smiles, rigid and false, and reality reorders itself around him. The familiar walls of his cabin surround him. The price is high, but must be paid.
Author: Confusedkayt
Rating: R
Characters/Pairing: Azazel, with support from Janos and Shaw
Warnings: Descriptions of past violence
Challenge: Travel
Word count: 250
Timeline: Immediately after Erik releases Shaw's submarine
The ocean is cold and Janos’ hand grows colder. That’s twice he’s misjudged the submarine’s position. He can’t afford a third error.
There it is, behind them, dragging too slowly for the engines’ whine. He tugs Janos more firmly against him and bends. “Azazel! I was wondering when you’d join us.” Shaw’s thin smile is neither sincere nor welcome.
There’s a great lurch and the submarine skitters forward. It is only his grip that stops Janos from tumbling to the deck.
The round walls turn Shaw’s laughter tinny. “So much for little Erik. A pity. I had such hopes.”
Azazel doesn’t miss the way Emma’s mouth tightens. She’s seen, then, what he’d sensed. He’s seen rage that raw before, in the faces of the villagers who’d drowned his mother as a witch, in the mirror each night the devil had come to claim another guilty life in a puff of sharp cinnamon and sulpher. He’s seen it each time his tail tangled around the scum who dared to rob Janos of his speech, the better for Janos to return the favor.
He wonders, not for the first time, why he is still here to be called like a dog, he who could be anywhere. The leash he wears is a high price to pay for future safety.
“You’re dripping,” drawls Shaw, distaste plain. Azazel smiles, rigid and false, and reality reorders itself around him. The familiar walls of his cabin surround him. The price is high, but must be paid.