Greed

It was as if someone was sat on the angel’s chest; crushing her lungs as she tried to understand this feeling which was beginning to overwhelm her. With her lustful impulses becoming more and more frequent, the suspense in waiting to be wedlock was beginning to irritate the innocent angel.

Her pure mind was slowly beginning to erode. It wasn’t notable enough to her or anyone on the outside. But certain aspects of her were changing. Her previous persistence she held when in Heaven was still evident. But it was becoming more forceful. More aggressive. ‘No’ wasn’t an answer that existed to her anymore. And this strange tightness in her ribs swamped her body when someone did defy her. Did they really not see the wings on her back and the radiating glow which came from her? Yes, it was fading. But she still screamed celestial brilliance. She was a living dream to every mortal who walked the earth. Not only that but she was now a proclaimed Princess. Royalty over a foreign land which she did not understand.

“I can’t wait any longer.” Azazel whispered as she sat on the cold marble tiles which lined her chamber floor. She wasn’t talking to herself. Of course not. Insanity didn’t exist in an angel’s mind. But she was talking to the silhouette of herself which was glued to the wall next to her; mirroring her every move.

“Why should I? They all worship me anyway. Why am I kept waiting? Isn’t it rude to make a lady wait?” Azazel continued to mumble to herself as she gazed at the wall with a sigh. However, her shadow began to move without authorisation. Azazel sat slumped over, knees to her chest and arms folded over the top of them. Forehead pressed against her arms as she gazed down at the floor; clueless to her shadow beginning to dance against the wall. Strangely symbolic. For the child inside her was slowly dying. Yet the speechless figure resembled her usual self; energetic, eager and full of life.

Azazel’s gaze caught onto the movement of light in her peripherals and glanced up, eyebrows raising as she saw her shadow beginning to pirouette. A strange sight; unsettling to most. But a giggle erupted from her chest as the troubled angel grinned.  Leaning forward on the balls of the feet, she hauled her heavy frame up to stand and rose her hand in her air. Her shadow responded. But not like a shadow should have. Peeling away from the wall; the shadow approached, lacing its digits between hers and it’s faceless persona took young Azazel by the waist and encouraged her to dance. Trying to keep her in her innocence for as long as possible; coaxing her to remain a child as they danced across the cold floor. Pads of her feet thudded quietly as they came into contact with each tile in elegant precision as the two figures moved to the sound of a harp which could be heard outside.

Dancing her purposely towards the balcony in which the shuttered door was open and creaking in the breeze, the Shadow halted and reluctantly peeled itself from her to let her lay her eyes on the scene below. Her playful grin slowly died as the bright blue eyes gazed below upon the maids of the palace following Cassander around like a bad smell. Jealousy wasn’t an obvious trait in an angel. But it only made that cramping sensation worse. The sweet women were not touching him. They were not fascinating over him. They were simply doing the job they were hired to do; which was to tend to his needs. But for the first time, Azazel felt animosity. Negative energy bubbled away in her as her eyebrows furrowed and her jaw clenched.

“Sort this.” Azazel whispered to the shadow who lingered beside her. But without initially moving, Azazel’s gaze snapped to the side as she growled. “You brought me to this scene. Get rid of it.” The shadow slowly took a few steps back, before blending back in with the wall and bleeding down the wall like an ebony waterfall.

Other dark contours seemed to merge with her initial shadow as it made its way down the wall and into the courtyard. Remaining 2D as the growing wall of darkness soon consumed both the women and Azazel’s husband to be. A confused expression graced Cassander as she turned, glancing up at the balcony to see his angel standing there, breeze causing her golden locks to float in the breeze.

“My princess! It seems that the world falls dark at your presence!” The man called up to her; like a strange Romeo and Juliet. He rose his arms, holding them out to her.

“There are no clouds in the sky. No obstructions to halt the sun from its blessing. How extraordinary, eh?!” he continued loudly, wandering closer to she could stand beneath the balcony which Azazel stood static upon.

“Tell me, my Prince. Why must we wait?” Azazel questioned, her voice stern as frustration ingrained itself in her mind as a new emotion she had now learned.

“Well because it will be the biggest event in Greece. The history books will write about our coming together and sing our names to the Gods!” Cassander’s hoarse voice called up with a grin blessing his rustic facials. The thought alone of his name plastered in every Greek pantheon was his dream. It was the ultimate goal for every Greek man. And then some. But Azazel had other plans.

“But you have already laid with me. Why must we wait?” Azazel asked again, her voice becoming more assertive which only seemed to bring a frown to Cassander’s lips; destroying his happiness in an instant. In the meantime, Azazel placed her hands on the side of the balcony wall, white robe keeping her modesty hidden just about as she clambered over the stone.

“No, princess!” One of the women called as she looked upon the sight in horror as the angel dangled herself. It wasn’t a huge drop. But still one which a fragile young woman wouldn’t get away from without a sprained ankle at best. Yet they all were oblivious to the wings on her back which helped her quickly glide down to her feet, landing in a crouching position briefly before inhaling deeply on the warm, salt air which was Athens. Straightening her posture as she turned to face her suitor, Azazel nodded.

“Give us time, my maiden. You are mine, do not worry.” Cassander tried to assure as he watched the sultry angel approach whilst her finger places itself over his lips in order to quieten him.

“Oh, no, my Prince.” Azazel found a smirk coming to her lips as the shadows slowly began to retract; returning to their original positions as their master now had matters in her own hands. Azazel’s beady eyes then glanced over the gladiator’s shoulder who was draped in red robe and sword; glaring at the maids who still had no understanding of anything past purity. Not understanding Azazel’s sudden impulse of greed.

“I think you will find that you... are mine.”