Azazael

[zanten]

Azazael

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OLD, Leader, 3rd Leader of the Watchers, Matt Smith

At six foot one, Azazael looks more like a smug college student than an ancient entity, but this actually serves to his advantage, making him look unthreatening and quite likeable to even the most cautious of observers. This is usually accented by the easy smile and cheeky winks that can cross his face at a moment's notice, and a pleasant voice that can easily entrance the listener. In particular, his bright blue eyes seem to twinkle in the light, playful and inviting trust. Of course, this is only when he is in the company of those he likes, or wishes to fool. When he is crossed, his features often seem carved from ice, devoid of any softness and brimming with barely repressed hostility. Those same eyes seem to gleam in these instances, narrowed only slightly, and filled with enough intensity to make anyone uneasy.

His host body's years on the battlefield and intensive exercise afterwards have left his body lean and well-muscled, without an inch of unnecessary flesh. His hands, in particular, bear many small white scars along the knuckles and fingers, and are heavily calloused; the fingernail of his right thumb is gone completely, the normally sensitive skin underneath hardened and tough. As a result, he will generally prefer to wear black gloves when out with higher society, concealing what would probably be the most unattractive part of him. Why he hasn't simply repaired the damage to the host is a matter of some uncertainty, as he'll never reveal his motivations.

His attire varies depending on the social setting, but the clothing is always tailored and expensive; even in the most casual situations, such as seeing his brother, he'll often wear nothing less than a button-up shirt, jacket, and trousers, along with impeccably polished black shoes. As he's told others on more than one occasion, you can never be sure who's watching, and for Azazael, appearance is often key. This doesn't simply mean matching the extravagance of those who surround him, however; in social engagements with New York's upper class, he will often stand out in the crowd by choice of attire alone, dressing in dark, solid colors that cover every inch of him; if he wears black, everything will be black, if dark blue, the same, and so forth, but always finished with a leather duster, dyed to whatever color his outfit currently is.

Azazael is, for all intents and purposes, the center of any room; even as a teenager in his father's dinner parties, he was always ready with some flattery to bring smiles, a joke to lighten the room, and the right combination of words to be adored. These talents, though admittedly unused during their exile, he has only focused all the harder on recovering that charm and confidence since his return. When amongst others, he often has a wide smile on his face, a chipper, bubbly exterior, and an almost daft sense of humor that endears him to all but the most stubborn or paranoid of people. He does not quite share most of his kind's decided contempt for the human race, rather finding the concept of corporeal existence ultimately fascinating and quite entertaining; he enjoys to eat, travel and experience all the quaint little effects of having a human body, perhaps in part because he has spent so long is utter isolation and exile. He even 'allows' his body to become intoxicated on occasion, just to see what it's like, and in many ways these oddities have generally been enough to; this clean openness to new experience has allowed him to adapt to the new time surprisingly well, considering how long he has been left 'out of the loop.'

Underneath the veneer of a charming gentleman, however, a far darker side lurks. Though he rarely shows it, a simmering rage remains a near constant companion for the man who has felt nothing short of betrayed by God and the Host of Heaven. An egotist, this callous dismissal of his contributions, and the punishment to which he was subjected, was too much for him to take, and so he turned his talents, and his formidable mind, to finding new ways by which he might right the wrongs. However, his malaise occasionally extends to his own compatriots, though usually in nothing more harmful than a little sarcasm or distrust; he sees many of his comrades as the reason he was sealed away, Shemyazaz in particular. He is no less a fighter than his compatriots, however, unafraid to place himself in harm's way, or to order those loyal to him into dangerous territory; after all, he believes to have already faced the worst there is, and still survived. Though he acts more the vagrant than the warrior, he has a keen mind, making him an asset to the Watchers. Probably a large part of why they choose to tolerate his... eccentricities.

Among the two hundred Watchers who sought to teach forbidden skills and arts to the race of Man, Azazael quickly rose amidst them to the rank of third in command due to his crafty nature and considerable skill. He was also largely responsible in teaching the race of Man the development and use of specific tools and crafts, ranging from weapons such as swords, shields and other manners of forging metal, to the design and creation of jewelery and other means to decorate the body. In many ways God assigned to him blame for much of the sin and corruption of mankind, and it was to him that Raphael was sent, with instructions to bind him and seal him away in a place of jagged rocks and darkness for all eternity.

Though the fallen Angel thought to protect himself, he was unable to defeat the archangel, particularly with the support of God against him, and he was subdued. In the middle of nowhere, a harsh wasteland, he was bound and cast into the pit, without hope of salvation or forgiveness. There, fully conscious but unable to so much as move, the fallen angel spent what truly felt like an eternity locked away with his own thoughts, an endless inner tirade of disbelief, then anger, then hate, and finally despair... in time he found himself longing for even the simplest of freedoms, thinking that to even be permitted a dank cell with a barred window would be akin to the entirety of the universe. So scarred and broken by the endless solitude was he, in fact, that it took him several days to react when he was finally, and inexplicable released just a short time ago.

However, once it sunk in that his time of captivity was at an end, he clearly intended to make up for lost time. Upon his release from his eternal prison, Azazael seems to have gained more than a little cynicism over the entire philosophical force that had driven their efforts, as rather than immediately join his fellows upon their release, he instead scattered across the world, taking a human host and proceeding to simply... exist. In truth, it was likely he feared the returning attention and punishment of God, wishing not to draw notice and therefore risk a return to that horrid prison, but as time went on and no divine wrath fell, he began to realize that things were not as they had once been. It was only then that he began to- carefully- extend back into the wider world beyond that of mortals, and when he realized that God had by all appearances departed, he realized that this time the Watchers may indeed stand some small hope of success. Even so, he is not the same gung-ho Watcher he once was, balancing his loyalty to the other 199 with just a little caution and self-interest.

He had already sacrifised so much, after all; he saw no reason to risk returning to that dark hole in the world.[/center]

Squishie[/size]
None, Newfoundlander time, email: [e-mail]

[Yin Izumi]