faithbound. [marquis & Earinor]

"The best human is still not enough to defeat a vampire. You saw what happened.", Azrael was quick to shut the priest down. Thy caught her off guard with whatever it was that happened to her and made her stop for long enough to make their mistake, but Ignatius had been hurt badly and he'd been shaking too. Now it was like he forgot all about it, which meant he didn't learn anything and would rush straight ahead into danger again, thinking he was invincible. Azrael couldn't protect someone like him and he wasn't willing to sacrifice his own life for someone like him. His god seemed to make him stronger, but that didn't mean this god, or his church or he himself were just. Azrael didn't trust any of them and this salvation journey might as well cause harm to a lot of people in the end, just to further a singular persons goal.

When Ignatius used his magic, Azrael felt a short warm burst and then that was it. All the pain he had felt was gone, even the blue marks underneath his skin disappeared and when he moved his wrist, it possibly felt even better than before. His scars were still there, but he didn't ask for them to be healed anyway. Was he supposed to thank this man now? He didn't and he tried to contain his surprise and slight amazement. Instead he got up. "Do you need more of a break or can we keep going?", he asked. So what, this man could just heal any fatigue? Did they even have to take breaks to begin with? No drawbacks to healing Azraels bones? He somehow hated the fact that it seemed so easy.

God's will was but a pebble in his path to true greatness, the priests of his assumed faith had once boasted loudly. As truth be told, Ignatius thought of them as nothing but idiotic herectics, of gullible insect swarms that felt as if the great tree that raised them was but an old oak that had outlived its usefulness long ago and that but a few men were enough to end what was the foundation of existence, that which had given their pitiful selves life. Was this what becoming independent, what leaving behind home were for any normal human? Ignatius could not fathom it within his scope of reality, his existence of otherness, his life of less than and more than at the very same point in time. "Hence why one must strive for greatness. I will admit, I am in over my head, but the way it had my blood pumping felt as if it were destiny ... let me guess, my kind does not make for a long lasting existence in your line of work, does it?" They were foolish, prattling people that had but a mouth without the skill to back it up. Wishful thinking was what but the rich and mighty could use to further their own agenda, blazing bright like the sun in the sky above that cast either life or death upon them, much like any god that had enough of its creation.

No cur of this world would be enough to slay the truly righteous, the one that commanded gods will and his very essence upon this lawless land, but Ignatius was, if anything, still a vessel of essence, still a puppet body made of flesh. Wrong or right, while perhaps not different from black and white, was no way to judge the multifacets of every situation and Azrael, poor and fallible Azrael, was but another pebble - one Ignatius kicked over the beaten path, simply for an advantage that he would otherwise never live to see. Support was like a sweet treat, a helping hand of realization. A cough parted his lips, another followed as he looked the other way - the color was not drained from his face as much as it could be, it simply sat there for the fraction of time that it took him to even assume the world would stop revolving around his complex relationship with the perceived greatness of his own. "Whenever you're ready.", Ignatius proclaimed, unfazed by the ache in his side and the lightheadedness that followed in the blink of an eye. The five stages of grief and healing rushed through him in the blink of an eye and Ignatius felt whole after, yet distraught. "Unless you need a moment?" Was Azrael as confused as he was or what?