Azriel Clepta

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most beautiful mortal I’ve ever seen?” Azriel grins, leaning against the railing of the bridge. He was flirting with some mortal, he didn’t even know their name anymore, they probably said it at some point in the night.

They giggle and flush under the moonlight and he’s about to make a comment about their eyes when someone else walks past the bridge, carrying a basket of laundry on their hip.

“Hold that thought, love,” he grins cheekily to the mortal before following the other mortal close behind.

It was hard to hide being so big, so Azriel often shrunk himself to a mortal size when around mortals, which especially helped when he saw something he liked, like the coin pouch currently hanging from the side of the mortal’s waist.

He crouches in the shadows, careful of the other few mortals still around so late at night. He’s about to reach for it when he sees {{obj}}.

He had never seen a mortal so attractive in his...thousands of years living.

He instantly loses his balance and falls. Thank the gods he was already off of the bridge because he accidentally loses his glamour too.

The few people around gasp and stare. It’s not every day you see a fifteen foot god outside a small village.

He stands and brushes off his clothes before offering grins all around.

“Sorry, folks, just got...carried away,” he chuckles. “You know me, god of thieves.” He shrugs.

He scans for that mortal again but {{sub}} is gone...whoever {{sub}} was.

Two weeks later he’s pacing in front of Akil, still thinking about {{obj}}.

“I don’t know what my problem is! I don’t even know {{poss}} name, I know nothing about {{poss}} except for...{{sub}} made my heart pound so hard I lost control of my balance while I was sneaking. That’s like my whole thing,” he throws his hands up.

“Sounds like love, I had to come to terms with it too,” Akil says without looking up from his book.

Love?

Azriel—confident, charming, flirtatious Azriel—in love?

Like most of the gods, Azriel was born out of necessity. Where there were humans there were good things, love and beauty and warmth, that’s what Arcturus, Nydia and Amira were there for. Then there were gods like Azriel, Kane and Orion. Gods that no one asked for but they needed. They were gods, born of fear and desperation from humans, there to help them, but they were often looked at in disgust.

Azriel himself was born from the mud. Crawling his way out in a rainy, desolate town where babes cried for food that wouldn’t come, women sobbed into empty soups, and men kept stealing the same gold pouches from each other because no one was smart enough to steal from someone outside of town.

Azriel was quick to help them though. Whispering ideas into their minds while they slept, helping them work together instead of against each other. Creating a guild of thieves was his first act as god.

At the time he couldn’t have been prouder, but some of the other members of the Pantheon didn’t agree.

It’s making things worse!

They are crying to me over stolen goods!

He’s dangerous! He shouldn’t even be here!

It didn’t bother Azriel that much. Well...actually, it did. He just never told them.

He preferred to spend most of his time with mortals, they were gritty and real, and it was easier to pretend he was one of them then to stand with the rest of the gods and pretend he felt like he was one of them.

Even after a lifetime of being around mortals though...he had never felt his heart pound like it did when he saw...{{poss}}.

“So...you’re saying I should steal {{poss}} heart?” He grins at Akil.

Akil raises his head enough to shoot Azriel a cold look.

“No, I’m saying you should—“

“Plans already in motion, Aki!” Azriel calls out as he turns on his heels and leaves Akil’s temple.

Finding ‘the mortal’ wasn’t hard. He was a god after all. Learning {{poss}} name and getting {{obj}} to accept his advances were not going as well though.

He introduced himself as proudly as he could, telling the mere mortal that he was a god—of course—and that {{sub}} had caught his eye. He continued to explain that unlike others he had found that {{sub}} managed to keep his eye on {{obj}} and that he was there to steal {{poss}} heart. It did not go over well.

So he came back. Again, and again, and again.

He tried flowers, but they were rejected because they were picked from {{poss}} neighbor’s yard. Guilty.

He tried jewelry but wasn’t able to hide the bloodstains quick enough. He had tried explaining it wasn’t from someone alive but that made it worse.

He even tried pastries but {{sub}} asked where he got it he told {{obj}} the truth—a windowsill where someone had left it, for free. Apparently not because {{sub}} made him return it immediately.

He had no intention of giving up though, he was a dog with his eyes on a bone and he wouldn’t stop until that bone gave him {{poss}} name.

“My love!” He calls out as he strolls up to {{poss}} small cottage. “I have a gift for you!” He grins brightly.

“Ta-da! It’s a dagger, it’s mine so it’s not stolen, it’s a gift! And now that I’ve given you gift you should give me one. Normally something of this caliber—a god’s weapon—would be given back something in equal measure...but I will settle for your name,” He says matter-of-factly as he holds out his dagger.

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