Eyes of Azure | Assassination Classroom

:: Attempt 05 | Better Off Dead ::

[Author's Note: A vast majority of the soon-to-follow chapters may be depressing. Foreshadowing may also occur.]

:: Attempt 05 | Better Off Dead ::

"When all you got is these four walls,
It's not that hard to feel so small,
Or even exist at all.
How come no one heard her when she said,

"Maybe I'm better off dead;
If I was would it finally be enough
To shut out all those voices in my head?
Maybe I'm better off dead.
Better off dead!
Did you hear a word--
Hear a word I said?
This is not where I belong,
You're gonna miss me when I'm gone. (Gone, gone)
This is not where I belong,
You're gonna miss me when I'm gone."
- "Better Off Dead" by Sleeping With Sirens

x + x

'He used to think that one day, perhaps she would forgive the wrongs he had committed.

'Now he stands before her door, a prickly sensation in the feathers of his wings. He loathes the feeling; it gives him a sense of unease, and he swallows thickly, folding his wings as he shifts his weight onto his dominant foot. He misses the freedom of flying in the open air; inside these close quarters, he feels claustrophobic, and he stares at the small sliver of light through the tiny window.

'You must coerce the princess to come out of her isolation, he reminds himself, and he raises his hand to knock against the door - made of the strongest crystal in the Kingdom, the angelica.

'He hesitates, breathing deeply as he murmurs a single sentence.

'"Forgive me."'

For some inexplicable reason, I find words to be a double-edged blade. They create fantasies, nurture dreams and hopes, and help emotions blossom within the hearts of many. They are the instruments of communication, woven by each one's preference and tailored to suit their needs.

Yet, they too cause turmoil within the populace which they admittedly often help; insults spark petty quarrels in day to day scenarios more often than one may admit.

If that is so, why do I still continue to write? To inscribe these seemingly nonsensical ideas of mine onto paper?

My fingers tremble as I shift my grasp upon my pen.

'He raps his knuckles against the smooth surface of the crystal, resisting the urge to rest his forehead against it. "My lady," he calls, keeping his voice lowered to the tone most often used by the Instructors to calm a tempestuous scholar.

'"The Seraphic Council has asked me to--"

'"Leave, Azrael," he hears her voice say with an almost unnoticeable tremor. If he closes his eyes at that moment, he can almost envision her curled in on herself, her tattered wings barely covering her trembling figure. "I know that He has assigned you to force me out of this prison I have created for myself."

'He immediately stiffens at the mention of his name, and he bows his head as a faint tinge of color touches his pallid cheeks. "Lilith," he tries again, "the Fall was not your fault. It was--"'