Highest Rank: #127 in Paranormal (1.14.17) Briseis "Bree" Devereaux is not your average 20-something paramedic. From the time she was 13, she had the uncanny ability to heal and even revive the recently deceased. A gifted Necromancer, she can only...
"And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts And I looked, and behold a pale horse And his name that sat on him was death, and hell followed with him" --Johnny Cash, When the Man Comes Around
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Present Day
Micah walked through the double silver doors to Azrael's office, grumbling under his breath. He wanted to get all his frustration out before facing him. He did not expect such a summon, since everyone, including Azrael, was fully aware of Micah's sabbatical. Reaping for so many centuries, non-stop made him weary and numb. He just wanted to be alone. But when you're the boss's number one reaper, when he calls you into service, you do as you're told. Micah stood at the tabernacle awaiting Azrael's, to tell him what was so urgent he needed to break his word to him, and disturb his holiday.
Standing calm, his hands fashioned behind his back, he waited patiently as the frosted gold doors opened in front of him and a tall, olive skinned man sauntered in. Azrael had his long, dark hair pulled in a ponytail away from his face, which also made it easy to see his light gray, almost white eyes. Against his dark pupils, it gave him a haunting look, which is most likely what he was going for. Though Azrael did not have a joyous job, nor did he aspire to have one, he usually was in a better mood than he seemed to be now. His jaw was stiff and face upturned into a fierce frown. It was clear he had a bone to pick with someone and Micah began to mentally scroll through his recent events to see if he somehow was the culprit of Azrael's angst.
"Greetings brother. How are you, Micah?"
"I'm well, sir. You summoned me?"
"I have. I'm sorry, that I know they called you from your sabbatical, but it's urgent and couldn't wait till you returned from your leave. I hope that's okay."
No, not really, he thought to himself. "That's quite alright, sir. How can I be of assistance?"
"We have a necromancer that is causing trouble for us. She's upsetting the system and I need her wrangled in immediately."
Micah frowned. "There aren't that many necromancers on earth, and the ones that are, aren't any harm to us or our jobs."
"True. Most of them usually just communicate with the deceased to get information, help loved ones cope or get closure, that's all. But this one is different. She is bringing souls back to live as if their death never happened. A complete reanimation of the dead, soul intact." Azrael's face crinkled deeper into a frown, fury mounting just at the thought of someone committing such an act of defiance.
Micah froze with widened eyes. Surely no one was that stupid. Everyone knew that reversing death was akin to kicking the Powers That Be right in the balls. Azrael's balls. That never works out well for anyone involved. Modern witches usually know the score and if they didn't want to face another fallout like the Spanish Inquisition or the Salem Witch Trials, they kept their polished claws off the souls of man. "Does she belong to a coven?"
