Azrael had become the villain of the piece. Either that or he was a tragically confused hero. Somebody has to be the villain. It may as well be him. Azrael used to believe in heroes and villains. In black and white. He’d been taught to think in black and white. But the wide, wild world isn’t like that, is it? He’d tried to be the hero. He’d tried hard. Had he tried too hard? He’d tried, but the wide, wild world had confused him. He hadn’t been taught about confusion. That things weren’t necessarily black and white. In fact, he’d been trapped by what he’d been taught. And he certainly hadn’t been taught what to do when what he had been taught began to trap him. He’d been constricted by certainty. By a vision in black and white. By duty, responsibility and love. He’d been trapped by things he’d been taught to understand.
So Azrael had removed those things and started from scratch. Cut out what made him vulnerable. Psytopia Adagio 1
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