Orchid Espere (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
petal_storm) wrote2021-04-12 02:27 am
petal_storm) wrote2021-04-12 02:27 am
Entry tags:
Sometimes Imaginary friends...
Who: Azzy, the Khans
When: Who even knows how time aligns between hell and here...
What: Desperate childhood decisions can lad to happy lives, right?
He existed for one purpose: to give his father an edge over anything he wanted advantage over. Down the years he learned that encompassed everything, his father wanted dominion over everything or the ability to strike at it's weak points. It was never okay to explain there were just too many possibilities, too many paths, all of them could be real or none of them, Azzy didn't know, he wasn't ALLOWED to know what made things real or imaginary really. His job was to drink the blood given him take the pain when demons felt like hurting him, never EVER whisper about what he saw ahead for his half brother or his sister and just look, clear and clean reflections like glass.
He was just a tool.
A crippled, chained tool.
And he saw so many realities where he wasn't...
...or wasn't anymore. Anymore was that painful, twisting thorn. Somehow THOSE Azlokiels' got out. Somehow they survived and thrived and grew and he hated them nearly as much as he hated knowing his siblings would all abandon him one way or another. They'd go away or get themselves taken away and he'd be left alone with glass for bones in his legs and no food for weeks until he saw what father wanted him to see. The weaker he was the harder it was to focus on any question though, images skittered and jumped like little bugs and circled madly enough to make him moan and clutch his head in agony. Look look look but he couldn't SEE anything when he was weak, why couldn't his father believe that?
Worse, when he was truly weak, when he could barely gasp breathes around the pain and hunger he ended up mired in sand. Always heat licked, scorching sand for miles in his visions. If humans could go to heaven or hell when they died, humans thought, maybe there was an afterlife for demons and it was boring and hot.
And endless.
He knew he was close to dying whenever his visions landed him in the sands, and oddly each time the heat and the nothingness never felt...bad. It sunk into his bones in the visions, it felt like what stories said 'home' was suppose to, or coming home? Except it was big and open and terrifying at the same time. Too many disparate emotions for too weak a system and his heart...probably stopped? Probably, because it let him reach further in the vision until he came up on a person. Another being in this endless waste and they...she? She was running, long and easy strides across the sands and laughing? Not the kind of laughter he knew though, it was...light. Light laughter? It didn't hurt. It didn't make him feel bad, it wasn't aimed, like a weapon.
He didn't know laughter could be like that.
His father wasn't ready to lose a tool though, funny how demons could keep people alive, so his heart started again, dragging him away from that girl and whatever she'd been laughing about but...now he knew the sands weren't empty? That was...comforting. If he knew what comforting even meant.
* * *
She got feelings sometimes, and they got worse once magic swamped the land, her teachers called it 'attunement', an intrinsic understanding of the energies around her? And this feeling was a watcher. Not just any watcher though, one in pain, and that put the hair on her back up as she considered that. These were the sands, they were safe, no one should have to be in pain and NOT getting medical so of course when she'd gotten that feeling on a run she'd stopped, doing a slow scan like Victor had taught her.
Nothing living out there...
...that didn't stop her from grabbing a med kit though. Or bringing one on runs after. Or from finally quartering the sands around her normal path with a good stick to check in dunes for bones. Ghosts were a thing right?
Oh hell what if her natural nulling reflexes had KILLED A GHOST?! Ghosts were energy, and she could shut DOWN energies, usually on reflex, she could have killed KILLED a soul! "I'm sorry!" she yelped softly to the winds when she realized that.
"For what kit?" he brother rumbled, coming over a dune. "You look scared..."
"I maybe killed a ghost!"
Victor blinked, rolling that through his tired, post mission mind a moment, "why would you think that?"
"Something...no, someONE was here last week. Watching, but then they faded away and it didn't feel like a normal person so maybe it was a ghost since I didn't SEE them and maybe I nulled it?" She was working herself up, she knew she was, but she couldn't help it. Maybe killing an energy that was looking for help could have that effect on a girl!
"Breathe, kit," he rumbled, coming down to nip her nose. "Breathe. Were there any scents?" He was checking TOO mind you because people watching Opal was not alright in the least if they were unknowns, but better to give her a task now.
"I..." had there been? She wrinkled her nose, considering, "pain. I smelled pain."
"Then it probably wasn't a ghost," he reasoned gently. "They shouldn't have a scent unless they're trying to mess with someone or they're stuck in a loop, right?"
She tried to remember that book, growling softly, "maybe? I don't...I didn't remember the ghost stuff very well. There's a lot to learn." Since magic came!
"Then you ca ask at the Tower too," he chuckled, pushing her gently back toward home. "Go, you're looking stressed and poofy. I'll double check here."
Opal hesitated a moment, debating, then slowly nodded, "alright, but if you find them tell me? I didn't like the pain smell..."
"Of course kit," h rumbled, watching until she was gone then shifting his attention back to the area, carefully combing for traces and scents of ANYTHING.
* * *
Days and weeks, even months and years, didn't mean anything in his hazy, small world. Who knew how long it'd been since he'd last almost died? Too long, and not long enough, obviously. At least the sands were...quiet, but despite it all he didn't want to die. That was the painful part really, he didn't WANT to die. He should, probably, but life was really hard to just let go of. He managed to glimpse the sands again later, his legs were being broken again, and that sent him over into shock, so sands it was.
Except it wasn't back to the laughing girl, no, now there was some man in the sands, humming thoughtfully to himself then TURNING AROUND TO STARE AT AZZY. Oh hell nope. NOPE NOPE NOPE. No toothy men bigger than him NOPE!
"Pain," Victor rumbled softly. "She was right, you smell like pain whatever you are."
Whatever...? COULD THIS GUY SEE HIM?! A quick bit of scrambling and...no it didn't seem so. But the man smelled him? That was weird, watching a creepy cat guy orienting on him every time he moved. Yup.
"And now panic," Victor drawled. "So are you a good invisible thing or a bad invisible thing?"
Invisible? Why did that seem...oh. OH SHIT. He was walking. Out of body. OUT OF BODY AZLOKIEL WAS PROBABLY GOING TO DIE IF HIS FATHER FOUND OUT! He clawed his way back toward the distant, burning pain of his physical body and gasped, coughing on whatever wretched bit of blood his father had deemed necessary for 'healing'. Oh hell oh hell...he could...
...spirit walk.
That was surprising. And weird. And scary. None of the other Azzy's he'd seen on the paths had been able to leave their bodies. Uncharted territory was enough to send him into a whimpering panic cycle, luckily that was something his father tended to enjoy in him so no new harm was cooked up but still. He could do this and HADN'T. He could have been out seeing the worlds, or at least seeing where his siblings had ended up, instead he'd stayed all caged up like a good little imp. Oh that was bitter wasn't it? Hell was full of people crafting their own traps, why hadn't he expected it?
It took longer to pull his thoughts together around that revelation. He was stuck because of himself, hahahaha, funny. Funny and utterly heart breaking, if he had a heart in that sense, he wasn't certain he did. He could have run.
Why didn't he run?
The third time he found someone in the sands it was on purpose. He'd finally worked up the nerve to TRY to visit on purpose, which was probably how he ended up near the girl again. She was stretched out on a sandy, flat terrace of a roof, sunbathing maybe? Probably, that was a thing right?
"Victor says you're real," she noted without even opening her eyes.
Was he? He wasn't sure anymore, his brain felt like splintered edges these days, especially after the spiral of madness and laughter the last few weeks had been. "Am I?"
"Yup," she sat up, wincing, "still smell like pa-OH YOUR POOR LEGS!"
She could see him.
She could SEE him.
"...what?" The girl was moving, coming over to mewl at the sight of his twisted legs, but, well, "I don't need them..." he was floating?
"They're YOUR legs and you smell all over pain, that shouldn't have to be a thing," she sniffed then winced as her hand went through his shoulder.
That felt really weird honestly.
"Opal, who are you talking too up there?"
"The boy that smells like pain!"
Vicca poked her head up over the edge of the roof, blinking, "what boy?"
"This one right here!" she pointed, whimpering.
"Invisible boy?"
"What? No..."
"I do smell pain though," Vicca admitted.
Pain. They all smelled pain. They shouldn't have to...so he winced and faded away again.
Back to torture.
Back to looking, looking, looking, he was so tired of looking, but if he got away his father would just pull him back, right? With his...
...name.
That was a second spiral of horror honestly; he KNEW father had his sister's true name, and maybe his half brothers, but their father had never compelled HIM with his name. He'd just assumed the head of household had all the names of his children as collars. Oh how hell liked to push and break people didn't it? It hurt to live here. To breathe here. So...what if he didn't have to?
Out of body was weird, there weren't defined rules or laid out knowledge, so figuring out what he could do was all trial and error for a while, but eventually it boiled down to...he wanted to go back to the sands and only a single, shining thread kept him tethered to his broken shell of a body. All that was HIM, himself, powers and mind, went walking when he did, so...with a bitter laugh he reached out and broke that strand, then yelped as the power blowback sent him spinning away, his physical body floating into the air and...freezing.
Stasis.
Kind of.
No one could actually touch his body, it was like it wasn't really in the same reality as the castle anymore. It was just frozen in time like a fly in amber, and h was wheeling toward the bright, beckoning sands. He knew how he could stay...
...this time when he arrived he pushed Opal's shoulder gently with teke, "I know this won't make sense but I need you to hold something safe for me," he admitted, then leaned forward to whisper the burning syllables of his name in her ear before he could change his mind. It needed to be somewhere safe since he didn't have a body to keep it in now, and the girl yelped but listened, locking it away deep inside. "I don't think anyone else can see me but I'm here, I'm safe here I think..."
"We're a safe place," Opal agreed softly, "you don't ever have to leave."
"I...want that."
"I'm Opal," she offered her name in kind.
Really, that was how Opal gained an 'imaginary' friend, at least as far as the outside world was concerned. Her siblings seemed to know better, but try as he might they couldn't hear or see him, just that damn scent he never managed to escape. It was nice to not be alone though, and he...learned. So many things in a world, like baking, and running, and tackle the cat...
...it was home, wasn't it? Opal never hesitated to share with him, let him taste with her tongue when 'chewing' a cookies with his abilities didn't really achieve much. Let him share and feel and GROW and wasn't that amazing? And it all...nearly...ended.
He didn't see it coming, he'd gotten out of the habit of looking ahead, content to live day to day in his new, strange world and t hat nearly got people killed. The first sign something was wrong was when Opal blinked, then slowly listed sideways out of her chair, he was scrambling to catch her when the other girls did the same, though admittedly with more angry fighting. "NEURAL NET!" Victoria managed to growl, packing tape tumbling from her hands.
It was suppose to be simple, packing up Vicine since someone had bought out the block that said sister's bakery was in. Move her to a new zone to open a new bakery and he'd been careless. Victor wasn't there, the crazy cat he KNEW could fight through a neural stasis, hell Victoria probably could given time but he was pretty sure it was Victor' kind of crazy that let him do it but THAT CAT WASN'T THERE AND HE HAD AN ARMFUL OF TERRIFIED OPAL.
He hated seeing her afraid, how not? He knew what it was like to be powerless so he looked, mental voice catching on a scream as the possibilities poured in. What happened if the girls were taken. What happened to Victor. To himself. The madness they'd feed on each other and burn the world until the girls didn't recognize them when they were finally found and Opal...
...they were going to touch Opal. Trying to clone, or breed, her unique and controlled null abilities, the other sisters were just genetic bonuses really.
That.
Was.
Not.
ALLOWED.
The room shook with his rage, parts of Vicine's life falling to pieces around the downed girls while Azzy stood and faced the door in. The men weren't effected by the net, so those first few in simply exploded, whatever they were wearing showering over the girls. Something would help he was sure, the rest, well...he played with, a whirlwind of bone blood and bone until he felt one of the girls stirring. He had to rein it in then, to a degree, but Victoria didn't seem very aware of WHO all was bad at that point...so he growled mentally, a sound copied from the tigers he'd been living with for years, and pulled one of the bits of debris around himself. He remembered it even, a 'teddy bear' he and Opal had found at a sale to get for Vicine because at the time it had had an apron and little bakers tray in hand. Now it was a floating head of leaking stuffing and trailing message box...
...excellent. His head now, yes, once he pulled the rest of the stuffing out, the voice box let him grate out noises for a bit until he figured out how to make it behave, "I'm here, they want Opal!"
That was enough for the commander of Patrol yes, and for her waking sisters. No one left that room alive except those who'd been invited. After the fight, well, Opal draped a sheet around his shoulders and kissed the cheek that was showing through a hole in his bear head, "my hero!" Obviously! And every hero needed a cape?
Who knew?
It was...utterly silly, but he...loved it. His cape, yes. His Opal. His...home.
His...sands? Or really, his 'sand training' because in Victor's words once e got to scene, 'anyone with that much rage needs training', so Azzy even learned to wear gear properly, and 'run' even if he didn't actually run, because next time...
...next time he'd be a better hero.
When: Who even knows how time aligns between hell and here...
What: Desperate childhood decisions can lad to happy lives, right?
He existed for one purpose: to give his father an edge over anything he wanted advantage over. Down the years he learned that encompassed everything, his father wanted dominion over everything or the ability to strike at it's weak points. It was never okay to explain there were just too many possibilities, too many paths, all of them could be real or none of them, Azzy didn't know, he wasn't ALLOWED to know what made things real or imaginary really. His job was to drink the blood given him take the pain when demons felt like hurting him, never EVER whisper about what he saw ahead for his half brother or his sister and just look, clear and clean reflections like glass.
He was just a tool.
A crippled, chained tool.
And he saw so many realities where he wasn't...
...or wasn't anymore. Anymore was that painful, twisting thorn. Somehow THOSE Azlokiels' got out. Somehow they survived and thrived and grew and he hated them nearly as much as he hated knowing his siblings would all abandon him one way or another. They'd go away or get themselves taken away and he'd be left alone with glass for bones in his legs and no food for weeks until he saw what father wanted him to see. The weaker he was the harder it was to focus on any question though, images skittered and jumped like little bugs and circled madly enough to make him moan and clutch his head in agony. Look look look but he couldn't SEE anything when he was weak, why couldn't his father believe that?
Worse, when he was truly weak, when he could barely gasp breathes around the pain and hunger he ended up mired in sand. Always heat licked, scorching sand for miles in his visions. If humans could go to heaven or hell when they died, humans thought, maybe there was an afterlife for demons and it was boring and hot.
And endless.
He knew he was close to dying whenever his visions landed him in the sands, and oddly each time the heat and the nothingness never felt...bad. It sunk into his bones in the visions, it felt like what stories said 'home' was suppose to, or coming home? Except it was big and open and terrifying at the same time. Too many disparate emotions for too weak a system and his heart...probably stopped? Probably, because it let him reach further in the vision until he came up on a person. Another being in this endless waste and they...she? She was running, long and easy strides across the sands and laughing? Not the kind of laughter he knew though, it was...light. Light laughter? It didn't hurt. It didn't make him feel bad, it wasn't aimed, like a weapon.
He didn't know laughter could be like that.
His father wasn't ready to lose a tool though, funny how demons could keep people alive, so his heart started again, dragging him away from that girl and whatever she'd been laughing about but...now he knew the sands weren't empty? That was...comforting. If he knew what comforting even meant.
* * *
She got feelings sometimes, and they got worse once magic swamped the land, her teachers called it 'attunement', an intrinsic understanding of the energies around her? And this feeling was a watcher. Not just any watcher though, one in pain, and that put the hair on her back up as she considered that. These were the sands, they were safe, no one should have to be in pain and NOT getting medical so of course when she'd gotten that feeling on a run she'd stopped, doing a slow scan like Victor had taught her.
Nothing living out there...
...that didn't stop her from grabbing a med kit though. Or bringing one on runs after. Or from finally quartering the sands around her normal path with a good stick to check in dunes for bones. Ghosts were a thing right?
Oh hell what if her natural nulling reflexes had KILLED A GHOST?! Ghosts were energy, and she could shut DOWN energies, usually on reflex, she could have killed KILLED a soul! "I'm sorry!" she yelped softly to the winds when she realized that.
"For what kit?" he brother rumbled, coming over a dune. "You look scared..."
"I maybe killed a ghost!"
Victor blinked, rolling that through his tired, post mission mind a moment, "why would you think that?"
"Something...no, someONE was here last week. Watching, but then they faded away and it didn't feel like a normal person so maybe it was a ghost since I didn't SEE them and maybe I nulled it?" She was working herself up, she knew she was, but she couldn't help it. Maybe killing an energy that was looking for help could have that effect on a girl!
"Breathe, kit," he rumbled, coming down to nip her nose. "Breathe. Were there any scents?" He was checking TOO mind you because people watching Opal was not alright in the least if they were unknowns, but better to give her a task now.
"I..." had there been? She wrinkled her nose, considering, "pain. I smelled pain."
"Then it probably wasn't a ghost," he reasoned gently. "They shouldn't have a scent unless they're trying to mess with someone or they're stuck in a loop, right?"
She tried to remember that book, growling softly, "maybe? I don't...I didn't remember the ghost stuff very well. There's a lot to learn." Since magic came!
"Then you ca ask at the Tower too," he chuckled, pushing her gently back toward home. "Go, you're looking stressed and poofy. I'll double check here."
Opal hesitated a moment, debating, then slowly nodded, "alright, but if you find them tell me? I didn't like the pain smell..."
"Of course kit," h rumbled, watching until she was gone then shifting his attention back to the area, carefully combing for traces and scents of ANYTHING.
* * *
Days and weeks, even months and years, didn't mean anything in his hazy, small world. Who knew how long it'd been since he'd last almost died? Too long, and not long enough, obviously. At least the sands were...quiet, but despite it all he didn't want to die. That was the painful part really, he didn't WANT to die. He should, probably, but life was really hard to just let go of. He managed to glimpse the sands again later, his legs were being broken again, and that sent him over into shock, so sands it was.
Except it wasn't back to the laughing girl, no, now there was some man in the sands, humming thoughtfully to himself then TURNING AROUND TO STARE AT AZZY. Oh hell nope. NOPE NOPE NOPE. No toothy men bigger than him NOPE!
"Pain," Victor rumbled softly. "She was right, you smell like pain whatever you are."
Whatever...? COULD THIS GUY SEE HIM?! A quick bit of scrambling and...no it didn't seem so. But the man smelled him? That was weird, watching a creepy cat guy orienting on him every time he moved. Yup.
"And now panic," Victor drawled. "So are you a good invisible thing or a bad invisible thing?"
Invisible? Why did that seem...oh. OH SHIT. He was walking. Out of body. OUT OF BODY AZLOKIEL WAS PROBABLY GOING TO DIE IF HIS FATHER FOUND OUT! He clawed his way back toward the distant, burning pain of his physical body and gasped, coughing on whatever wretched bit of blood his father had deemed necessary for 'healing'. Oh hell oh hell...he could...
...spirit walk.
That was surprising. And weird. And scary. None of the other Azzy's he'd seen on the paths had been able to leave their bodies. Uncharted territory was enough to send him into a whimpering panic cycle, luckily that was something his father tended to enjoy in him so no new harm was cooked up but still. He could do this and HADN'T. He could have been out seeing the worlds, or at least seeing where his siblings had ended up, instead he'd stayed all caged up like a good little imp. Oh that was bitter wasn't it? Hell was full of people crafting their own traps, why hadn't he expected it?
It took longer to pull his thoughts together around that revelation. He was stuck because of himself, hahahaha, funny. Funny and utterly heart breaking, if he had a heart in that sense, he wasn't certain he did. He could have run.
Why didn't he run?
The third time he found someone in the sands it was on purpose. He'd finally worked up the nerve to TRY to visit on purpose, which was probably how he ended up near the girl again. She was stretched out on a sandy, flat terrace of a roof, sunbathing maybe? Probably, that was a thing right?
"Victor says you're real," she noted without even opening her eyes.
Was he? He wasn't sure anymore, his brain felt like splintered edges these days, especially after the spiral of madness and laughter the last few weeks had been. "Am I?"
"Yup," she sat up, wincing, "still smell like pa-OH YOUR POOR LEGS!"
She could see him.
She could SEE him.
"...what?" The girl was moving, coming over to mewl at the sight of his twisted legs, but, well, "I don't need them..." he was floating?
"They're YOUR legs and you smell all over pain, that shouldn't have to be a thing," she sniffed then winced as her hand went through his shoulder.
That felt really weird honestly.
"Opal, who are you talking too up there?"
"The boy that smells like pain!"
Vicca poked her head up over the edge of the roof, blinking, "what boy?"
"This one right here!" she pointed, whimpering.
"Invisible boy?"
"What? No..."
"I do smell pain though," Vicca admitted.
Pain. They all smelled pain. They shouldn't have to...so he winced and faded away again.
Back to torture.
Back to looking, looking, looking, he was so tired of looking, but if he got away his father would just pull him back, right? With his...
...name.
That was a second spiral of horror honestly; he KNEW father had his sister's true name, and maybe his half brothers, but their father had never compelled HIM with his name. He'd just assumed the head of household had all the names of his children as collars. Oh how hell liked to push and break people didn't it? It hurt to live here. To breathe here. So...what if he didn't have to?
Out of body was weird, there weren't defined rules or laid out knowledge, so figuring out what he could do was all trial and error for a while, but eventually it boiled down to...he wanted to go back to the sands and only a single, shining thread kept him tethered to his broken shell of a body. All that was HIM, himself, powers and mind, went walking when he did, so...with a bitter laugh he reached out and broke that strand, then yelped as the power blowback sent him spinning away, his physical body floating into the air and...freezing.
Stasis.
Kind of.
No one could actually touch his body, it was like it wasn't really in the same reality as the castle anymore. It was just frozen in time like a fly in amber, and h was wheeling toward the bright, beckoning sands. He knew how he could stay...
...this time when he arrived he pushed Opal's shoulder gently with teke, "I know this won't make sense but I need you to hold something safe for me," he admitted, then leaned forward to whisper the burning syllables of his name in her ear before he could change his mind. It needed to be somewhere safe since he didn't have a body to keep it in now, and the girl yelped but listened, locking it away deep inside. "I don't think anyone else can see me but I'm here, I'm safe here I think..."
"We're a safe place," Opal agreed softly, "you don't ever have to leave."
"I...want that."
"I'm Opal," she offered her name in kind.
Really, that was how Opal gained an 'imaginary' friend, at least as far as the outside world was concerned. Her siblings seemed to know better, but try as he might they couldn't hear or see him, just that damn scent he never managed to escape. It was nice to not be alone though, and he...learned. So many things in a world, like baking, and running, and tackle the cat...
...it was home, wasn't it? Opal never hesitated to share with him, let him taste with her tongue when 'chewing' a cookies with his abilities didn't really achieve much. Let him share and feel and GROW and wasn't that amazing? And it all...nearly...ended.
He didn't see it coming, he'd gotten out of the habit of looking ahead, content to live day to day in his new, strange world and t hat nearly got people killed. The first sign something was wrong was when Opal blinked, then slowly listed sideways out of her chair, he was scrambling to catch her when the other girls did the same, though admittedly with more angry fighting. "NEURAL NET!" Victoria managed to growl, packing tape tumbling from her hands.
It was suppose to be simple, packing up Vicine since someone had bought out the block that said sister's bakery was in. Move her to a new zone to open a new bakery and he'd been careless. Victor wasn't there, the crazy cat he KNEW could fight through a neural stasis, hell Victoria probably could given time but he was pretty sure it was Victor' kind of crazy that let him do it but THAT CAT WASN'T THERE AND HE HAD AN ARMFUL OF TERRIFIED OPAL.
He hated seeing her afraid, how not? He knew what it was like to be powerless so he looked, mental voice catching on a scream as the possibilities poured in. What happened if the girls were taken. What happened to Victor. To himself. The madness they'd feed on each other and burn the world until the girls didn't recognize them when they were finally found and Opal...
...they were going to touch Opal. Trying to clone, or breed, her unique and controlled null abilities, the other sisters were just genetic bonuses really.
That.
Was.
Not.
ALLOWED.
The room shook with his rage, parts of Vicine's life falling to pieces around the downed girls while Azzy stood and faced the door in. The men weren't effected by the net, so those first few in simply exploded, whatever they were wearing showering over the girls. Something would help he was sure, the rest, well...he played with, a whirlwind of bone blood and bone until he felt one of the girls stirring. He had to rein it in then, to a degree, but Victoria didn't seem very aware of WHO all was bad at that point...so he growled mentally, a sound copied from the tigers he'd been living with for years, and pulled one of the bits of debris around himself. He remembered it even, a 'teddy bear' he and Opal had found at a sale to get for Vicine because at the time it had had an apron and little bakers tray in hand. Now it was a floating head of leaking stuffing and trailing message box...
...excellent. His head now, yes, once he pulled the rest of the stuffing out, the voice box let him grate out noises for a bit until he figured out how to make it behave, "I'm here, they want Opal!"
That was enough for the commander of Patrol yes, and for her waking sisters. No one left that room alive except those who'd been invited. After the fight, well, Opal draped a sheet around his shoulders and kissed the cheek that was showing through a hole in his bear head, "my hero!" Obviously! And every hero needed a cape?
Who knew?
It was...utterly silly, but he...loved it. His cape, yes. His Opal. His...home.
His...sands? Or really, his 'sand training' because in Victor's words once e got to scene, 'anyone with that much rage needs training', so Azzy even learned to wear gear properly, and 'run' even if he didn't actually run, because next time...
...next time he'd be a better hero.