The first sound that escaped the small and, let's be honest, newly-expelled Azra'il was not a cry. In fact, it wasn't any sound at all. My blue eyes, which had witnessed the birth and death of galaxies, opened to a dimly lit room, absorbing the scene of my own arrival with a serenity that, I knew, would be profoundly unsettling to any remotely sane observer. The room reeked of a potent concoction of cheap alcohol, sour sweat, and blood – mostly, I suspected, from the unfortunate creature now lying unconscious on the makeshift bed, who, technically, was my mother. For the next few hours, at least.
[Post-partum status initiated. All receptacle systems functioning adequately. Ah, I see the universe continues to display its… special affection for you. Frankly, I can't recall the last time you had a start in life that wasn't entirely, and forgive my vulgarity, in the shite.]
(You know, Eos,) I thought, as my new, tiny lungs adjusted to the stale air, (after a few eternities, you sort of get used to cosmic irony. Besides, being born with a silver spoon in my mouth would be atrociously dull. And you have to admit, being birthed by someone in the throes of an overdose? You can't say our start here is monotonous.)
[Your knack for finding humour in the most unimaginable situations remains… disturbingly impressive. Though I still maintain the universe could be a tad less… creative in its trials and tribulations. Perhaps an occasional bee sting would suffice?]
(Where would be the fun in that? And a bee sting can be surprisingly painful, depending on the bee. Besides, you know what they say: what doesn't kill you…)
[…causes significant trauma that will be explored by interdimensional therapists for millennia or, more likely, kills you again in another reality in an even more creative fashion?]
(Precisely. I see you're getting the hang of it.)
"What in the bloody hell is this?" one of the women present exclaimed, snatching her hands away from me as if she'd touched something particularly radioactive and sewer-drenched.
[Ah, the welcoming committee has made its grand entrance. Always so warm and receptive…]
"Let me see… By the Gods!" replied another, her nose wrinkled in a grimace of pure disgust that would have made a Nurgling feel complimented. "It's one of those… abominations. Neither a proper boy nor a proper girl. And look… it's got wolf's ears and a tail!"
(As if you've ever seen a wolf up close in your miserable life, you creature devoid of originality in your insults,) I thought with morbid amusement, trying to wiggle my new, pointed ears, which were, indeed, quite lupine.
[Environmental hostility detected and catalogued. Lupine traits of the Beastman DNA more evident than predicted in initial simulations. Your ears and tail are causing the usual uproar, I see. Classic.]
"As if being the spawn of a drugged-up slag wasn't enough," a third voice, this one harsher and laced with casual cruelty, grumbled, "it had to come out faulty and a Beastman half-breed too. This one's born cursed. I bet the father was one of those mangy, wild Beastmen that roam the forests. Just look at those monster ears!"
(Technically,) I reflected, feeling the faint, familiar tingle of my own essential nature beneath my infant skin, (she's not entirely wrong about the cursed part. Just missed the mark by a few millennia and multiple dimensions.)
[Oh, sweet, blessed ignorance. If only they knew what truly nestled within this small, adorable bundle of trouble…]
"Is the trollop still breathing?" someone asked, the contempt in her voice so palpable it could have been bottled and sold as poison.
"Barely. Nasty overdose. Won't last the night."
(What a poetic and memorable way to begin another life,) I mused, with a dash of genuine appreciation for the inherent drama. (Born from shite and imminent death, as always. The universe has quite a specific sense of humour.)
[Receptacle's physical status: Adequate, despite treatment that would be considered criminal negligence in at least 73% of catalogued realities. Intersex condition stable – another of fate's charming little ironies that seem to follow you. Beastman genes fully manifested – lupine ears and tail perfectly formed and, dare I say, quite fetching for a newborn. Ocular system functional – the 'Limitless' ability is dormant, as is standard in early infancy.]
"Look at those eyes… too blue, like cold embers, proper devil's eyes," someone spat, the words laced with an almost religious aversion. "And that wolf's tail… it's a complete freak."
(If only they knew how many demons I've confronted, bargained with, and, on a few particularly tedious occasions, become,) I thought with an irony that warmed my small, newly-formed heart.
[Or how many you've accidentally created through sheer cosmic negligence. Remember that time in Sector Gamma-7?]
(Details, Eos, details.)
The acrid smell of mould and cheap disinfectant from the orphanage was the next olfactory sensation my brain registered, along with more rough hands turning and prodding me like a suspect cut of meat at the butcher's. The journey there had been particularly… memorable. Wrapped in a blanket that had seen better days – and probably entire wars – I was practically hurled onto the back seat of a clapped-out car that stank of stale cigarettes, lifelong regrets, and possibly a dead skunk.
[Ah, I see the specialised transport service for unwanted newborns maintains its usual standard of excellence across dimensions. A five-star service in misery.]
(At least this time I wasn't put in a basket and set adrift on a river infested with mutant crocodiles,) I thought, recalling a particularly damp and scaly incarnation.
[True. That life of yours as a reluctant prophet in a post-apocalyptic aquatic world was particularly… moist. And the crocodiles weren't mutant, they were just very, very large and hungry.]
The car juddered to a halt so abruptly my small body slid across the seat, almost making me test the durability of my new skull against the door. Said door creaked open, and the cold, biting night air of Raven's End invaded the vehicle.
"Here, Sister. Another one for your private menagerie," said the driver, a woman with a face that looked like she'd given up on life three times before breakfast. She picked me up like one might a leaking bag of organic waste. "This one's special. Half-breed, if you catch my drift."
[Menagerie? Well, technically, considering your lupine genetic traits and your capacity to cause continental-scale chaos… they're not entirely wrong.]
(Shut it, Eos.)
The matron, a woman with a face as stern as a tombstone and eyes that had seen the worst of humanity and asked for more, examined the small, pathetic creature in her arms with a mixture of professional revulsion and weary resignation.
"Another cast-off from the city's dregs," her voice sighed, the tone as uplifting as an obituary. "And a Beastman half-breed to boot. What a blight."
(Cast-off? Darling, I'm a limited, exceedingly rare, and probably cursed edition, thank you very much,) I thought, feeling a chuckle bubble internally, which probably manifested as a tiny baby spasm.
[Your sense of humour remains… peculiar as ever. And surprisingly resilient, I must admit.]
"Came with this. The slag managed to scrawl it before she conked out for good. Must've had a moment of lucidity or remorse."
The nun – or whoever this sombre figure was – took the crumpled, soiled piece of paper the driver extended, stained with blood at the edges. Classy.
"Azra'il… odd name for an odd creature," she read aloud, her voice a drawl. "And the sex?"
The driver shrugged. "Not even the Gods know what that thing is. A monster, that's what. Half-Beastman, neither proper male nor female, something in between. I've seen a lot in my time, Sister, but this one's a new one on me."
[They have a special talent for stating the obvious with such pomp and circumstance, don't they? Almost as if they'd discovered gunpowder, only several centuries too late.]
(Eos…) my mind queried with a slight tone of suspicion. (Did you have any influence on this? With her knowing my true name, even in her deplorable state?)
[Let's just say your innate magic, even in its embryonic state in this receptacle, may have subtly influenced the host's dreams and feverish delusions over the past few weeks. Little suggestions whispered in the dead of night, recurring visions of the name floating in her mind… You know how I like to be… proactively efficient. And prescient.]
(Cunning, meddling manipulator as always, aren't you?)
[I prefer the term 'strategically prudent'. And frankly, after that time you were born and named 'Gertrude PeppernickleKlaus von HamsterDam III'… I think a little preventative intervention is justifiable.]
(Don't remind me of the HamsterDam incarnation. I still have nightmares about those lace bibs.)
[Shall we initiate the accelerated development protocol? We could have you walking and talking in a matter of days, perhaps even conjuring small fireballs to frighten the other children.]
(No, Eos. Not this time. We're going to experience natural growth, however painfully slow it may be. I want to feel this world from the beginning, in all its dysfunctional glory. And besides…)
[Yes? There's always an 'and besides' with you.]
(Something tells me the damp, fetid shadows of Raven's End have much to teach us about true, raw human bestiality. I want to appreciate the irony first-hand.)
[Your patience continues to intrigue me, even after aeons of cohabitation. Thousands of years of existence, and yet you choose to experience each new life in its painful, and frequently disgusting, entirety. Others in your position, or remotely similar, would attempt to fast-forward to the climax, or at the very least, skip the nappy part.]
(Time, my dear Eos, has taught me that every moment has its intrinsic value. Even the seemingly insignificant, dirty, and incompetence-riddled ones.)
[Ah, yes. Like when you were born in Lordran and faced the Undead Curse – your 'ambulant, grumbling bacon' phase was particularly memorable, especially the smell. Or your life as a reluctant apostle during the chaotic Age of Eclipse – I still wonder how you managed to keep your arm after that 'casual encounter' with Zodd the Immortal. Your stint as a stubborn Tarnished in the Lands Between was… interesting, especially when you decided to fight Malenia, Blade of Miquella, stark naked just to prove a point about the futility of armour against Scarlet Rot. Or perhaps it was just exhibitionism. It was never quite clear.]
(You and your impeccable memory for my less… dignified moments. You'll never let me forget, will you?)
[Continuing the list of your greatest hits… I vividly recall when you were a Stark in the frozen North of Westeros – though I still maintain that decapitating Joffrey at his own wedding with a lobster fork was a tad… excessive, even by your standards. Delightfully creative, I grant you, but excessive. That period as a somewhat delinquent sorcerer at Jujutsu High, when you decided it would be a grand idea to provoke Sukuna just to see 'what happened'… Not forgetting your interesting, albeit bloody, existence as a rogue shinobi in Konoha, the harrowing time as a hunter driven mad in the streets of Yharnam… Even your lives as a surly metahuman in Gotham and a reluctant heroine amongst the boisterous Avengers. And, of course, that peculiar and frankly bizarre existence as SCP-343, when you literally convinced an entire organisation of sceptics you were 'God'… and still managed to thoroughly annoy Dr Bright with existential pranks.]
(Every reality with its own rules, challenges, and opportunities for well-calculated chaos and, occasionally, justified sadism.)
[And each one, somehow, contributed to the complex, contradictory, and frequently dangerous entity you are today. From the Gothic gloom of Lordran to the shattered vastness of the Lands Between, from the Victorian madness of Yharnam to the cold, aseptic containment cells of the SCP Foundation. You've seen worlds born and die before your eyes, faced demons and deities, and, on more than one occasion, been considered both. Though, I must say, your inherent penchant for chaos and destruction remains… remarkably consistent.]
(And yet, Eos, every new life manages to surprise me somehow. Usually with the stupidity of others.)
[Even after having walked so many realities it would give a primordial god an existential crisis? After having been both warrior and monster, both reluctant saviour and enthusiastic destroyer? Having wielded both the mythical Dragon Blade and been contained as a Keter-class supernatural entity? Sometimes I wonder if you're not just… fundamentally addicted to trouble and collecting traumatic experiences.]
The small creature that was me, in the dirty cot of a dilapidated orphanage, watched the dancing shadows on the cracked ceiling, my blue eyes glinting with the silent knowledge of countless lives and deaths. Outside, the crescent moon bathed Raven's End in its cold, silver light, while the wind carried the harsh, dismissive whispers of the carers down the poorly lit corridors. But for someone who had been both god and demon, the petty words of these mortals were merely another insignificant echo in an eternal symphony of suffering and stupidity.
[I suppose Earth Land will be just another chapter in your vast and increasingly bewildering multiverse of experiences. Though I have already detected several energy anomalies and potentially problematic entities that suggest the universe has already prepared some… particularly interesting challenges for your entertainment.]
(No, Eos. Each reality, each life, is a unique story, waiting to be written, lived, and, preferably, mucked up. And this one…) I allowed a small, predatory smirk, almost invisible on a baby's lips, to surface. (This one is just beginning. After all, what fun would eternity be without a spot of… amusement?)
[Ah, here we go again… Prepare the containment alarms. Or perhaps the fire alarms. They usually go off first.]