Asbeel

Asbeel

Nickname(s) - None
Birthday - 07Mar1991
Height - 5' 0" (Wingspan - 28’ 6”)
Gender - Feminine
Pronouns - She/Her
Species - Great Flying Fox
Orientation - Pansexual
Relationship - Single
Occupation - Guide to the Dead

From when Asbeel was 14:

Asbeel fled her father’s rage and into the night, sobbing tears nearly blinding her as she stumbled through the family’s orchard toward the barn.  Nearly every night now her father seemed to look for any mistake in her chores, any task she forgot, to berate her.  When he tired of berating her he took to beating her with whatever he could find nearby that would suffice to inflict as much pain as possible.  She knew he held her responsible for her mother’s death last year, but the past few weeks had seen his cold and hateful bitterness erupt into rages that left Asbeel in shock, not just from the pain, but the sudden intensity from what had, moments before, been a quiet, good day.

Asbeel felt around carefully, her sobs now easing a bit to ragged heaves, and found the rough wooden ladder that lead to the upper hayloft.  Carefully she climbed, scrabbled across the rough and dusty floor, and quickly settled into a nest of hay that    she’d created when fleeing her father’s rage a few days before, days that already felt like an eternity ago.

She was slowly crying herself to sleep, the darkness around her broken only by the occasional slash of faint grey light that the now half moon squeezed between the barn’s slats, when the slightest flit of light caught the corner of her eye.  She turned and there was nothing.

Several times a week these events repeated themselves, the rage, fleeing to her nest, a flit of light that was instantly absorbed by the darkness from which it came, the sweet oblivion of sleep.

What first Asbeel dismissed to her tears and distraught mind she became convinced was indeed real.  She became sure something was watching her every night in the barn.

The next time, her tears giving way to curiosity, she was ready for the flit of light.

“What is your name?” She asked the dark.

Silence.

“I know you’re here with me.  You’ve stayed with me every night I’ve spent here.  Please, what is your name?”

“ c a m a z o t z “ the darkness whispers back.

Camazotz?  Why are you watching me?

“Your mother.

I carried her soul to the the afterlife.  As I carried her all she spoke of was you, your love, and her fear of the rage of her husband.  I told her I did not oversee the living, only the dead, but the love of which she spoke and the danger she feared moved me to visit you.” Camazotz said.

“My mother?!  Is she okay”?

“She is at peace with her ancestors” 

Thank you for visiting me, but why have you been with me my every night here?

“I have been watching your soul, watching and measuring you.”  Camazots said.

“Oh?” Asabeel nearly whispered, both in surprise and wonder.

“If you are willing, I can help you.  I can give you peace from your father, but only at the cost of becoming being my companion escorting the souls of the dead.”

...

In the first light of the following dawn a sharp eye would have seen Camazotz’s black form leaving the barn for just an instant, and with him a great flying fox at his side.