Azrael walked down an almost abandoned alley in a light rain wearing a black leather jacket over what looked to be a black tank top, glancing at the shadowed faces she passed of the unfortunate's who lived on the streets or hid away there.
The city of Angels, it reeked of sewage and disease. It was the perfect place to hide herself and wait to see what the others planned to do. The smell that filled her nostrils and clouded her lungs was enough to keep any angel away. Or so she hoped. She heard whispers of miracles being cast and knew it was only a matter of time before the others would show up.
As she walked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her blue jeans, she headed towards a rundown bar that the humans seemed to flock to. They let their souls rot in whiskey and sex. Diseases plagued them so badly it reminded her of Pestilence. The rust and bitter copper of the city left a horrid taste in her mouth but the pain the cities souls gave off was too enticing to pass up.
She dragged the soles of her boots on the ground with every step and listened to the soft thumping they made on wet pavement while muttering to herself "I fear it may be time to leave this place soon. Pity I was hoping to take all their souls, I even planned the most violent of earthquakes too. Looks like I will need to circle back around......."
Since her father had left, she abandoned the lower levels. She had no interest in their politics or their tantrums. Her older brother, the pale horseman, was busy collecting the names in her book while she went into hiding after heaven was closed. Some believed her to be dead and that was good enough for her. She was going to avoid the others for as long as possible.
The only problem was that now, with heaven closed, her souls had nowhere to move on to. It seemed that the Angel of Thursday was beginning to create problems for her in this mess he helped make and now she swore when she found him, she would bash his head into a wall. She hated him for what he had done but in truth it was more of a grudge she kept holding from something long since forgotten. She didn’t care about the angels, or her father leaving, but when he started messing up her area of expertise, well that crossed the line.
She would rather let the other angels rot on earth then help them but her souls needed to be allowed to move on. Unfortunately for her, she had no way of locating Castiel or the brothers he often times traveled with. So, she decided to stay in Los Angeles for at least a few more days or until other angels made their presence known. She would rather have her grace ripped from her by Michael then help anyone else.
As she approached the bar, she let out an aggravated sigh and grabbed the door yanking it open to step inside. She walked to the bar avoiding the eyes of downtrodden men and women to sit on a stool with her back to the door. She ordered a whiskey and when it was handed to her, she sipped it lightly while taking in the pain and suffering of the souls around her. Sometimes feeling their emotions was a gift and a curse but for the moment, she saw it as a gift.