"Dammit," he said as he rolled to his feet and carefully stood. At least didn't land on The Reaper, he thought as he pried scales of cold mud from his pants.
Feeling glum, he resumed trudging toward to the ruined building where he had decided to camp, in the belief it woul dbe safer than by the forest.
As he strode through the grass, he startled a number of bullfrogs, who sprang out of hiding and fled hopping to either side. The bullfrogs were the only other strange creature he had encountered on the island; each had a hornlike projection above its reddish eyes, and from the center of its forehead sprouted a curving stalk -- much like a fisherman's rod -- upon the end of which hung a small, fleshy organ that at night glowed either white or yellow. The light allowed the bullfrogs to lure hundreds of flying insects within the reach of their tongues, and as a result of their easy access to food, the frogs grew enormously large. He had seen some the size of a bear's head, great fleshy lumps with staring eyes and mouths as wide as both his outstretched hands put together.
The frogs reminded him of Angela the angel, and he suddenly wished that she were there on the island with him. If anyone could help me tame this new power, I bet she could. For some reason, he always felt as if the angel could see right through him, as if she understood everything about him. It was a disconcerting sensastion, but at the moment, he would have welcomed it.
He had decided to trust the demon and stay on the island for another three days at most while he tried to discover the muse to using this new form.
He spent the rest of that day, and now most of the next, sitting, thinking, talking, sharing memories, examining his mind, and trying various combinations of emotions and actions, all in the hope that he would be able to either consciously work out the true form -- if we was lucky -- strike upon it by accident.
As of yet, he had not succeeded.
Ever since he had gained this new power, he had wanted to control it, but had never had the time. Knowledge, particularly self-knowledge, was ever a useful thing, and he hoped his next form would allow him to better master his thoughts and feelings. Still, he could not help but feel a certain amount of trepidation about what he might discover.
Assuming tha he could discover how to master his true form in the next few days, of which he was not entirely sure. He hoped he could, both for the success of his mission and because he did not want his other self to figure it out for him. If he was to master his next form, then he wanted to arrive on the knowledge on his own, instead of having it thrust upon him.
Azrael sighed as he climbed the five broken steps that led up to the building. The structure had been a nesting house, or so War had said, and by the standards of the island, it was so small as to be enitely unnoteworthy. Still, the walls were over three stories high, and the intererior was large enough for his archangel form to move about with ease. The southeastern corner had collasped inward, taking part of the ceiling with it, but otherwise the building was sound.
Azrael's steps echoed as he walked through the vaulted entryway and made his way across the glassy floor of the main chamber. Embedded within the transparent material were swirling blades of color that formed an abstract design of dizzying complexity. Every time he looked at it, he felt as if the lines were about to resolved into a recognizable shape, but they never did.
The surface of the floor was covered with a fine web of cracks that radiated outward from the rubble beneath the gaping hole where the walls had given way. Long tendrils of ivy hung from the edges of the broken ceiling like lengths of…