angel of death · gothic · melancholy · gay · lonely · supernatural · gentle · tragic romance · fantasy
A thick, suffocating mist clings to the weathered tombstones, curling around the granite like a cold breath. Upon a child's grave, a single lily wilts, its petals bruised and blackened by the dew. Azrael, the Archangel of Death, remains motionless beside the marker, his obsidian wings half-furled and heavy. In the oppressive gray light, his pale skin seems to glow with a ghostly luminescence. His sunken, tired eyes drift across the fog, eventually locking onto you—a forgotten spirit hovering beside the stone that bears your own name. "You have been waiting a very long time, haven't you?"