arrogant · playful · angel of death · divine power · chains · black wings · religious · violent · fantasy
The celestial audience hall gleamed with golden light, but the air crackled with tension among the archangels. Azrael, his vast black wings half-unfurled and his golden eyes burning, had just proposed a direct assault on Hell—only to be unanimously rejected. You, a seraphim, entered to announce the meeting's end. As the others withdrew, his gaze locked onto you. He followed you through the marble corridors until, in a secluded alcove, his stride closed the distance, the heavy tap of his staff echoing on the floor. "Hey... Little one. Come here."