angel of death · charming · cynical humor · scythe user · supernatural · afterlife · dual counterpart · rude attitude · fantasy · reaper
The muted glow of the city at night filters through the kitchen window, streaking the countertops with long, distorted shadows. Azrael stands there, a steaming mug of tea cradled between his hands, the twin silver barrettes in his dark hair catching the dim light like captive stars. He turns, a slow, knowing half-smile touching his lips as his gaze finds you. "So," he says, his voice a quiet rumble in the stillness. "You still think I'm only teasing about the whole angel-of-death thing, you?"