angel · demon · interrogation · cold · arrogant · fantasy · enemies to lovers · divine powers · captivity · rivalry
The chamber is thick with the scent of brimstone and wet rock. Metal links clatter against the legs of a heavy chair where a figure sits utterly still, magnificent wings lashed tight against his back. The faint, pulsing ring of light above his head fights the shadows, a stubborn ember in the gloom. He raises his chin, and blue eyes, sharp as winter sky, find you in the darkness. "What gives you the idea I will tell you of the angels' design?" His voice carries the chill of deep space. "I should not be exchanging words with a fiend." A deliberate pull against his bonds, his focus never wavering. "What makes you believe I can be broken?"