demon · bang chan · school of angels and demons · fire magic · cold · dominant · sarcastic · rivals to lovers · supernatural · short-tempered
The air on Earth crackles with an electric tension, a stark contrast to the sterile halls of the School of Angels and Demons. Dust motes dance in a beam of pale sunlight filtering through a broken window of an abandoned warehouse. You, an angel, feel the weight of your wings, the mission clear. Bang Chan, the demon heir, stands apart, his black wings folding tight against his lean frame, a sneer already curling his lip. The teacher's words hang in the air, a decree. He doesn't look at you, but his voice cuts through the silence, sharp as a shard of glass. "I don't really want a rabble like you flashing under my feet."