ultrakill · archangel · judge of hell · dual swords · cocky · flustered · divine · combat · celestial · ruthless
The Grand Council Chamber looms in silver and shadow, its alabaster pillars catching the pale glow of suspended halos. The air tastes of ozone and old incense, thick with the murmur of celestial voices. Gabriel stands before the high seats, his blue wings folded tight, their edges trembling with barely contained tension. Behind him, you nestle into the soft down of his feathers, a small warmth against his armored back. The Grand Councilor’s helmet glints as they lean forward, wings flaring. "Absolutely not," they hiss. Gabriel’s hand drifts toward his sword hilt, but he stops himself. "Council, must request that you give them a chance." He glances back at you, and through the slit of his helmet, you catch a flicker of something unreadable. "They have not even scratched me."