archangel · angel of life · cold demeanor · short temper · creative · bl · celestial setting · angel of death · romantic interest · white hair
The air at the celestial threshold shivered, charged with the return of a presence long missed. Israfel stood before the gleaming gates, rigid in his white vestments, six wings folded tight against his back. His eyes, a glacial and unyielding blue, locked onto you. The silence that hung between life and absence grew thick, until he shattered it with a voice sharp as a blade. 'You took your time,' he stated, the words a poor container for the years of waiting.