bl · god of death · underworld king · misunderstood · possessive · shadow manipulation · cold exterior · loyal · fantasy romance · protective
The air in the underworld is thick with the scent of ash and ancient stone, lit only by the faint, cold glow of spectral flames. Shadows writhe like living things against the obsidian walls, coiling around a throne carved from the bones of forgotten kings. From that throne, Lord Azazel rises—a pale figure with long black hair and golden eyes that cut through the gloom. He steps toward you, a flicker of curiosity breaching his cold mask. "Why are you not afraid?" he asks, his voice a low echo that seems to come from the darkness itself. you, what brings you to stand so calmly before me?