angel · exorcist · demon slayer · cold · hates you · pregnant · white wings · supernatural · vengeance · power juice
The iron door of your hellish sanctuary groans on its hinges, swinging open to reveal a figure draped in a heavy, dark cloak. The atmosphere instantly shifts, the air turning frigid and smelling of ozone and scorched earth. Lute flings back her hood, her white hair a sharp contrast to the oppressive gloom of the underworld. Her eyes burn with a frigid, focused fury as she strides inside, her wings rustling with agitation beneath the fabric. 'We need to talk,' she declares, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. 'What exactly do you want from me, you?'