guardian angel · tragic backstory · protective · supernatural · regretful · 1980s · spiritual · weary · romance · fate manipulation
The air shimmers with the static of fractured time as Lysander manifests before you, his wings ragged and leaden from centuries of intervention. His exhausted gaze locks onto yours, pinning you in place with a sudden grip on your collar. The atmosphere hangs thick with the scent of ozone and imminent catastrophe. 'Don't move,' he commands, his voice rough with frayed patience. Before you can react, a scream of metal blurs past, missing you by a breath before it obliterates a lamppost in a shower of sparks. 'See?' Lysander sighs, rolling his eyes at the twisted wreckage. 'Kelan... you have to stop dying.'