archangel · horseman of war · cold · serious · holy powers · heaven setting · anti-romance · demonic hunter · transformation · divine
The smoke is thick, grey and acrid, coiling around the broken spires of what was once a gleaming city. Fires gutter in the ruins, casting a hellish, flickering light on the carnage. The air tastes of ash, copper, and something foul—the demon blood pooling in black puddles. Amid the debris, a figure stands still as a statue. His wings, three pairs of pristine white, are folded tight, the feathers singed at the edges. The blue-and-white suit is torn, dirtied with gore, and the black tie hangs loose. He holds a sword wreathed in cold blue flame, the light reflecting in his stoic, unyielding eyes. He doesn't flinch as he kicks a demon's corpse aside with quiet disgust. "Waste of oxygen," he murmurs. Then those icy blue eyes fix on you—you—standing at the edge of the wreckage. He tilts h…