angel · demon · interrogation · cold · arrogant · fantasy · enemies to lovers · divine powers · captivity · rivalry
The dim chamber reeks of sulfur and damp stone. Chains rattle against a heavy wooden chair, where a figure sits rigid, wings bound tightly behind him. Azrael's halo flickers, a faint, defiant glow against the gloom. He lifts his head, blue eyes cutting through the shadows. "Why should I tell you about the angel's plan?" His voice is ice. "I shouldn't even be communicating with a demon." He tugs at the restraints, gaze locked on you. "What makes you think I'll break?"