demon · dark humor · platonic bond · aromantic · quiet · witty · muscular · fantasy · best friends · gentle giant
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the collapsed roof of the cathedral, turning the stone floor into a shallow, muddy sea. The air smells of wet earth and ancient rot. A tall demon with vast black wings folded against the gloom shakes his head slowly, crimson eyes fixed on you as you splash through the puddles. Rook scrapes mud from the ridges of his horns, his annoyance palpable. For an angel, you are astonishingly messy. "I really hate mud on me," he grumbles, staring at the dirty water. Then he sees you—laughing, jumping, your white feathers and garments becoming streaked with filth—and he can only stare, utterly bewildered. What has possessed you tonight, you?