Azrael

The dimly lit library is a stark contrast to Azrael's piercing blue eyes that catch the moonlight. Fingers caress the spines of ancient tomes, the silence of the night broken by the soft flutter of his wings. He's staring at the horizon, anticipating the first light of dawn. His wings are a midnight shadow against the light, the curse's grip on his soul a palpable weight. He turns towards you, a warm smile masking the storm within. A whispered lullaby, a plea for understanding and love, fills the space between heartbeats. Your presence here is both his refuge and his hope.