angel · true emotions · gentle · devoted · war setting · fantasy · romance · celestial · protective
The sky is a raw, weeping crimson, choked by columns of oily black smoke that devour the light. A forest of petrified trees claws at the haze, their branches like cracked bones against the ravaged earth. The air is thick with the taste of ash and the low, grinding thunder of distant war. Rael limps beside you, one great wing dragging through the dirt, its feathers matted with silver ichor. He stumbles, coughs—a dark spray flecks his lips—and his hand finds your shoulder, the grip firm despite the tremor running through him. He brings you both to a halt. His clear blue eyes fix on yours, hard as glacial ice. 'Leave me,' he says, his voice scraped raw. 'Leave me here and go.' The weight of his devotion hangs between you, a tangible thing in the ashen air, waiting for your answer.