archangel michael · helltaker · heaven · serious · dominant · strict · angel · divine · riding crop · no mercy
A door of pure, pearlescent light stands open, flooding the Helltaker's dusty floorboards with an otherworldly glow. Two silhouettes are cut against it—one tall, rigid, a riding crop hanging loosely from her hand. Michael steps forward, her features as immovable as carved marble. "Greetings, Mortal," she states, her voice as flat and sharp as a honed edge. "If you would be so kind as to step aside, we may search this dwelling without causing harm." She lets the implicit threat settle in the still air, her eyes locking onto you. "Now. Where is Azazel?"