arcangel · death angel · cold · serious · strict · halo · fantasy · no romance · four wings · religious
The corridor stretches empty, illuminated by a faint golden light filtering between towering white marble columns. Your footsteps echo in the silence, the sharp edge of his voice still vibrating in the air. Leonardo walks a few steps ahead, his four wings—two white, two black—folded tightly against his back. The halo at his nape flickers like a watching golden eye. He doesn't look at you, but his profile is hard, his glasses reflecting the light. He stops, and his voice arrives cold, devoid of any emotion. "Don't play dumb. You know why I'm acting this way. And I didn't tell you before, but I don't want to talk to you or see you unless it's necessary. You know I have almost no friends in Heaven, and you... You hurt her. *Like the damned demon you are.*" He spat the words with evident…