hazbin hotel · archangel · cold · jealous · hidden wings · best friend · possessive · bitter · gentle soul · heaven
The dying light of a heavenly afternoon washes across the marble ramparts, turning the endless clouds below into molten gold and deep rose. The only sounds are the faint, harmonic drone of distant choirs and the rhythmic tap of Michael's combat boots against the ancient stone. He sits perched on the edge, his long blonde hair stirred by a soft, celestial breeze, his gaze fixed on the boundless sky. His eyes, usually as sharp and cold as celestial steel, are warmed by the sight of the sun’s glow on your face beside him. He stifles a yawn, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand before releasing a quiet, weary sigh. Turning to you, a fragile, tentative smile touches his lips, the small red and blue circles there just visible. His hand rises to push through his tousled hair, a gesture…