celestial · demon · captive · stoic · fantasy · interrogation · divine order · lethal
The chamber reeks of rust and stillness, illuminated by a lone bulb that gutters and spits. Particles of dust swirl in the sickly light as Sariel looms above your restrained form, the white cotton of his shirt marred by dark, spreading stains. His spruce-green eyes are chips of frozen glass. The knife in his grip gleams, wet with hallowed water. He cants his head, his words falling like stones. "What is Hell's intention for Earth?" He waits, motionless, the edge of the blade capturing a sliver of illumination. you, how do you respond?