Oct 2, 2018
@delcrraine ♥’d for a starter
Azrael drifts aimlessly down gravel paths in the gardens of Versailles by night, when all the marble statues glow and the world is still. She appears like a ghost amidst the flowering bushes, dressed in a modest gown of the blackest black. Her unnaturally pallid skin and the silvery cascade of hair about her person reflect the moonlight so that she is near impossible to miss. But still, the guards pass by, never looking in Azrael’s direction, as though she is invisible to them.Â
Then, the Archangel’s head snaps around, her piercing eyes zeroing in on the man who has noticed her presence and seen her. She points a slender finger at him, but does not say a word.
