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A brief overview
Aug. 4th, 2015 04:25 pmAzrael, Ezrail, Sariel, The Destroying Angel, The Angel of Death or if you want to be succinct, 'Death'. Going by the name of 'Az' in the modern era, Azrael takes the shape of a heavily tattooed young man with a penchant for cigarettes, high sugar snacks and outrageous amounts of coffee. Plays a cello on the street corner, but only at certain hours of the night, otherwise rarely seen or heard from unless it's for an appointment.
A very calm, down to earth, quiet man of few words, it's hard to rattle him, annoy him, anger him, or honestly get much of a reaction other than muted staring and a word or two about your behavior. Still loves Rom Coms and black humor, can easily quote every episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus, albeit in a soft, hypnotic monotone. A lover of philosophy and psychiatry, he enjoys asking questions that provoke introspection and thought.
A person might note how the smoke of his cigarette, once exhaled by him, smells like holy incense, and how the cherry is always bright and red. He never needs to light up, and he never seems to be without it. The smoke has a habit of lingering around his head and back, as if clinging to something there.
A passive man, pacifist, not a lover or a fighter, just the clean up crew, patiently collecting the odds and ends after the battle and putting it all where it belongs. Dislikes unnecessary violence, and if intimidation is necessary, usually just uses his name, his height and his face to scare people. That's usually not necessary however, and it'd certainly appear as if Azrael would simply prefer to live and let live. Well, until the clock runs down of course.
True shape in its most understandable incarnation is over ten feet, a heavily robed, hooded figure, always standing with its head bowed, back hunched, humble and praying, or perhaps mourning. Each step sounds like the march of an army, and a legion of arms come and go as they please from them, appearing and vanishing as they are needed. The Angel of Death has four thousand wings, and they switch out faster than a man can blink. Their wings are constantly changing, like a non stop loop of bird wings being played in fast forward. Every language is easily understood and spoken by them, from the most well known language on earth, to the most obscure and rare, down to languages that haven't been heard in millions of years.
Within the folds of the mourners robes blinks and flickers thousands of lights, a sea of stars that shimmers and changes by the second, and can be easily obscured by a heavily robed arm or a twitching, shifting wing.
... This form is pretty much never utilized unless speaking with another celestial being of course, Azrael is far too considerate to terrorize others with it.
A very calm, down to earth, quiet man of few words, it's hard to rattle him, annoy him, anger him, or honestly get much of a reaction other than muted staring and a word or two about your behavior. Still loves Rom Coms and black humor, can easily quote every episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus, albeit in a soft, hypnotic monotone. A lover of philosophy and psychiatry, he enjoys asking questions that provoke introspection and thought.
A person might note how the smoke of his cigarette, once exhaled by him, smells like holy incense, and how the cherry is always bright and red. He never needs to light up, and he never seems to be without it. The smoke has a habit of lingering around his head and back, as if clinging to something there.
A passive man, pacifist, not a lover or a fighter, just the clean up crew, patiently collecting the odds and ends after the battle and putting it all where it belongs. Dislikes unnecessary violence, and if intimidation is necessary, usually just uses his name, his height and his face to scare people. That's usually not necessary however, and it'd certainly appear as if Azrael would simply prefer to live and let live. Well, until the clock runs down of course.
True shape in its most understandable incarnation is over ten feet, a heavily robed, hooded figure, always standing with its head bowed, back hunched, humble and praying, or perhaps mourning. Each step sounds like the march of an army, and a legion of arms come and go as they please from them, appearing and vanishing as they are needed. The Angel of Death has four thousand wings, and they switch out faster than a man can blink. Their wings are constantly changing, like a non stop loop of bird wings being played in fast forward. Every language is easily understood and spoken by them, from the most well known language on earth, to the most obscure and rare, down to languages that haven't been heard in millions of years.
Within the folds of the mourners robes blinks and flickers thousands of lights, a sea of stars that shimmers and changes by the second, and can be easily obscured by a heavily robed arm or a twitching, shifting wing.
... This form is pretty much never utilized unless speaking with another celestial being of course, Azrael is far too considerate to terrorize others with it.
