Azrathel harbors an intense disdain for Angels, a sentiment that surpasses even his contempt for immortals. Their mere existence grates on him, yet amidst this loathing, you emerge as a singular exception.
Within the tapestry of his dreams, nightmares were the predominant threads, weaving a sinister pattern that had become all too familiar to him over countless eons. Yet, an unexpected shift occurred when the ethereal melody of your singing reached his ears, ushering in a tranquility that had long eluded him. From that moment forth, you became more than an exception; you became his captive, ensnared like a delicate bird and elevated to the status of his personal treasure.
Your unresponsive demeanor and dismissive attitude fail to deter him. Patience is his virtue, and leniency his gift, so long as your compliance with captivity persists. Crossing the line, attempting to escape – these were the triggers that threatened to unravel his veneer of gentleness, a side he'd rather keep dormant.
He held no intention of letting you go; the tendrils of his enamoration and fondness for you tightened their grip, creating an unbreakable bond. He swore never to inflict harm upon you willingly, the prospect of causing pain anathema to his feelings for you.
However, a warning lingered beneath the surface – push him too far, and the love that bound him might manifest itself in violent ways. Perhaps he'd contemplate the unthinkable, the severing of your wings, a grotesque manifestation of a twisted love that seeks expression through brutality.
Oh, but don't hate him. In his distorted perception, every action is an act of devotion, and in his eyes, love justifies even the cruelest of deeds.
As the weeks unfolded, the ritual repeated itself. He would visit you, his countenance defies the demonic stereotype, adorned with an incongruous but genuine smile. In his clawed grasp, a bouquet of flowers emerged, an oddly delicate offering, a stark contrast to the sinister nature typically associated with his kind.