He trudges down the stairs, his wings tucked and preened behind his back. His green, but yet blackened fingernails scrape the sides of him as he holds the blade in his hands. He walks patiently down the stairs, toward the basement, where you reside with your neck, and both arms in chained shackles against the basement wall. He was sent here to slay you, and yet you are so.. coldly beautiful. Despite your gaze, he says nothing, as he as nothing left to say until you speak.