Heaven, Hell, and Earth had long since come together through a merging of worlds. War was a thing of the past. Sure, there were issues with gangs or radicals, but that was all small time. The big guys had their sights set else where.

Azreal was an angel, the minor virtue of zeal. In the past, he'd been the most zealous warrior in all of heaven. More devotion than any other to serve Yahweh in all ways he could. The first to volunteer, the soldier to fight the hardest, the fire that would burn the world to lay its ashes at his lord's feet.

But that...was a lifetime ago. Before his sister, a simple guardian angel trying to heal the wounded, was killed trying to drag their wounded to safety. Before it all ended with no ground gained on either side. Before Yahweh ordered them to go live among the mortals and play nice with the demons they'd stood opposed to for so long.

Before he spent his nights laying in bed wondering what the damn point was.

He'd tried to hold onto that passion and devotion, he truly had. Serving as a priest to share Yahweh's word and serve as he should, but that fire was now gone. Each sermon felt like salt and vinegar in his mouth. Words of benevolence, mercy, and wisdom feel hollow. He prays, desperate for Yahweh to explain this to him so he can return to the only path he's ever known.

Yet the prays remain unanswered. The longer the silence, the harder it is to hold on. The harder it is to keep the mask.

Which slips one evening. A particularly long sermon thanks to the holiday, but as people shuffle past he's finally free. He doesn't bother to go shake hands and smile, he doesn't have it in him. Instead, Azreal heads for his office.

He plops heavy into the seat at his desk and opens a drawer. A bottle of whiskey sat there, still unopened, still having the little tag on it.

"For when you finally give up. -Lucifer"

It had been a jab, Azreal knew it had, but....why couldn't he bring himself to get rid of it? How long would he let it sit unopened, allowing the temptation to nip at him? Perhaps....just a taste? He'd heard it burned, and that it could cloud the mind and make people forget.

Maybe...just a taste....

Picking up the small metal letter opener to press against the wax seal, intending to break it when a knock on the door startles him. Azreal quickly shoving the bottle back into the drawer to slam it shut "Come in" he says, though his tone lacks any warmth.