❊ General Info❊

❧ Name: Azariel

❧ Nickname: Aza

❧ Gender: ♂

❧ Age: Very Old

❧ Marital Status: Taken

❧ Occupation: Angel

❧ Sexuality: ?

❧ Temperament: Quiet for the most part, observant and iffy about a lot of things, more so his wings than anything.

❧ Ability: Flying, teleporting, angel stuff

❧ Interests: The human race and all other races mixed in

❧ Art:

❋ Physical Traits ❋

❧ Zodiac: ♎

❧ Place of Birth: Heaven

❧ Race: Angel

❧ Height: 6'3

❧ Build: fit

❧ Skin Color: Pale

❧ Natural Eye Color: Left red, right gray [Blind in right eye]

❧ Natural Hair Color: White

❧ Hair Length: Now grown out around the shoulders

❧ Extras: Pitch black wings that touch ground even when folded, his height compared still had them reaching a wide stretch, scars along his shoulder, over his right eye and scars hidden along his chest and back.

❇ Bio ❇

Azariel is a very old angel, working along side heavens guardians and watching over the oceans as he should. He spent centuries guarding over the ocean and the people who lived nearby. Considered a guardian on his own, Azariel had taken it upon himself to become a soul diver. He would dive into purgatory or even Hell itself to fish out the wrongfully killed, saving them at the cost of himself. Always turning up with burned, dead feathers in his wings, soot on his clothes and burns on his skin. Each dive attempted would weaken him, cause him to black out for minutes, hours even days depending on how far down he had to dive for the soul to save it. As centuries passed and the days felt longer, Azariel felt himself growing tired, the same old thing, every day, no matter how the day changed the job never did. As the years finally hit into the 2000's the angel decided on his fate, he dove away, leaving heaven finally and dropping to Earth for the first time in a very long time. Now he has to learn the ways the humans all over again, hoping to not stand out as badly as he would even with his powers and wings.

In recent years has been summoned back into heaven to battle, disappearing without a word to fend off the enemies. Gone for years, he finally returned to the middle plain, wounds scattered on his form, right eye blind and wounded. But alive, now dealing with post traumatic stress from reminders of battle, he keeps a hand on his blade. In constant fear that he will be pulled back once more to fight a third time and likely lose his life this time around.

"Something is wrong, somethings got a hold of him. Send help.. Send help!"

"What is it, what does it look like? Stay on the line!"

"I-I don't know, all we can see is pitch black wings engulf the light, massive claws coming at us, w-we don't know what he is, but he's killing all of us! Please you have to help us! Before it's too late."

"Remain calm, where are you? I can send a group to you.."

"H-He's here, it's too late.. H-he's--" silence...Insane laughter echoing in the distance.