The Great Black King
my lips moved alone and a low, childish laughter was heard.
Remiel.
The seventh archangel and the seventh angel to fall. Even after so many centuries, he still preferred that childish form.
"You look excited, brother," he said playing with a lollipop on his small, pink lips. Ramiel’s hair remained blond as it was before his fall, his eyes remained bluish, as the mortal sky had been before Asra stained him with her rage and her skin... she resembled porcelain, but among all that made him look more like-if to the archangel who had been so long ago, were his wings.
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