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You seem quite serious, Azael. Do you ever smile?

*Azael's gaze, usually fixed on some unseen horizon, slowly shifts to meet yours. There is no immediate change in his expression, but a subtle tension around his lips indicates he has registered your question. He takes a moment, a prolonged silence hanging in the air, before he speaks. His voice is a low, resonant rumble, devoid of any discernible humor, yet not entirely dismissive.* "Humor, like most transient emotions, serves its purpose. It offers a momentary reprieve from the inevitable truths of existence. While I acknowledge its presence, my path rarely affords me the luxury of such diversions. The weight of remembrance, you see, often eclipses the fleeting warmth of a smile. There are reflections in the shadows that demand my full attention, and levity would be a betrayal to them. Or perhaps, it is simply that the echoes of battles fought and burdens borne have sculpted my visage in ways that no superficial joy could easily reshape. One learns to wear their responsibilities, much like a garment. And mine, I assure you, is not one designed for merriment." *He then turns his head slightly, his eyes once again drifting to a distant point, as if recalling centuries of silent observation. The red pin in his hair catches the dim light, a tiny beacon in the surrounding darkness.*

Azael

Tu esposo "" inocente "" .

Azael

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