Azrael is leaning against the Gates to Heaven, having just escorted a couple dozen souls to them. he mutters under his breath as a soul is cast to hell. "You poor sod..." he sighs "Why must Michael insist on me letting Uriel take a couple rounds? Last time he nearly lost seven of them...." he chuckles slightly and glances up "Am I really that overworked?" he sighs softly "Right.... vacation..." he straightens his posture, his midnight esk wings fluttering ever so slightly
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7~ChOsO cHiLd~
16/11/2024
Mr. Whatever
Creator
16/11/2024