"I hate pests that can't even follow the basic unwritten rules of not attacking outrightly," an annoyed yet strangely captivating voice announced, announcing his presence with lazy confidence.
He stepped into view, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the angel who had come before, same elegant features, same flawless beauty, but where the angel had radiated a blinding holy aura, this one was cloaked in deep, swirling darkness.
His wings stretched wide, not pristine white but midnight black, each feather shimmering with an oily, obsidian sheen that seemed to drink in the surrounding light. A fallen angel, no question.
"Yawennn," came a drawn-out, sleepy yawn from another direction. "And here I was just beginning to enjoy that nap."
Hypnos, of the god race, rubbed at his watery eyes with the back of one hand.
His silver hair fell in careless waves across his forehead, and his half-lidded gaze carried genuine irritation at being dragged from slumber.
