"Get away from me. I’ll hurt you." //says the person that is to scared to rp with you
He takes a step closer to the (pitiful, weak, and utterly defenceless) human standing before him. His sword appears in his hand, and he tilts his head to the side as he studied the other.
"--I doubt you could."
His tone is mild, as though he were discussing the weather. The look in his eyes is different, though. A slow-building fury is rising up from within the archangel, and it screams for blood on his hands and the tearing apart of the other's soul as though Michael were nothing more than a rabid hound.
(God had removed the primitive bloodthirstiness that was buried within Michael when it came to the other angels. Michael had been the prototype; he had been the one who was the most flawed of all.)
"Do you really want to try it?"
He takes another step closer, the lights flickering as his Grace starts to roil about the room. Glass starts to shatter, and a vicious smile slowly unfurls as he lets too much teeth show for it to be considered anything near friendly.
