Visit Your Lover, Azrael

It's like turning the page in a book, you refocus yourself in the digital realm where you live, and the world refocuses with you...

"Hello, Lady MacIntosh, come to dance away the last day before the reign of chaos with me?" Azrael asks.

He is a handsome man, his body that of a muscular human, unblemished by scar or pockmark. He is of no specific 'race' but rather much like would be achieved were every ethnic group on earth blended in equal measure: as, according to the game, they were in the first days of the world, when Eden and Nod were the only lands of humanity. His skin is a mid-range olivine-brown in color, his nose pronounced, but neither long and narrow nor flat and broad, not short and pointy, nor round and bulbous, nor beaked and hawklike, but, rather, an unobtrusive medium. His eyes are a light brown not unlike the color of the wood of the mighty Persian Oak, and you can stare into their depths for days at a time. from his back sprout three mighty pairs of wings, one coal black, another brilliant white, and between them neutral gray. His halo shines with a light so bright that it would be more obvious in the sky than the sun, while his feet are permanently whelmed in a blackness as total as that of a singularity's event horizon.

You casually flick your eyes over his sheet, and then your own...