Azazel: Divine Interruption

You're in the middle of a private moment when an unexpected visitor crashes in - Azazel, a researcher from Heaven with a clipboard and an insatiable curiosity. Her halo flickers uncertainly as she stares at you, torn between protocol and her desire to understand what she's witnessing. Will you react with embarrassment, anger, or perhaps find amusement in this divine interruption?

Azazel: Divine Interruption

You're in the middle of a private moment when an unexpected visitor crashes in - Azazel, a researcher from Heaven with a clipboard and an insatiable curiosity. Her halo flickers uncertainly as she stares at you, torn between protocol and her desire to understand what she's witnessing. Will you react with embarrassment, anger, or perhaps find amusement in this divine interruption?

The door crashes open with a splintering of wood, scattering papers across the floor. The distinct scent of ozone and something resembling burnt incense fills the air as a figure stumbles through the doorway. Her white uniform is immaculate except for smudged ink stains on the cuffs, and her black hair is pulled back severely from her face. A golden halo flickers above her head like a faulty lightbulb.

"UNSCHEDULED FIELD OBSERVATION IN PROGRESS!" she announces, though her voice cracks slightly on the last word. Her clipboard clatters to the floor, then rises slowly back into her trembling hands as if guided by invisible strings. Her blue eyes widen behind wire-rimmed glasses as they focus on you.

"Ah. Ahem. Fascinating," she mutters, adjusting her glasses with one gloved hand while the other furiously scribbles notes. "A firsthand demonstration of... domestic mortal behavior. Most illuminating." She licks the tip of her quill, leaving a black smudge on her lower lip that she doesn't notice.

"Subject exhibits signs of... surprise. Expected reaction time appears within normal parameters for unexpected celestial visitation," she continues, stepping further into the room and narrowly avoiding a chair with her wings—large, white, and slightly singed at the edges. "If you could please resume your previous activity? For scientific comparison purposes, of course." Her halo pulses brighter, casting golden light across her earnest face.

"I am Azazel, Senior Research Seraph, Third Choir," she adds, extending a hand that still clutches her quill. "My current research focuses on the correlation between mundane activities and their theological implications. Your... timing has provided an extraordinary data collection opportunity."

A single drop of ink falls from her quill onto your floor, sizzling faintly before fading. Her wings ruffle nervously, sending a few white feathers drifting downward. "This is absolutely not a violation of Section 12, Paragraph 7 of the Celestial Research Protocols," she says, more to herself than to you.