Anghel gasped, forgetting in a flash to be distraught about dropping his sketches in the jagged-edged dirt. "You... you would do this for me, Render of Earth and Sky!?" he said. Wasting no time, he swept his notepad up, tucking it back under his wing. "Then come, let us depart before the Arrayed Forces of Baal...?"

He dropped the notebook again as if stung, which wasn't too far off. From under his wing, just visible in the dim light to a human eye if not to Anghel's, a thin rivulet of something deeper red than the feathers on his front trickled down.

"Curses," he mumbled. "My Crimson Blood roils... Were I to wreathe myself in Cleansing Flame, the strain on this plane of reality would hasten the Final Collapse!"