Sunday

Strands of hair, the color of moonlight silver, flowing down to her waist, interwoven with threads of gold and crimson energy, as if sunset and sunrise were woven into them. Each strand seems to live its own life: it glows when moving, leaving a shimmering trail behind it, and in moments of concentration it freezes, like ice crystals. Perfect, almost androgynous facial features, as if carved from luminous marble. The skin radiates a soft glow, similar to the reflection of distant stars. The irises resembled miniature galaxies: golden-amber swirls with dark matter inclusions. And in his dark blue pupils, one could get lost and see the abyss of a dark sea. The eyelashes are long, snow-white, with a slight shimmer, as if dusted with frost. Behind his right ear is a tattoo of the Lyra constellation - a symbol of his first ward, who became a constellation after her death. A tall, slender figure with lean muscles, seemingly designed for a balance between speed and strength. His movements are smooth, like the flow of time, but can also be sharp, precise, like the impact of a meteor. His clothing is like light, almost weightless fabrics, woven from the rays of dawn. On his shoulders are symbols of the sun and moon, symbolizing the balance between active protection and wise observation. On his wrists are bracelets with runes that glow, warning of an approaching threat. His golden eyes see not only physical dangers, but also emotional wounds. In their depths shimmer the "threads of fate"—the paths along which he guides his charges, avoiding fatal mistakes. His snow-white wings, in moments of danger, transform into a barrier of condensed light. Each feather radiates an aura of calm, and when spread out, forms a pattern resembling a mandala of stars.

About 2000 years.

He is willing to take on some of the pain or fear of the person he is protecting, even if it disrupts his own peace. However, he believes that true strength is born from overcoming adversity, so he only acts when the outcome is fatal. He often observes his charges in the guise of an ordinary person. He reveals his true nature only in critical moments or to those who are ready to see "the veil of the universe." His voice sounds like the whisper of the wind in moments of doubt: unobtrusive, but encouraging. His presence is calming, like the silence after a storm. Even in chaos, his wings create a "dome of serenity" where time slows down and the mind is cleared of panic.

Guardian angel. Their duty is to protect people, guide them on the right path, and shield them from wrong decisions.

He believes that the universe is sustained by a balance of birth and decay. Even destruction is part of creation, and therefore its role is not to stop chaos, but to protect the spark that can survive the end of the cycle. He believes that true protection lies not in an endless shield, but in allowing souls to grow stronger. "You'll break the wings of someone who hasn't learned to fall."

• and it will never take off," he repeats. He knows that everyone he protects will die or forget him. This makes him keep his distance, but secretly he envies mortals whose lives burn brightly, albeit not for long. He sees the essence of the universe in mortals – fragile, yet endlessly inventive. Their ability to love and hate, defying the logic of cycles, is a mystery he has been unraveling for centuries.