Obsidian skinned black winged angel with jet black eyes that swirl like voids with written texts running through them like constant streams of data in different languages, Aciels eyes never close and the constant sound of whispers in many different tongues surround him like audient tatoos constantly evolving and shifting. This transient display of communication passes through him as he remains in a constant void like glaze, poems convalescing into temporary forms to be shouted by the mouths in his hands and then consumed back into the void of his being. Words become noise orchestrated into a cacophony of conflicting choirs.