At first glance, Hekhazuniel is a ball of fire: pure fire, white-hot, luminous as a small sun. Hints of flame-color, blues and golds and reds, ripple across *r incandescent surface. And yet, though * is fully two meters across and seems to burn with a vigorous stellar energy, * seems to generate no heat.
A closer look reveals that * is not, indeed, fire at all, but a sphere of great swanlike wings, opening and closing with languid grace. *r pure, steady white light ripples with hints of color along rachis and barbules: cerulean, sunfire-yellow, rose-gold. From between *r now-revealing, now-concealing wings glow eyes: long, sensually tilted human eyes, but inhuman in color – fire-colored, burning brightly as *r wings.
Hekhazuniel drifts or floats, unburdened by even consentual notions of gravity. *r voice comes from no discernable mouth, but wraps around her; it is a low, wild alto, reminiscent of the soughing of great winds of the thrum of a well-tended fire. The constant opening and closing of *r wings appears to have nothing to do with *r movements. If there is a body of any kind at the heart of *r wings and eyes, it is never visible.
Hekhazuniel is an immortal and a worshipper of decay. * appears to follow the Gridshaman path of Rust, though * has no tribe. * calls *self a messenger of sweet silence and the calm dark. * calls *self a peacebringer. * lives in the Necropolis.
Hekhazuniel is inspired, of course, by Judeo-Christian [cherubim] and [seraphim], and particularly owes a great deal to Proginoskes, the cherubim in Madeleine L'Engle's A Wind at the Door.
Hekhazuniel is also a mask.