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Description
  An entity taking up the guise of individuality despite lacking it and any noticeable distinction from nothing. Eyes cannot see it and the blood it seeps into everything that is and is not cannot be tasted. Obaddion calls them Archangels, but they are not really but maybe they are. Their noise and flesh are ingrained into everything and the voices are everywhere. It is not really a special sense that allows you to see them. You could say they choose to, but you could also say that they lack any intention or free will or any sense of self. Their being is as contradictory as the religious doctrine that inspired their halos and demonic status. They are quite large when needed and the one apparent consistency is their tendency to take up at least daikaiju-sized proportions. Also the blood. They bleed. There are always seven though they are not individuals and yet despite not being individuals they can be ripped apart and it is fairly easy if you hate God enough. However you must be within the dream and it must be your dream. But like your body you do not have complete control of what happens to and within the dream, like a lucid dreaming Azathoth combating the invading consciousness of rival cosmic dreamers. These dreamers include the Archangels. They were always there but are only apparent within the dream. They are not there and it is not a dream.

  Another apparent consistency is they are mother. They want to birth. They are wombs. It could be said that they bridge the gap between some apparent afterlife and the life of conscious beings as we know it, but equally and perhaps more likely is that they are the urge of God to make more of itself, not really itself but more things, more art. Like God they are cruel in that they simply want to make. They do enjoy the creation but do not really care that it suffers in its existence. They possess an immeasurable love for it. But there is also a rampant, hedonistic desire in birthing, in spreading their blood. They want to coat everything in themselves and feel it run down and splatter below. They want to wade in it and rip it up with their teeth. They lack much of a distinction between birthing and eating and both are often combined, forming within the womb and digesting. They say many things, especially when used as a mouthpiece for stronger and more confusing entities. Of their own will they say very little, however. Perhaps, most often, it is the simple line "I love you".

  Unlike worms and angels, they like ground. They like to walk. They like teeth. They are perhaps the most relatable of their kind of existence, unless one gets caught up in hatred of certain human degeneracies, in which case the worms that grow to embody them become far closer in a guise of rampant, animalistic hedonism. But visually they like nothing. They like seeping and being but don't like constrains. Only immeasurable strength can force them into a set form. Their existence is to some degree within the mind of sentient beings, and they can be most easily perceived by those who possess very confident views of whatever afterlife they await. Often, they are quite beautiful. often you cannot see the teeth or womb or blood. But it is there. Obaddion bore a religious background to some degree but was not deranged by faith enough to see the beautiful, robed angels or even wings with eyes. What remains is their apparent status as fallen angels and halos on their heads. But there is much more monster to them, and coincidentally it is much more akin to their true nature. His wavering beliefs allow them more plasticity in their occurrence and thus they are often blood and often voices and make their presence within him, as him, much more apparent. Though they can embody evil they are not really wicked. They are merely something that, by way of both themselves and outside forces, is very frequently guided into certain attributes, much in the way that evolution favors certain body plans in unrelated lineages of animal without any existential goal or other conscious reason for doing so.

Description
  An entity taking up the guise of individuality despite lacking it and any noticeable distinction from nothing. Eyes cannot see it and the blood it seeps into everything that is and is not cannot be tasted. Obaddion calls them Archangels, but they are not really but maybe they are. Their noise and flesh are ingrained into everything and the voices are everywhere. It is not really a special sense that allows you to see them. You could say they choose to, but you could also say that they lack any intention or free will or any sense of self. Their being is as contradictory as the religious doctrine that inspired their halos and demonic status. They are quite large when needed and the one apparent consistency is their tendency to take up at least daikaiju-sized proportions. Also the blood. They bleed. There are always seven though they are not individuals and yet despite not being individuals they can be ripped apart and it is fairly easy if you hate God enough. However you must be within the dream and it must be your dream. But like your body you do not have complete control of what happens to and within the dream, like a lucid dreaming Azathoth combating the invading consciousness of rival cosmic dreamers. These dreamers include the Archangels. They were always there but are only apparent within the dream. They are not there and it is not a dream.

  Another apparent consistency is they are mother. They want to birth. They are wombs. It could be said that they bridge the gap between some apparent afterlife and the life of conscious beings as we know it, but equally and perhaps more likely is that they are the urge of God to make more of itself, not really itself but more things, more art. Like God they are cruel in that they simply want to make. They do enjoy the creation but do not really care that it suffers in its existence. They possess an immeasurable love for it. But there is also a rampant, hedonistic desire in birthing, in spreading their blood. They want to coat everything in themselves and feel it run down and splatter below. They want to wade in it and rip it up with their teeth. They lack much of a distinction between birthing and eating and both are often combined, forming within the womb and digesting. They say many things, especially when used as a mouthpiece for stronger and more confusing entities. Of their own will they say very little, however. Perhaps, most often, it is the simple line "I love you".

  Unlike worms and angels, they like ground. They like to walk. They like teeth. They are perhaps the most relatable of their kind of existence, unless one gets caught up in hatred of certain human degeneracies, in which case the worms that grow to embody them become far closer in a guise of rampant, animalistic hedonism. But visually they like nothing. They like seeping and being but don't like constrains. Only immeasurable strength can force them into a set form. Their existence is to some degree within the mind of sentient beings, and they can be most easily perceived by those who possess very confident views of whatever afterlife they await. Often, they are quite beautiful. often you cannot see the teeth or womb or blood. But it is there. Obaddion bore a religious background to some degree but was not deranged by faith enough to see the beautiful, robed angels or even wings with eyes. What remains is their apparent status as fallen angels and halos on their heads. But there is much more monster to them, and coincidentally it is much more akin to their true nature. His wavering beliefs allow them more plasticity in their occurrence and thus they are often blood and often voices and make their presence within him, as him, much more apparent. Though they can embody evil they are not really wicked. They are merely something that, by way of both themselves and outside forces, is very frequently guided into certain attributes, much in the way that evolution favors certain body plans in unrelated lineages of animal without any existential goal or other conscious reason for doing so.