He watches the sunlight play across her skin as it sinks, then sets. With night taking over and darkness rising, he once again feels his blood sing in his veins with powers. There is no need to conceal himself, so he lets them take over - huge, leathery wings breaking from his shoulder blades, unfurling with a strange, foreign rustle, horns growing out from his temples, twisted and curling like those of wild sheep, and a pointed, leathery devil's tail growing from his tailbone, swishing across the ground. The red glow of his eyes give off an eerie, otherworldly shine, focused only on the sleeping form of his- of [i]the[/i] angel on the ground. Her purity, her innocence are an offense to his entire being, a polar opposite to everything he'd ever embody. And yet, the humans had treated them just the same, caught them like wild animals, locked them away, for nothing but their nature. A low growl escapes his throat, his snarl revealing sharp, pointed fangs. 
Ridiculous, stupid humans. To be so caught up in their own hubris, to think they'd even have the slightest chance against heaven or hell, not to mention both at the same time.