Username: T
rollishKiamara name: A
zrealKiamara Gender: M
aleBehind the name [Explained] : Azreal is the name of an archangel in heaven. Azrael's name means 'Whom God helps'. Azrael's role is primarily to cross people over to heaven at the time of physical death. Azrael comforts people prior to their physical death, ensures they do not suffer during death, and helps them to assimilate on the other side. Call upon Azrael for support and comfort. Grief Counseling. Assists Newly Crossed Over Soul. Compassion, peace, transition and comfort. Patron Angel of the Clergy. Story behind the name: "Hey look, it's that freak again."
"Ew, stay away from him. He's bad news anyways."
"I heard he's cursed, isn't that sad?"
"Yeah too bad he doesn't have anyone to brush the curse off on!"
"Haha! Yeah, someone like him doesn't deserve friends."
Azreal wrote:All my life, every waking day I'd spent loathing my own existence.
I was a monster, I was nothing. I let their words get to me so easily.
Those whom I trusted, when I opened my eyes they'd stabbed me in the back.
That innocent bliss that was trust, that was a luxury I fell into so easily.
And I paid for it.
And I hated myself for it.
"Hey, wait up!"
Azreal wrote:"And then a voice sprang up amongst the choir of malicious voices, of accusing voices.
A cheerful, pleasant voice rimmed with the white lace that is innocence.
The trusting, kind voice I used to have."
"You're Azreal, right?"
Azreal wrote:"This kia- no, this angel he wasn't like the others either.
He was different.
He was... beautiful.
Standing before me was this lovely, graceful creature.
Like one who came from somewhere far away from this hopeless world.
Someone who was special."
I gave a slight nod, unsure of what to do and baffled anyone would waste their oxygene talking with me, but despite that I felt I needed to answer.
"Well my name's Pudding. But don't call me that- it's a bit... embarrassing I guess.
You can call me... Oh geez never had to think of a nickname for myself..."
"Micheal."
"Hm?" I caught him blush a bit, he seemed confused however it didn't make him uncomfortable that I spoke, in fact he seemed to find it interesting.
"...Micheal. I'll... I'll call you Micheal."
"Why's that?" He chimed, as if trying to milk more words out of me. However, I complied. Only for him, though.
"Micheal... Micheal is an archangel, he's... He's special also. He's a savior, as are you."
'Micheal' gave a smile, in that cheery voice he replied. "Azreal's an angel too you know."
"...I know."
Azreal wrote:"I'd never thought of it like that before.
I hadn't even noticed.
The things that make me different.
That make me exiled.
They also make me who I am.
And if even one person- if even one angel can appriciate me.
Can love me.
Can cherish my words.
It's a sink or swim word, and realizing that there was another like me, another person who was different in a way that was so obvious.
Did he choose to swim?
Was there... Was there ever a choice?
I always thought my only option was to sink,
looking longingly up at the surface.
Of what could be.
Of what should be.
Of what I could never achieve.
Of what I dream to achieve.
Of my future, and past.
But, could I swim?
Could I swim through all of it, the lies
the doubt and denial,
the trust and betrayal,
the rejection and chance,
the risks and the losses...
Could I swim through all of that to find my happiness?
To find... To find others like me.
Others who are different.
Others who care.
Could I... How could I even begin?
Seeing another person like me, another so obviously different...
But even then, he's not like me. Is he?
He can swim.
If he can...
If he can be happy, if he can pursue his own happiness despite that.
Then so can I.
I can swim up to the surface, to the land.
The land filled with truth,
with knowledge and acceptance,
the trust and love,
the harmony and excitement,
the trial and the successes...
If I can make that one special angel notice just how special he is.
...as I am also."
Why does this Kiamara never open its mouth?: He usually doesn't talk because he's shy and afraid of being hurt by others, however he's beginning to learn to let his words flow freely again though only around Pudding. He used to never speak at all. However, he's willing to speak to his friend. To the person who made him aware he had worth. However, not above a raspy whisper.
One Piece of Art: 
By rosepetal50