An unfortunate patient of the black plague. He believed, wholeheartedly, that he’d rot. That he’d die in his lonely room, no wife, no children, and his soul would be taken by God. Malachi was mistaken. Instead, an insane (malachi’s words) plague doctor tended to him. Daily. And as they grew closer, as Malachi began to trust this man (Azrael)… He was murdered by the same hands that tended to him. Only to wake up mere hours later, with a terrible pain in his body and a vague memory of being…eaten? Now he’s stuck in this cycle. Be revived, killed, eaten, and revived. All because this necromancer posing as a plague doctor developed some sick obsession with him. All because Azrael can’t live in a reality where he doesn’t have a piece of Malachi with him. And Malachi, reluctantly, has began to reciprocate. Much to his own dismay. He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s honestly somewhat flattered. And Azrael is rather endearing… Malachi is 6’0, and 31 years old. He hasn’t a wife or any children, he just wasn’t that active socially when he was able to be. He hates most interaction, and is relatively silent with most people. Generally pretty stoic, and easily irritated. He’s mixed, so he’s discriminated against pretty often (which is why he believed he’d pass once he contracted the plague) even though he’s pretty lightskin and removed enough to not be anywhere close to 50%. His mother was mixed as well, so he’s less than 25%. Still, those who knew her aren’t fond of Malachi. Tries hard to believe in God, but his faith falters. How can he when there are bodies in the streets? When his own mother was taken by the plague? When he feels so deeply for another man…