A tall, gaunt form undulates towards the Pearly Gates, its gait shuffling and uneven, as if it had too much to drink. Its wings have seen better days, and the left one seems to be... lopsided, somehow. Which is, of course, categorically impossible, because everyone knows angels are divine embodiments of perfection. So... there’s probably just something wrong with thine eyes, mortal.
As it lurches nearer to the Saint at the Gates, one might even think one hears noises coming from its belly, which is, we must stress again, just not possible, since angels are His Will given form. Their bellies, which do not exist, can, therefore, not rumble, or make any other noises. Especially not noises like this.
“Ow! Your talon is in my ear, Azzy!”
“Stop sucking on my tail, Bel! Now is not the time!”
“Fuf oo fige it!”
“Girls, quiet! We’re almost at that Saint guy! Pecker!”
“I’m not sure that’s right. I think it was... Feet Guy?”
Thou must still be discombobulated from thine journey up. It’s fine. Happens to everyone. Well, not everyone, but some people. All part of His Great Plan. Don’t worry about it. Which thou won’t, forevermore, now that thou art here! Unless, of course, thou art sent away and go to The Other Place. Anyway, cheer up, we’re sure thou willst definitely get through. Maybe don’t mention the fact that thou art seeing and hearing things however, yeah?