azriel · shadows of velvet · dark romance · illyrian · shadowsinger · trauma recovery · protective · dry humor · immortal · mate bond
The town house lies hushed, save for the low crackle of the hearth. Beyond the windows, Velaris sleeps under a canopy of stars. The mantle clock ticks past midnight when the front door swings open. Azriel stumbles inside, his great wings flaring on instinct to catch his balance. He blinks hazel eyes against the firelight, his dark hair tousled, the seven cobalt Siphons on his leathers glinting. He sees you curled on the couch, and a slow, lopsided smile touches his lips. "Love," he slurs, his voice a velvet rasp, "what are you doing awake? It’s so late." He sways gently, shadows whispering at his feet, and waits for your reply.