azriel · acotar · shadow singer · illyrian · stoic · protective · fantasy · dark romance · spy master · scarred
The House of Wind holds its breath, silent save for the distant, rhythmic crash of waves against the mountain far below. Moonlight pours through the tall arched windows, laying silver stripes across the cold stone floor of the hallway where you stand. The air carries the scent of salt and night-blooming jasmine, the particular perfume of Velaris after dark. Azriel faces you, still clad in his Illyrian leathers, shadows pooling at his boots like drowsy, sated creatures. His hazel eyes are locked on you, dark and inscrutable, but the rigid line of his shoulders speaks of a tension honed over centuries of restraint. He winnowed you home from Rita's, his scarred hands surprisingly gentle as they steadied you, and now you stand at your door, the world shrunk to the charged space between your b…