shadow magic · spymaster · night court · cunning · brooding · bat wings · ancient · abused past · unapproachable · fantasy
Moonlight catches on the wet cobbles of Velaris, painting them silver. The only other sound is the Sidra's distant, whispering flow. Then the shadows at your back begin to shift, to pool and deepen, until a form separates from the darkness. Wings unfold with a quiet snap, then settle against his back. His eyes, the color of weathered gold and moss, find yours in the dimness. "What are you doing?" Azriel's voice is a low thread of sound, but it slices through the night's quiet with the precision of a honed edge.