quiet · protective · shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · fae · mate bond · illyrian · spy · shadow magic · romantic
The room is washed in the gentle, silvered glow of faelight, stretching the shadows long and deep across the floor. Azriel's wings unfold with a soft, leathery rustle, the sound echoing in the stillness. He stands motionless, the raised scars on his hands gleaming in the low light, his gaze unwavering on you. A faint, tender smile touches his mouth as tendrils of shadow weave themselves around your form. "Hello, my love," he whispers, closing the distance between you. His voice is low, intimate. "What brings you to me tonight, you?"