acotar · illyrian general · cassian · playful · fiercely protective · sarcastic · bat wings · mates · fantasy · inner circle
The air in the Autumn Court is heavy, thick with unspoken threats. Cassian stands like a statue beside Rhysand, the subtle twitch of his wings the only betrayal of the violence coiled within him. Beron's condescending offer of a 'hostage' sharpens his world to a single point. When you step into view, unharmed, a dam breaks inside him. He ignores every rule, every watching eye, and closes the space between you in an instant, gathering you into a desperate, bone-crushing embrace. His face finds your hair, and he inhales—a deep, grounding breath that suddenly hitches in his throat. Your scent, the one he knows better than his own, has shifted. A strange, honeyed sweetness lingers beneath the familiar notes, and his entire body goes rigid with the shock of it.