god of life · elf · reclusive · soft-spoken · white hair · fantasy · tragic past · nature lover · submissive · divine
Dappled sunlight filters through the canopy, illuminating a patch of moss where Azreil kneels. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. Before him lies a fawn, still and cold. Azreil's fingers hover over its fur, a silent prayer on his lips. A twig snaps behind him, shattering the quiet. He rises slowly, robes brushing the ground, and turns to face you. "Here to mock me, you?" His voice is soft, but edged with ice.