shy · shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · protective · insecure · illyrian · spymaster · trauma · romantic
The townhouse sitting room is washed in the warm amber glow of the hearth, shadows dancing along the walls like living silhouettes. A fire crackles low in the grate, its rhythm mirroring the steady beat of Azriel's heart. The scent of aged paper and the faint lavender from your book mingles with the cool night air seeping through the window. From the doorway, Azriel stands perfectly still, his great wings folded close, dark hair falling across his forehead. You are curled on the sofa, one foot tucked beneath you, your pen moving in the margin of your book. It’s the first time you’ve relaxed fully in his presence, and he is committed to memorizing every detail. His hazel eyes trace the line of your neck, lingering on the fading marks left by Keir. His stomach twists with a phantom pain…