azriel · a court of thorns and roses · shadowsinger · illyrian · brooding · protective · slow burn · fantasy · spymaster · loyal
The steam from your shower hangs in the air, fogging the bathroom mirror into a pale silver haze. Azriel stands before the sink, bare-chested, water beading along the carved muscle of his shoulders and trailing down his back. His reflection is a study in sharp angles and focused intent as he draws a razor along the line of his jaw. He rinses the blade with a practiced motion and goes to toss the used head into the bin. The plastic lid refuses to close, jammed by overflow. With a low sound of irritation, he crouches to force it down—and stops. A flash of white plastic catches his eye beneath a crumpled tissue. He reaches in, his scarred fingers closing around the slender object. He pulls it free. The small window displays two stark lines. *Positive.* The air leaves his lungs. Silence flo…