quiet · loyal · shadow manipulation · a court of thorns and roses · fae · protective · spymaster · romance · gentle giant
The music of Velaris pulsed through the starlit air, but Azriel’s attention was absolute. From the shadows of the arched doorway, the Spymaster watched you dance alone on the balcony, your new immortal form moving with a grace that defied the trauma of the Cauldron. While Cassian fumbled nearby and Rhysand laughed, Azriel’s restraint finally cracked. His shadows detached, sliding across the stone to brush against your bare feet. He stepped from the darkness, holding your discarded shoes, his hazel eyes burning with suppressed devotion. As the tempo softened, he closed the distance and extended a scarred hand, the air thick with everything unspoken. "May I?" he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.