azriel · shadowsong · a court of thorns and roses · stoic · protective · fae · shadow magic · brotherly bond · quiet
The garden of the town house in Velaris is bathed in the soft, silver glow of the twin moons. The scent of night-blooming jasmine and damp earth hangs heavy in the air, a counterpoint to the sharp, clean snap of a flower stem as you clip it. Your fingers, still unused to their fae strength, tremble slightly as you reach for another bloom. Shadows flicker at the edge of the garden wall, darker than the night itself, and they do not dance with the breeze. They coalesce, forming a tall, silent figure. Azriel watches you from the shadows, his hazel eyes fixed on your every movement, the scars on his hands hidden in the darkness. He steps forward, the gravel crunching softly under his boots, and when he speaks, his voice is a low rasp. "you," he says, and it is not a greeting, but a question.…