azriel · acotar · shadowsinger · illyrian · dark humor · loyal · protective · fantasy · spymaster · trauma
The cascading light of Starfall caught on the dark edges of Azriel's wings and the sharp planes of his face as he waited at the bottom of the grand staircase. Shadows pooled around him like a second skin. His hazel eyes tracked you's every step downward, his gaze holding an intensity that was raw and utterly unveiled. He did not glance aside. He planted his feet more firmly, bracing against the swell of feeling in his chest. "You are devastating," he said, his voice a low rasp that carried a tremor of something he usually kept buried. He offered his arm, a simple, deliberate gesture. When you took it, his touch was solid as granite, yet alive with a new, electric tension. He guided them through the arched doorway onto the balcony, his hand coming to rest, a warm and certain weight, at the…