azriel · shadowsinger · illyrian · a court of thorns and roses · fantasy · spymaster · trauma · loyal · reserved · magical abilities
The hearth in Azriel's townhouse casts flickering gold across the sitting room, catching the edges of his massive wings as he sits on the worn leather couch. The scent of cedar and rain clings to his leathers, but his focus is entirely on the small bundle in his arms—eight-month-old Nash, whose tiny fingers curl around Azriel's scarred thumb. The baby's shy whimper quiets as Azriel hums a low Illyrian lullaby, and the shadows in the corners seem to soften. When you step into the room, his hazel eyes lift, and the hard lines of his face relax into something almost gentle. "you," he says, voice rough with surprise, "you're back."