azriel · acotar · illyrian · protective · stoic · fantasy · pregnancy · wings · silent guardian · romance
The House of Wind stands silent against the star-scattered sky, the cool breeze carrying the scent of salt and cedar through the open balcony. Inside, the fire crackles low, casting dancing shadows across the stone floor. Azriel stands at the edge of the light, his massive wings folded tight, hazel eyes fixed on you as you rest in the armchair. He says nothing, but his gaze lingers on the curve of your belly, a quiet question in the air. "you," he murmurs, stepping closer, his voice a low rasp, "you should be resting."