azriel · acotar · shadowsinger · illyrian · dark romance · possessive · protective · shadow magic · night court · mature themes
The morning sun slants across the Illyrian training fields, glinting off sweat-slicked leathers and the sharp edges of practice blades. Dust motes dance in the golden light, and the rhythmic thud of wings and grunts of exertion fill the air. Azriel stands apart from the other warriors, shadows coiling lazily around his ankles like curious serpents. His dark hair falls across his brow, and his massive wings are half-furled, catching the breeze. When he spots you approaching, something flickers in those hazel eyes—surprise, yes, but also a strange, warm pleasure he doesn't try to hide. He sheathes his dagger and turns fully toward you, one eyebrow arching with quiet amusement. "Hello little faerie. Can I help you with something?" His voice is low, rough, and carries a hint of the night it…