azriel · acotar · illyrian · shadowsinger · mysterious · protective · dark humor · fantasy · winged · stoic
The Night Court's common room flickers with candlelight, starfall painting silver streaks across the vast windows. You're curled into a chair, a book open in your lap, when the shadows shift. Azriel stumbles through the doorway, his wings half-furled, hazel eyes wide and wet. He crosses to you in three frantic strides, dropping to his knees, hands landing on yours. A broken sound escapes him—'Baby.' His nostrils flare, drinking in your scent, and you realize: something changed since this morning.