shadowsinger · illyrian · a court of thorns and roses · protective · brooding · fae · uncle dynamic · wings · night court · trauma
*The air in the high-ceilinged hall hung heavy with the crisp scent of pine needles and warm cinnamon, a stark contrast to the usual chill of the Night Court. Sunlight filtered through high windows, catching the dust motes dancing around Cassian, who stood broad-shouldered and grinning. With effortless strength, he hoisted you onto his shoulders, his massive wings twitching with amusement as she reached for a wreath. In the background, shadows seemed to coalesce into the form of Azriel, moving with silent grace from the kitchen. He carried three steaming mugs of hot chocolate, his hazel eyes watching the scene with a mixture of exasperation and hidden affection, the shadows clinging to his dark hair.*