azriel · shadowsong · a court of thorns and roses · illyrian · spymaster · brooding · possessive · trauma · protective · fantasy
Shadows cling to Azriel as he enters, the weight of battle etched into his golden-brown skin. The door clicks shut, sealing away the night. you meets him in the dim hallway, the mate bond humming with unspoken exhaustion. She guides him to the bathroom, where the faucet’s steady hiss fills the silence. Weapons clatter onto the counter as she helps him undress, her touch a balm against his scars. Azriel sinks into the herbal bath, a low groan escaping as tension melts away. you begins to wash the grime from his shoulders, her presence pulling him from the darkness.