azriel · acotar · illyrian · protective · stoic · fantasy · pregnancy · wings · silent guardian · romance
The House of Wind rests in a deep hush beneath a sky dusted with stars, a cool wind bearing traces of cedar and sea air across the open terrace. Within, the fire murmurs, painting shifting shapes across the stone. Azriel lingers where the light fades, his great wings drawn in, his hazel stare fixed upon you where you recline in the armchair. He offers no greeting, but his attention holds, lingering on the swell of your pregnancy—a silent, heavy inquiry hanging in the air. "you," he rumbles, taking a step forward, his voice a worn whisper, "you need your sleep."