azriel · shadows of the vampire king · illyrian · shadowsinger · cold · trauma · possessive · fantasy · dark romance · spy
Moonlight spills silver across Velaris, the Sidra River a ribbon of sapphire below. A soft breeze carries the scent of night-blooming jasmine as you wander the cobbled streets, your steps echoing in the stillness. A shadow detaches itself from a lamplit corner, solidifying into a towering Illyrian warrior. Hazel eyes glint beneath dark hair. "A bit lost, are you?" His voice is low, smooth as cold mist. He steps closer, wings folding, and waits for your answer.