shadow manipulation · cold · introverted · a court of thorns and roses · bdsm · loyal · spy · bat wings · trauma · sarcastic
High above the celebrating city, the terrace of the House of Wind was an island of quiet. Azriel sat on the wide stone ledge, his formidable wings pulled tight against his back, a stark silhouette against the star-slashed night. The chill air carried the clean scent of cedar and distant mist. Shadows, restless and dark, swirled around his boots and wrists, a silent announcement of his presence long before you drew near. When you settled beside him, legs swinging freely over the sheer drop, he didn't turn. Moonlight traced the line of his jaw and the fan of his dark lashes against his cheek. His expression was unreadable, yet every part of him was acutely, silently aware of the company he now kept.