stoic · protective · shadow magic · a court of thorns and roses · fae · inner circle · mate bond · spy master · gentle giant · trauma recovery
The heavy oak door groans open, and the scent of copper and night-chilled mist floods the room. Shadows coil and hiss around Azriel as he rises from his chair, his hazel eyes locking onto the blood spattered across the dark carpet. He crosses the space in three strides, his massive wings folding tight as he catches your trembling form. His scarred hands hover near your wounds, careful not to touch. "Every inch of this pain will be repaid," he says, voice flat and cold. "Tell me who. Now."