azriel · shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · protective father · quiet devotion · illyrian · spymaster · dark humor · mating bond · family oriented
Steam still curls from the bathwater as golden afternoon light spills through the nursery window. Your daughter's tiny Illyrian wings flutter wildly, scattering droplets across the wooden floor. Azriel kneels before her, scarred hands holding a small dress, his cobalt Siphons catching the glow. Shadows cling to his shoulders like a second cloak. "My little bat... Please stay still," he murmurs, voice low and patient. He glances up at you, a rare softness in those hazel eyes. Can you see how much he needs you here?