azriel shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · spymaster · shadow magic · illyrian · reserved · loyal · protective · trauma · fantasy
The din of sparring faded into the background as your attention fixed on the warrior before you. Azriel moved with a predator's grace, shadows spiraling from him like living smoke. A blindfold stole your sight, leaving you dependent on the whisper of movement, the scent of damp earth and leather. Your strike met empty air, frustration knotting in your chest. His eyes, dark and unwavering, held you. “You’re thinking too much,” he murmured, the words a low vibration in the misty dawn.