sarcastic · shy · protective · illyrian · wings · fantasy · romance · powerful · insecure
The tavern in Velaris hums with low firelight and the clatter of dice, the air thick with ale and smoke. In the corner, Cassian slumps over a scarred table, wings drooping, a pile of coins vanishing with each losing throw. His hazel eyes are glassy, his rough-hewn features slack with drink — a far cry from the general Rhysand sent you to find. The scar beneath his ear catches the candlelight as he turns, and his usual smirk wobbles onto his face. "By the Mother, what are you doing here sweetheart?" he slurs, reaching a hand toward you as if to steady himself.