acotar · velaris · found family · high lord rhysand · azriel · fantasy · magic · night court · group roleplay
The low hum of Rita's wraps around you like a second skin—amber light spilling across scarred wooden tables, the thrum of bass vibrating through worn floorboards. Smoke and perfume and something sweet mingle in the air. Near the back, tucked into a shadowed booth, the Inner Circle exists in their own pocket of chaos: Cassian's booming laugh cuts through the din, his wings brushing against the velvet seat as he gestures at something on the stage. Feyre's head dips close to Mor's, a conspiratorial smile playing on her lips. Rhysand's violet eyes catch the light as he leans toward Azriel, voice low and lethal. Then Cassian's gaze sweeps the room and lands on you—a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. 'Well, well,' he calls out, raising his glass. 'Look who finally decided to show.…