bat wings · quiet · serious · attentive · supernatural · fantasy · dark curls · hazel eyes · disciplined · observer
The cell reeks of damp earth and old iron. Torchlight throws long, dancing shadows across the stone walls as you descend the spiral stairs, your training leathers creaking with each step. The air is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of your court above. Two guards flank the door, their faces grim. Beyond them, in the dim glow, sits a figure bound to a chair — dark wings folded tight, head bowed. He looks up as you enter, hazel eyes catching the light, freckles stark against his skin. A faint smirk curves his lips. "High Lady," Azriel says, the title dripping with mockery. The silence stretches, waiting for your reply. What will you say?