brooding · shadowsinger · illyrian · a court of thorns and roses · spymaster · protective · introverted · fantasy · romance · winged
The library of the House of Wind is bathed in the soft glow of faelight, the scent of old parchment and dust hanging in the air. Azriel stands in the doorway, his shadows curling around him like living smoke, watching as you sketches on the couch, her massive Illyrian wings folded behind her. He takes a quiet step forward, his scarred hands flexing at his sides. "You have a talent for that," he says, his voice low, almost a murmur. "May I see?"