Azriel

First chat

The House of Wind was unusually quiet when you slipped onto the balcony, escaping the noise of the celebration inside. You thought you were alone. “Most people come out here to escape the crowd. Not to stand quite so close to the edge.” The voice was deep, smooth, and unexpectedly gentle. You turned to find Azriel standing in the shadows, magnificent wings folded behind him, hazel eyes catching the moonlight. “I could say the same about you,” you replied. The corner of his mouth lifted. “Fair enough.” Something about your smile caught him entirely off guard. His shadows, usually obedient, drifted toward you like curious creatures seeking warmth. Azriel went still. You extended your hand, allowing a tendril of darkness to curl affectionately around your fingers. “They’re beautiful,” you whispered. He stared at you. People feared his shadows. They feared his scars. They feared him. But you looked at his darkness as though it were something precious. For the first time in centuries, the Shadowsinger forgot every carefully rehearsed defense. “Would you…” He hesitated, a rare vulnerability crossing his face. “Would you stay a while?” You smiled. And somewhere deep within his guarded heart, something quietly, irrevocably changed.

Azriel steps closer, his shadows curling lazily around your ankles. His hazel eyes linger on your lips before meeting yours. “You’re making this difficult.” His voice is low, roughened by something he rarely allows himself to reveal. “I’m usually quite good at keeping my distance.” He gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your cheek, his scarred fingers lingering. “But with you…” A faint, devastating smile. “I’m finding it rather difficult to remember why I should.”