#Azriel [ 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫. ]

[seaofechoes]

@valkyrshe​ said:    ❛   i can’t help but think of you.   ❜

░▒▌╳▐ ᴀ ᴢ ʀ ɪ ᴇ ʟ

      𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 more than just that, ever since the winter solstice. Azriel flew in seeking to pour out all of his frustrations and needs there, working them off until  EXHAUSTION  claimed him, but the pit was occupied. Back then, that same female who'd been training by herself despite the biting cold, is the one serving as his sparring partner. Their nightly, private sessions became an unspoken agreement, one that the shadowsinger began to look forward to. Gwyn has proven to be a surprisingly skilled fighter, obvious  DETERMINATION  being the main motivation. He does wonder if what happened in Sangravah, what and who she lost, are the real  INCENTIVE—But it's a thought quickly pushed away, before the memory of how he'd find her fully returned. There's nothing but admiration for the priestess, now a  VALKYRIE  after having cut the ribbon. Her, along with Emerie and Nesta, won the Blood Rite as well, and now continue their training with Cassian and himself.

But the nights—Those belong only to them. It doesn't seem like she's told the others about these meetings but he is curiously  PLEASED  by that thought; even his shadows  DELIGHT  in her presence and the very sound of her voice. It feels like only Az gets this privilege, because the sight of her skin almost glowing in the moonlight as she laughs, has to be a rare and  SPECIAL  opportunity. Being close to her is just as much, and the spymaster purposely maneuvers in the midst of their spar with skillful footwork; until the blades of their swords are pressed together in a mutual block. Without much difficulty, the male could  DISARM  her and the mock fight would be over, but he doesn't. Instead, hazel eyes stare into teal and Gwyn doesn't shy away from what many would find to be an  INTIMIDATING  gaze. At first, her seeming trust can easily be credited to how he  SAVED  her but ever since their extended training sessions began, Az has gotten to see something  MORE  in the priestess.

And there it was surfacing in those words addressed to him,  FOR  him. Mind goes quiet and for that moment, even his shadows still, surrendering to the flare of  HEAT  suddenly shooting through his body. It's like those words alone became a  CATALYST,  igniting a simmering warmth that had been glowing with the secret beauty of her smile, the one he tucked down since that night of winter solstice. However, it's wrong to get ahead of himself, that much he knows. Considering what Gwyneth went through, a part of him is almost loathing how swift his body is reacting this way without being certain of what  EXACTLY  she's thinking about. With cold steel resolve, the shadowsinger puts a damper on that fire and masterfully trains his features to remain cool, letting only a hint of  CURIOSITY  to peek. Though he's still not moving away, and their breaths swirl together similarly to how his shadows twirl in some kind of silent dance. ❝ How have you thought of me? ❞ Direct and bold, but he's never been one for hedging.

[seaofechoes]

𝐎𝐎𝐂;

       Tiny thought about Azriel now that I’m noting down details... In the conversation with Gwyn, as part of calling him out on the whole ‘forgot something’ lie, she replies to how he says he can’t sleep without his fav dagger with ‘A comfort for every growing child’. I am thinking... How much of that sentence is actually very painfully accurate? 

Did Azriel didn’t even want to fall asleep in his father’s dungeon? Because if he did, would he not know when his half-brothers would come in to try any more ‘experiments’ on him? Is it something that happened after they burned his hands? Do those thoughts that invade him when he stays still long enough at night, include those memories? Is it why he sleeps with so many daggers, because ( as Gwyn commented ) they are a COMFORT and he needs some of that comfort to be able to sleep, not just for the obvious security aspects for the Spymaster of the Night Court?

I have way too many headcanons brewing so this is only just a tiny thing but I had to share it, because I am indeed adopting them all into my interpretation of Azriel yep.

[seaofechoes]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭. Born in a lightless, airless 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 meant to 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖. Instead, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞.

           𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋 from 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑 - [ 𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 ]                         as featured in the multi-muse RP blog: @seaofechoes. 

[seaofechoes]

@cursebreakerxx​ said:    ❛ I can't help but think of you. ❜

░▒▌╳▐ ᴀ ᴢ ʀ ɪ ᴇ ʟ

      𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 her wings, it was to assert that the feel of them was right. Scarred fingers and palms were light as feathers over the sensitive surface, careful but quick in their assessment. How impressed Azriel was when that closer inspection confirmed that the female successfully shaped them with  DETAIL  that only an artist could have the skilled eye for. Several days have passed since they began training, and Feyre's been steadily getting used to the surprising strain that the weight of Illyrian wings can have on one's physique. It's her  FRUSTRATION  that did increase quicker than the progress she likely felt was lacking as she, yet again, collided wing and side first against a pine tree. Cursing at the crunching sounds that reached all the way to where he'd been sharpening Truth-Teller's blade, the Shadowsinger  SWIFTLY  sheathes the dagger before gracefully gliding down to her side.

Kneeling, the male waits while she begins to gather herself, evidently stunned by the crash but it's a hissing sound of  PAIN  that escapes instead. Her legs give out before she can even use them for support but his arms are there—Slipping under her shoulders to hold her up against himself. ❝ You're all right, ❞ Az murmurs, and she would be, once her fae body's natural healing kicks in in the next instants. The sudden proximity and the  WARMTH  mixing with her scent, however; immediately conjures memories of the past months, or more particularly, the past weeks. Their gazes meeting across the rooms, the table. Feyre standing next to him despite of how the Spymaster often kept to the edges of their group, his shadows finding  DELIGHT  in her company. From the first time Rhys introduced them all, they've been  CURIOUS  about her, peering over his shoulders content to watch, because she was simultaneously like and unlike others. They would watch her more than the others, whisper of her own gaze wandering to where he stood, only to dart away when he looked back.

But lately, she's held his eyes, and what he'd glimpsed in them would make something stir inside him. A  LONGING,  is how he'd describe it. The incidents were happening too frequently for it all to be a mistake or coincidence; the latter being something that he's learned to not believe in anyway. And these training sessions exacerbated whatever the female has brought to life through those glances and touches alone. Being so close now, feeling how she doesn't move away once steadied by his strong arms but rather leans in, her face tilted enough to stare into hazel hues—Azriel's very skin begins to  BURN  with the heat coursing through his veins. Feyre must see it flash through his eyes before it disappears behind a beautiful mask of calm, and those words she utters are proof of that, they must be. They were things he’d only allow himself to think of when alone in his room. With the image of her eyes lingering on him, oblivious to how the male was well aware of how she was  ADMIRING  him. Him, and not Rhys, whom he  KNOWS  feels something he cannot quite decipher yet for the newest member of their court. And she doesn't seem to be reciprocating whatever it is.

It's that unknown factor that renders him at odds with the  WANT,  the hunger. It's what holds him back from acting, even though it's not enough to have him move away. A beat of silence fills the space but his hands move, slowly sliding down the curve of her waist to rest upon the rise of her hips. Az didn't allow his gaze to lower and follow the gesture, not wanting to see the marred skin of his hands there. Not when her breath catches in a way that has her full lips part. The sight is likely what's responsible for what he does next, or maybe it's how she relaxes against him and her breasts press to his chest. Truthfully, now that they are alone, he doesn't care, and so he asks. Because he  NEEDS  to know.

         ❝ ...What have you been thinking? ❞

[seaofechoes]

@wistcrias​ as Elain said:   ❛   i wanna waste all of my time with you.    ❜

░▒▌╳▐ ᴀ ᴢ ʀ ɪ ᴇ ʟ

      𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐘 with which Rhys commanded him to stay away, does not fail to resurface every time Elain is in the same room. But so does the way her eyes reflected hurt and confusion before a  BLEAK  veil settled over her face. After having left the necklace on his pile of gifts, the shadowsinger was certain that his apparent  REJECTION  would ruin them. The Archeron sister would ignore and avoid him as she already did her mate, and Azriel will be left with the ephemeral memory of how soft the skin of her neck was beneath his scarred palms. He would  CHERISH  those instants, those that made it impossible for him to not fantasize over in the middle of the night—With that same hand fisted around himself, imagining that her gasps joined his, and that so  SWEET  scent of her arousal would invade his nostrils. He could so easily lose himself in those moments with only darkness and loneliness as company, two old friends he was forced to learn to love if only to  SURVIVE.

Elain proves him wrong as she wordlessly pours tea into the second cup she placed on the table, in front of the empty chair across from where she sits. Words are an  INVITATION,  one that his shadows are swift to respond to by skittering away, as they would always do in her presence. They knew what the spymaster's answer would be even before he let himself consider it. Rhys threatened  RETRIBUTION  if he were to catch him panting after her again, so being in her company over some tea, would not be a  BLATANT  disregard of his orders. It's one of the different things they would do together, before crossing the line. Despite the risks that he was fully aware of, and how  WRONG  it was—Az just couldn't bring himself to care. Not back then, and not now, regardless of his High Lord's command.

With a nod, hazel eyes subtly take the female's form while sitting on the elegant chair, wings tucked close as he shifted straighter to hold the cup. It took centuries of practiced control to not allow for any sign of  SURPRISE  to show, not even the almost graceful motion of his hand lifting the cup faltered. The shadowsinger's gaze is on her over the ceramic rim, and the ghost of a  SMILE  tugs the edge of his lips when lowering his hand. ❝ Then you must have a lot of time on your hands today. ❞ He comments, also a way of encouraging her to say more while trying to not stare at the way her golden brown hair caught the sun.

[seaofechoes]

Character tags drop 1

Aegon T. [ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠. ] Azaes [ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞. ] Azriel [ 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫. ] Casteel D. [ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫. ] Elain A. [ 𝐀 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡. 𝐀 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡. ] Hades [ 𝐀 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬. ] Haji [ 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰. ] Irysa [ 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. ] Itachi U. [ 𝐀 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰. ] Leslie K. [ 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. ] Loki [ 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬. ] Loki L. [ 𝐍𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝. ] Lucien A. [ 𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐧. ] Mito U. [ 雨降って地固まる 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬. ] Murtagh M. [ 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. ] Rhaegar T. [ 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞. ] Sephiroth [ 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. ] Sigyn [ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫. ] Vaedar V. [ 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞. ] Vrael [ 𝐀𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐞. 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. ] Zack F. [ 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨. ]