"𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐔𝐏," 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃; 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒.
𝙄𝙉 𝙒𝙃𝙄𝘾𝙃 the youngest archeron was
born with her soul bathed in starlight.
...
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✧ ˚ 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒 like the embers of a smoldering fire, the barest amount of periwinkle and magenta burgeoning from the skyline as the sun continued its descent into the unknown. There was no spectacle, no masterpiece, that could ever hope to touch the beauty of iridescent night skies in Velaris, but its golden sunsets, resembling a mythical dragon's breath, sure did come close to it.
𝘼𝙕𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙇 stood at the balcony of the House of Wind, overlooking the city below. His weight was supported by the bracing of his forearms on marbled railing, dark wings tense behind him.
He'd found himself there more often in recent months, always pensive, and always frustratedㅡfrustrated by the knowledge that he could truly do nothing in wake magic Rhys had pulled to keep them in Velaris the last time they'd seen him. Forty nine years ago.
His shadows whispered to him about the newcomer's approach before Azriel scented her, a familiar cinnamon and strawberry that once simultaneously brought him comfort and yet made his heart race.
He didn't bother turning towards her as Mor stepped onto the balcony next to him. Her blonde hair glowed auburn in the sunset's blazing light, the color only strengthened by the vibrant red of her deep neck-lined, floor length gown.
She was beautiful. She'd always been beautiful, but the Illyrian male had found its effect on him growing less and less since that day three years ago.
"We haven't seen you around in a while," Mor spoke, her voice soft. She sent a small smile his way. "Cass is starting to think you've gone senile."
The jest didn't land as well as she'd hoped, and her expression faltered when he continued to stare out into the horizon, despondent.
"Cass has his own problems to worry about," Azriel grunted, unfurled wings shifting outward slightly.
Mor sighed. "I'm worried about you."
Once, the words, from her mouth, were everything he'd ever dreamt of. They might have even had his heart racing, years, centuries, of yearning rewarded.
But things had changed.
"You've always been distant," she said when he didn't respond. "ㅡat least since Rhys left, but especially these last couple of months." She placed a hand over his forearm, causing hazel eyes to flicker down towards the touch. "You can talk to us, Az. To me."
Azriel pretended not to notice the hurt that flashed across her features when he withdrew from her sharply, stepping away from her as his wings flexed, preparing for flight. "I have duties to attend to. I'll see you at dinner."
He took to the skies before she could respond, electing to make for the mountains instead of flying over the city. The wind grew biting the further up the cliff sides he went, frigidity nipping at the membranes of his wings. Azriel ignored the pain, the discomfort reminding him he was still sane.
