Azriel relied on the light of the day to save him from the darkness. To keep him from the shadows and scars that haunted his nightmares.
Tahlia relied on the darkness to save her from the light. By keeping to the shadows, she can protect her future...
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If we never experience the chill of a dark winter,
It is very unlikely that we will ever cherish the warmth of a bright summer's day.
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Far into the horizon, the sun began to rise, radiating gold and somehow emanating a heavenly glow across the entirety of Velaris. Sparks of light danced off the Sidra and around the people of the night court. He watched from afar, from deep in the confines and darkness of his own room as the city slowly awoke with the sun, bursting into life along with the early light of morning. Clouds rolled over the mountains, not those dark grey heavy things that made him feel claustrophobic in the darkened days, but the light fluffy white that sparked that ounce of joy as they shimmered along with the snow capped hills in the distance.
The start of spring, Azriel realised with little to no satisfaction. Though he couldn't complain, it was hard to with the beauty that blossomed day by day as the season wore on. Flowers and trees alike bursting into a sudden bloom of pinks and blues and yellows and other arrays of dazzling colours he found almost hypnotising. It was quite pretty really, how people- people like Elain- could manipulate the season into something so beautiful.
Manipulate. A perfect word to associate something that linked the gentlness of spring to someone as down-right fucking unbearable as Tamlin. Though notably most of their court strayed from that line of thought more often than not these days. Recovery from the war had been difficult on everyone, and no one especially Feyre wanted to mention anything of the sort. It often brought trouble. Trouble and unnecessary guilt and arguments that just weren't typically warranted.
There was something so serene about waking up with the sun, the symbolism behind a day yet to begin. A reminder, Azriel supposed, that they had all lived, all survived. Azriel had woken up thanking the Cauldron almost every day even if it had almost been the cause of their downfall.
The cold bite of the fresh early morning whisked around his room through the crack in his window as he lay back on his bed, one arm tucked gently behind him, pillowing his head as he overlooked his city. His home. It was nice, peaceful, and brought that small slither of hope that awoke with the light of the day. But mostly because it was quiet.
And it was quiet because Cassian was a lazy brute that overslept a lot more often than was strictly necessary. The insufferable pair had both returned from the Steppes several nights ago and were perfectly content with driving each other- as well as everyone else in a fifty mile radius- absolutely crazy.
It was mornings like this that Azriel couldn't help but treasure the moments he spent alone with the rising sun. Cherished them. Let them drive away the nightmares of a cold dark basement that threatened to often drive him off the brink of sanity. It seemed to be the only thing that helped catch that breath that kept him tied to his life like a thin, invisible thread anchoring him to the world.
