โ ย ย โบ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ย ย , the SPYMASTER to the NIGHT COURT
Joined April 2025
- Tweets 3,819
- Following 140
- Followers 141
- Likes 3,056
42 Photos and videos
Pinned Tweet
16 Apr 2025
โ ย ย โบ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ย ย , the SPYMASTER to the NIGHT COURT
1
57
58
3,378
More than willing to do that.
แ
แ
แ
แ
And yet, here you areโโ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ธ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ to part from my side, despite not being able to stand me.
What does that say about you, I wonder.
แ
แ
แ
แ
25
That wasnโt โpity,โ though.
Especially to you. And your gifts of pity.
87
Azriel closed his eyes.
Exhaustion lived in every part of him. Not the kind that sleep could cure, nor the kind that a few days of rest could ease. This was older. Deeper. An eternal weariness woven into the very fabric of his soulโa constant ache that had long ago become part
โ โ โ โ โ
soft petals graze the tips of her fingers , floral scent swirls within her as she inhales a deep breath and merely exists within the surrounding earthiness โ there was something profoundly healing here , an atmosphere of life that could seep into the thickest of ยป
1
40
exhaustion. Thin red veins threaded through the whites, evidence of sleepless nights and too many battles fought without pause.
Yet he couldn't look away from her.
Never could.
"I'll heal," he whispered.
The words were rough with fatigue.
Quiet.
Fragile.
His gaze remained
1
18
fixed on her face, and after a moment, the faintest smile touched his lips.
"The cherry tree ripened."
His voice softened with wonder as he glanced toward the tree.
As though, despite everything, the sight of fruit hanging from its branches was still enough to amaze him.
15
Azriel had returned from a mission.
Still clad in his Illyrian leathers, Truth-Teller gripped in one hand, with other weapons strapped to his armor, he was covered in bloodโhis own and that of those he'd fought and killed, tortured.
He looked exhausted. Hollow.
So unbearably
โ โ โ โ โ โ
โ โ โ โ โ โ soft blades of green grass are a gentle caress against skin as elain sinks onto the ground , sweet earthiness filling her nostrils as hands cup the blossoming flowers and guide them close . thriving ; her garden was thriving .
โ โ โ โ โ โ
โ โ
1
78
angel bathed in sunlight, Elain knelt among the flowers, tending to her garden. Sweet earthiness. Gentle hands. Pure, thriving Life.
And Azriel, who had become so disgusted by Death that it turned his stomach, found himself soothed by Life.
As though she were a healing balm.
1
41
A restorative potion.
A breath of spring after an endless winter.
Without even realizing it, Azriel sank down onto the grass beside Elain and drew in a long, deep breath.
1
97