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wickedsrest-rp · 1 year

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WICKED’S REST CRYPTIDS

There are plenty of strange creatures that live in and around this seaside town, but some of them have been supposedly spotted enough by tourists and locals alike to make them famous. There's even a dedicated cryptid club. With this elevated awareness comes their very own personalized name, origin story, and maybe even a statue or two crafted in their likeness! And you can be sure that all the shops in town that cater to tourists will definitely have some cryptid merch for sale.

Wormy

Local to Harborside, Wormy is a massive serpentine sea monster that’s been spotted in and around the bay. You won’t usually catch a glimpse of it unless there’s a low fog hanging over the water: the creature seems to otherwise stay below the waves. That said, boat sonar will sometimes pick up something very large and very long without any other kind of visual, which is where most of the reports come from. From the few who claim to have seen it with their own eyes, they say it resembles a massive snake with an upward-curved snout, large fins, and barnacles attached to its hide. There’s also a rumor going around that Wormy is the one responsible for the missing boats that wander too close to Storm’s Eye Trench, but obviously there’s no proof of this.

Bigfeet

Yeah, you read that right. Wicked’s Rest has its very own version of sasquatch, the more appropriately-named Bigfeet. After all, Bigfoot makes no sense. It has two feet, doesn’t it? Some locals claim it’s the original sasquatch that got ripped off by someone who visited the town back in the early 1800’s, but there’s no way to be sure. Whichever one came first, one thing is certain: the tourists love this cryptid. While some sightings have been recorded coming out of Harmony Hill (which are probably a case of mistaken identity), the more likely habitat where Bigfeet can be spotted is, unsurprisingly, the Pines.

Giuseppe

The phrase “it’s like 90% legs” might not be something you expect to hear in the grocery store, but hear it you may: they’d be talking about Giuseppe, of course. A funny looking fella that’s rumored to live atop Serpent’s Flat, the creature is described by those that claim to see it from the viewing stations as tall, lanky, and… well, mostly made of legs. Just two, but the cryptid’s torso is evidently quite stout in comparison, and the distinct lack of arms makes the legs all the more starkly gigantic in comparison. The body is sort of an off-white color, another feature that makes it stand out against the blackened surface of the Flat. How did it get the name? Well, a local Italian restaurant owner claims that her family coined it decades ago when they built up a rapport with the creature after feeding it some meatballs in marinara. Maybe that’s why you’ll find the occasional plate of meaty treats placed around the edge of the Flat?

Gripwing

No cryptid bestiary would be complete without a terror of the skies, and for that Wicked’s Rest has Gripwing, who terrorizes the beach and seas around town. Gripwing is often said to be a giant butterfly, but no one can verify for sure due to its blazing speed as it soars the skies. However, Gripwing’s victims are distinct. They wash up on shore with their chest cavities sliced open with brutal incisions and the heart torn out. This has led to further rumors about blade-like antennae. Interestingly, some of these rumors seem to originate in a local siren colony with what seems like glee. If Gripwing were in actuality a large siren with extravagantly colored wings and ornate feathers, perhaps mistaking it for a butterfly would be understandable…

Moleman

Everybody knows about the mines. More than that, everybody knows to stay out of the mines. Collapsing tunnels are a real threat, but they’re not the only danger that lurks in the darkness. There is, of course, the Moleman—unimaginatively named by the board of tourism, it’s a creature that is said to dwell in the winding pathways of the immense underground system. Massive in stature and responsible for all the new tunnels that open up (and sometimes make sinkholes in people’s backyards), the Moleman is just that—half man, half mole. Grotesque in appearance, it’s no wonder he uses a disguise to walk among the normal townsfolk. People say that he’s tall with broad shoulders, scruffy and dirty, and perfectly blind. If you see someone like that in town, it may be best to avoid them.

Bessie

To nonlocals, Bessie is nothing more than a strange choice for a university mascot, but to the locals she’s so much more. Before records of Grotte de Fromage appeared, there were many reports of hearing cow-like wailing from up in the mountain peaks. In reality, Bessie does much resemble a highland cow with long red hair that flows in the wind and horns on her head that always appear to be bloodstained. Don’t worry, it’s not actually blood! Some strange supernatural molds can form in Wicked's Rest which could be the source of Bessie’s cheese cave creating powers. There are several stories attached to Bessie that you’re likely to hear from the college kids in town. Some will say her cries were for the loss of her calves and her hallucinogenic cheese was a form of protection. Others yet say this cow has much more devious plans. Why else would her horns be covered in blood? Aside from the fact they aren’t, but that isn’t nearly as fun a story to tell the freshman you’re trying to scare. While it is rare she ventures away from the depths of Grotte de Fromage, when she does come out of her cave, she eats the grass around her at an alarmingly fast speed for a cow. While mostly harmless, her size does pose a danger so approach with caution… and maybe don’t stand in her way when she’s eating if you happen to like your shoes or feet at all.

Gourdon

Gatlin Fields has their own curious cryptid that seems especially fond of the autumn festivities in that area, with a particular habit of showing up in the Maized and Confused attraction. It is a stout creature, no more than three feet tall, and seems to be covered in brownish-orange fur. Its favorite snacks are pumpkin seeds and mulled wine, the latter of which it can sometimes be seen clutching between its front paws as it trundles through the corn maze. It has a long, thick, furred tail that helps it stand upright when it has a warm beverage to carry around, though no one can say for sure where the heck it actually gets the wine from. Is someone feeding it? It’s possible—the creature seems friendly, if not desperately shy. Getting a picture of it is no easy task, though the Club Cryptid HQ claims to have gotten one on one of their trail cams. Gourdon can appear during other seasons as well, in both Gatlin Fields and the surrounding woods, though it might have a different sweet drink hugged to its chest.

Deepsnoots

Exclusively present in Jericho Burying Ground, Deepsnoots itself has never actually been seen. Many are familiar with the sight of a lump tunneling through the dirt underfoot, and some claim they’ve seen a strange appendage or mouth of sharp teeth, but none of these descriptions align with each other. What is known is that Deepsnoots moves quickly, and the rapid burrowing can scare off some of the hooligans that want to deface the headstones. Some think Deepsnoots is intentionally keeping the Grounds safe of crime, like some kind of guardian who ought to be celebrated, while others believe it’s motivated by the need to feed on old buried remains. No one has confirmed this. Or really anything. Deepsnoots might just be a regular mole.

Tendrilla

While Seven Peaks is steeped in Tendrilla reverence, even using a dedicated shrine atop each peak, there is little physical evidence that this entity exists. Within town there are many paintings and art pieces depicting her (she is typically thought of as feminine), and most seem to more or less agree on some key details. First, Tendrilla is huge, dwarfing her own shrines. Two, Tendrilla flies or hovers through the air in the same manner flying saucers are often depicted. Three, she emits a beautiful, ethereal glow, and can bathe an entire mountainside in her light. She is often associated with mushrooms due to the unique variety that grows up in Seven Peaks. Some say her tentacles sting, while others say they embrace with love. Some say she has sheet-like fins that blow in the breeze like sails, while others say she is streamlined and sleek. Whatever the case, Tendrilla inspires great devotion, and… well, there have been some huge, mysterious tentacles found in the mountains over the years.

Mothermoth

Sightings of Mothermoth are most frequently reported in Worm Row, especially in or near the Wormwoods. She’s suspected to be a species of giant silk moth, but most describe her as being about the size of a helicopter or small plane. The huge eye spots on her wings seem to blink. Under a full or nearly full moon, people say her wings take on a bright golden sheen, and some say they were blinded – even permanently – by the moonlight bouncing off them. This reflected light may account for the lack of good photos. Mothermoth’s wings shed golden powder-like scales, and these may have supernatural properties. No one knows anything about where she lays her eggs… or what hatches from them. Some supernatural scholars believe goggies, or a goggie variant, may be the larval stage of Mothermoth’s species. A small group of local entomologists have made it their life’s work to try and prove Mothermoth’s existence and catch her. They’re gonna need a bigger net.

Shaggarok

This ape-like figure has a profusely long coat of white hair that drags in a trail behind it, leaving markings in the dirt and snow. No one knows what it looks like underneath the coat, but people describe a pair of round, glowing eyes peering out from beneath it. Some describe the feeling of being followed before they saw Shaggarok. It has only been sighted in Seven Peaks, especially on snowy days and at high elevations. There are sporadic reports on each of the seven mountains. Most say Shaggarok approached them while they were in trouble in the mountains and freed them from being stuck or chased off an attacking beast. One report vividly describes Shaggarok sucking the hair off a monster after saving someone from it. In actuality, Shaggarok is likely an especially fluffy, white-coated kerashag that seems to be curious about people, though doesn’t like being seen. Even to those who suspect this to be the case, it’s up for interpretation whether that impacts its cryptid status.

The Lighthouse Keeper

You might hear those living along Wicked’s Rest’s coast whispering about “The Keeper”. This mysterious individual is said to haunt the lighthouses along the coastline, luring sailors to their deaths with its ghostly light. Some theorize the Keeper is the ghost of a former lighthouse keeper who drowned in a storm, now seeking to claim the lives of others who venture too close to its domain. Sightings of the Keeper often align with storms and shipwrecks, leading many to speculate that it can manipulate the sea. Despite its fearsome reputation, the Lighthouse Keeper is often depicted as a tragic figure by the locals, doomed to haunt the lighthouses for eternity. Some tales even suggest that it is trying to warn sailors of the dangers of the sea, in hopes of sparing them the same fate that befell it.

Caprifang

Described as a human-sized bipedal goat-like creature with huge fangs, it’s been said that Caprifang has been seen chasing down dangerous prey with immense speed before tackling it to the ground and sinking those uncharacteristic canines into its throat. Local aos sí fae seem to think Caprifang might just be a faun that’s gone mad from loneliness, but none of them have been able to coerce it into conversation long enough to find out. Most who claim to have spotted it say it lives up in the mountains, keeping to itself for the most part—until danger arises. In fact, the folks that believe the beast exists often feel better knowing it’s around the winding trails of the Peaks, for it seems to only have a taste for the blood of monsters, not people. Though if you’re a particularly malevolent sort, maybe you ought to watch out, too.

Zilch

Some say it’s the Dover Demon that has simply migrated north, curiously drawn to the impact crater out in Gatlin Fields. Others insist this is another creature entirely that only looks similar, but the one thing everyone can agree on is this: the thing that lurks around the crater is not from this world. It is an extraterrestrial, stranded on our planet either by choice or accident, doing its best to keep to itself. The humanoid has a very large head, rosy-tan skin, a lanky body, and most often scuttles around on all fours. Unlike the Dover Demon, however, the large glassy orbs that peer back at tourists from this creature’s head are not orange, but instead resemble the night sky—illuminated pinpricks of white light in an otherwise inky, blue/black backdrop. It is larger than its Massachusetts counterpart, standing a frightening seven feet tall when on its hind legs… or so they say. The most unnerving thing about this alien creature is the way folks claim that it spoke to them telepathically, screeching at them to leave the area inside their minds. Maybe it’s best to just stay away from the crater.

The Cleaver

Late at night on the main roads leading in and out of town, drivers might encounter a creature known as the Cleaver. If you’re wondering how it got this name, well, you needn’t wonder any longer—thought to be the victim of a hit-and-run accident, the Cleaver is a humanoid that is missing its lower half and can be seen dragging itself through the middle of the road by its hands, one of which is clutching a large scythe. If one swerves to miss it or even if they hit it dead on, the creature will clamber up onto the stopped vehicle, rip the driver free, and slice them in half with its weapon… just for sport. So if you’re ever driving somewhere and you see something laying in the middle of the road… just keep driving. Don’t stop, no matter what.

Thiccopotamus

At first glance, Thiccopatamus, the beast lovingly named by Wicked’s Rest Cryptid Club looks much like a normal hippopotamus aside from the strange orange glow around her. Add in the fact she’s about twice the size, it’s no wonder that the college kids call her “stupid thicc”. Thankfully, most of the club knows to observe her from afar with the cameras they set up around Wicked’s Rest’s State Park. Normal hippos are dangerous enough as is, but Thiccopotamus is even more so with her even larger stature and appetite. While her hippo cousins prefer vegetation and fruits around the river in the lands they’re native to, Thiccopatamus has been known to eat various types of meat, usually in the form of smaller, less fortunate creatures. Yeah, definitely keep your distance.

#lore #cryptids #wormy #bigfeet #giuseppe #gripwing #moleman #bessie #gourdon #deepsnoots #tendrilla #mothermoth #shaggarok #the lighthouse keeper #caprifang #zilch #the cleaver #thiccopotamus #town lore

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florencemtrash · 5 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter One

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Mentions of death and violence

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Layers of gosammer fabric rippled with movement as you smoothed the bodice of your dress. Warm sunlight flooded through the stained glass windows, getting trapped in the sheer material until you glowed shades of yellow and blue. You tugged the sleeves over your hands and took a deep breath.

It was a great honor to be invited to the Sun Palace, and for the Summer Solstice no less. The other Librarians of the 12th sector athenaeum - lovingly nicknamed The Alcove - had been absolutely astounded when the letter came addressed to you, hand delivered by pegasus. It was an honor. It was a great honor. You knew this. But your heart buzzed uncomfortably within your ribs like a bird desperate to take to the skies.

“Do I really frighten you that much?”

You swiveled your head to the side, finally acknowledging your High Lord after minutes of silence. Helion shot you a smile full of light and warmth. Light and warmth. Everything about Helion screamed it - from the sunburst crown on his head to the glow of his brown skin. He may as well have been carved from burnt amber. Helion’s very presence was enough to melt the hearts and open the legs of any fae - male or female. Even now you saw some of the female courtiers shooting you envious looks full of heat and longing. It made you cringe uncomfortably.

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the pearls woven into your hair settle at the base of your neck.

“No.” You said quickly, “I apologize, High Lord. It’s not you. I just… haven’t been around this many people before.”

“You take after your mother,” Helion said, that bright smile slipping into something fonder, more full of regret, “She was never one for parties either.”

You’d taken after your mother in just about everything - your eyes, your hair, the way you walked, even the way you took your coffee. Maybe if your mother had allowed you to be around Helion earlier on you would have learned his charm, absorbed his charisma like a sponge. As it was, the only thing you’d inherited from Helion was a stubborn power you couldn’t control.

You clasped your hands together behind your back, as if that would be enough to hide your talent. With the ability to absorb knowledge and memories through touch, Clairvoyants were incredibly rare and highly sought after in the Day Court. Helion had worked hard to conceal your power and your identity, so when you’d been given first pick of athenaeums following your apprenticeship, it was to no one’s surprise you’d chosen the one furthest from the city.

The Alcove. Your home. How you wished you were there now, nestled away in your attic apartment above the library. Comfortable. Alone.

Helion’s gaze softened as he regarded you. He shouldn’t have been as much of a stranger to you as he was. But he was no stranger to your work - always methodical, always precise, always handled with the same degree of love and attention that fae showed their children. You’d nearly died protecting The Alcove when Amarantha ransacked the Day Court libraries, smuggled books and knowledge across court lines during her reign.

Perhaps you had inherited some bold streak from Helion after all.

“How many times have I told you to call me Helion?”

“Six.” You said without hesitation.

“Of course you would remember such a thing,” He said, clicking his tongue, “Would you take a turn around the room with me?” He asked, extending a poor man’s olive branch, “I have guests I would like to introduce you to.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You’d planned to remain glued to this pillar until nightfall, half hidden by the quartet that was beginning to rush the tune in time to the next song. The spirited piece was coming just in time for champagne drunk party goers to make their way to the dance floor.

You sighed, “Must I?” The performance of it all - the dress, the hair, the party, the pearls - was more than you were used to, something orchestrated by Helion to finally get you to leave The Alcove. He would have dragged you to more parties if you weren’t so stubborn about ignoring non-business related correspondences. Hence the pegasus.

“Your High Lord commands it.” Helion said smugly and moved his arm out to the side, gesturing for you to leave your little bubble of safety. “And you may very well come to thank me.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine.” You waited a moment before saying, “Helion.” The casual name felt unfamiliar on my tongue.

He clapped his hands together, attracting the attention of one of the sons of Autumn. He shook his head of flames and scowled into his whiskey, handsome features twisting into something uglier.

“Finally!�� Helion’s voice boomed, “Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

You chased after his long strides, hoping to stay within the radius of space fae gave to a High Lord. And it worked. For some time. You bounced between various pockets of fae, dodging servers with platters of cheeses, wine, pastries, and more balanced on shoulders. Helion’s deep voice reverberated off the walls as he laughed and clapped people on their shoulders, whispered in their ears, and threw casual, flirtatious winks. He shielded you from the vipers and introduced you to his friends as a talented researcher instead of his bastard daughter. But despite your best efforts, someone still touched you, and your power reared its ugly head.

It happened when one of the Summer Court delegates, drunk and giggling, crashed into a female in a flurry of teal silk, who - like a domino - fell onto you. You landed on your knees, palms stinging from broken glass as flashes of memory and knowledge raced through your mind.

A diagram of the Day Court cities taken in secret from the 29th sector cartography athenaeum. A page ripped from one of Helion’s private collection tomes. A sketch of a still, black lake, and the being of death and destruction that resided there.

Koschei.

The name spilled onto your mind like ink in water, followed by horrible memories of slaughter and violence. Enough blood to turn the lake red.

The flood of information dulled and the female became nothing more than a willowy tower of tulle with ivory hair retreating into the crowds.

You gasped for breath, limbs shaking.

The air. It was too thin here. Too suffocating.

Koschei

“Are you alright?” A male asked. His deep, careful voice felt like the calm before a hurricane.

You jerked back from the scarred hands that reached for you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you scrambled to your feet. A horrible rip sounded through the now quiet ballroom as you tripped on your dress and tore the bottom layers. And if it couldn’t become more embarrassing, when you stood up you came face to face with none other than the Spymaster of the Night Court.

Devastatingly beautiful - were the first thoughts that came to mind. So beautiful in fact that he shook you from your visions and the horrible power attached to the lake. The edges of him flickered in and out of existence, clouded by shadows that fluttered about like smoke above a flame. You flinched when they came closer to you before being wrenched back on some invisible leash. He was as gorgeous as the rumors claimed, every inch of him seemingly carved out of black obsidion.

The flash of shame that crossed his hazel eyes quickly faded into nothing and he clasped his hands behind his back, cursing Cassian for convincing him to go without gloves tonight.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Helion neared closer to you, pointing to your bloody hands. But the pain was nothing. You thought your heart might burst in your chest from the nerves. The more you thought about your splattered remains on the crisp marble tiles, the worse you felt.

The other members of the Night Court looked on with concern. You recognized the other Illyrian warrior - The Lord of Bloodshed he was called. His wings were partially extended, shielding you from the worst of the crowd. And the High Lord and High Lady needed no introduction, decked out in their slim-cut robes and dress. The silvery embroidery reminded you of the stars in the night sky you gazed at when you couldn’t fall asleep and the rest of the Day Court denizens had long since snuffed out their lights. There was a dangerous beauty that wrapped around the group as tightly as the Spymaster’s shadows clung to his body. And you’d just embarrassed the High Lord of the Day Court - your father - in front of them.

Azriel stepped back, reigning in his shadows despite their many desperate protests, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to-”

But you ignored his words, gathered up your skirts, and ran towards the palace gardens, leaving nothing behind but a thin trail of blood and silk, the scent of vanilla, and a brooding, heart-broken Shadowsinger.

Heavy air mingled with copious amounts of perfume, gave way to crisp clarity. The sun was just beginning to dip towards the horizon, like two lovers whispering in each other’s ears as you sprinted down the stairs past two drunk Peregryn soldiers half-hidden behind a rosebush. Their tawny feathers dipped in and out from behind the leaves like ocean waves.

A child’s doll half-buried in ash. The ring of electricity in the air and the metallic, buzzing stench of blood and rot in your nose. Suffocating. Suffocating.

It was terrible. Worse than any memory you’d slipped into before.

“Y/n!”

Koschei.

Everyone had experienced horror under Amarantha’s rule and during the war against Hybern. You’d been subjected to it too many times to count. Every brush of skin, every well-meaning touch from someone else had been a cruelty.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake?

So why did this knowledge feel so different?

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!!

“Y/n! Stop!” Hellion’s robes billowed out behind him like sun rays, dazzling brighter than gold.

What’s buried beneath the lake?

You didn’t realize you were murmuring the words until Helion gripped you by the shoulders and spun you around. You were brought back by more comforting knowledge - Helion’s memories. Memories of you as a babe, chubby legs wobbling beneath you as you took your first steps into your mother’s waiting arms. A flood of pride entering his chest that felt more like sadness than anything else.

“Y/n!” He shook you again.

He has a room made up for you in the Sun Palace. He hides all the birthday gifts there that he planned to give to you, but never did. You are one of his greatest regrets.

You blinked rapidly, clearing out your thoughts and shoving the High Lord back with all your might. You didn’t need this right now. You didn’t need two hundred years of fatherly guilt to catch up to you. To the both of you. Not tonight. Not ever.

Without another word you winnowed away.

__________

“I’m sorry about that,” Helion said, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his hands together.

He was grateful the party had returned to its previous rhythms in his absence, but Rhysand took note of the discomfort ladeled upon his shoulders, the hints of regret in his eyes. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with.

The sun continued to slip behind the peaks of the mountains, changing the temperature of the room as the ivory and gold-plated walls began to take on a warmer shade.

“Y/n is not used to such spaces.” He explained, “I should have done more to prepare her for tonight.”

Rhysand waved off the apology. “There’s no need for apologies, Helion.”

“I do hope she’s ok.” Feyre said. With a snap of Helion’s fingers the blood had been wiped from the floor along with the spilled wine and broken glass. “Her hands-”

Azriel stiffened, his arms suddenly hidden from view by the shadows that wound up his arms. Feyre quickly changed the topic. “This Y/n, is she the Librarian you’ve told us so much about?”

Helion’s smile was a prideful one, “The one and only.” He lowered his voice, careful to shield his words from any curious ears with a faint blanket of magic, “I would love to claim the credit for helping with your last pregnancy, but in truth it was all Y/n.”

Feyre blinked in surprise. Her second pregnancy - although much better than the first - had still been a struggle. Rhysand had reached out to Helion in desperation, hoping once again for a safer method of birthing their winged-daughter. After spending months on end combing through the deepest depths of the oldest Day Court libraries, she’d delivered to them a text on cesarean sections. The tradition was a human one, and had been considered too primitive for fae, but with Feyre’s success Madja was reevaluating its usefulness. The High Lord and High Lady had much to thank you for when it came to little Velaria.

Cassian raised his brows and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that teased his lips. For such a timid bookworm you’d saved them a great deal of trouble. All at once that sense of pride for a female he didn’t even know fell away. You’d looked at him with such… fear. Flinched away from his touch like you knew exactly the kind of monster he was when all he’d wanted to do was help you.

“We’ll have to thank her personally then.” Rhysand said.

He raised Feyre’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm and looking at her like the love-sick male that he was. He still had nightmares about Nyx’s birth - how pale Feyre had become, the stench of blood in the air, and Nyx’s tiny, motionless body. He was ready to offer you a mountain of gold for preventing such a thing from happening again.

Azriel lowered his gaze, overwhelmed by the look that passed between the two mates. It felt like an intrusion to be standing in front of them. It was hard to see his brother and Feyre so openly affectionate with one another and not feel slivers of envy enter his heart. Cassian would have similarly been glued to Nesta’s side if she’d accepted the invitation, and although Mor was reluctant to venture out into the public world of courtiers with Emerie, she would have made it clear that she was taken. It meant that Azriel was often left to stand alone at events like this, gracefully rejecting the advances of males and females who hoped to lure the mysterious Shadowsinger into their beds. He’d been close to joining you in your solitude when Helion had charmed and whisked you away.

Azriel shifted his attention to the quartet, specifically to the little alcove to the left of the stage where he’d first noticed you. You’d stood there so quiet and observant, politely declining any male who offered you food or drinks or a dance. And there was no confusion as to why. You’d looked breathtaking in a pearly gown that clung to you like wisps of fog over the Illyrian mountaintops.

“After the party I’ll take you to her apartment. Allow you all to properly introduce yourselves.” Helion said in a burst of brilliance.

Cassian prodded Azriel’s ribs, a knowing look in his eyes as he watched the now visibly uncomfortable Shadowsinger.

But if Helion noticed, he didn’t care. If there was any collection of fae with the power to break you out of your shell, it was them.

“But until then! We dance! Come now Cassian, dance with me.”

Cassian snorted as Helion clasped a muscular arm around his shoulders and heaved him over to the dance floor where fae were already congregated in a tangle of limbs and wine. Feyre and Rhysand joined soon after, the High Lady throwing back an apologetic smile as she joined the crowd with her mate and Azriel was left to stand alone once again.

Next Chapter ->

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Author's note:

I have too many thoughts and ideas and got sucked into writing this one. Also, I wanted a nice Azriel fic to follow up Flame, Shadow, Beast so... enjoy!

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x day court reader #azriel x day court librarian #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #the day court #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver

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