Hell all of this, what a joke. A joke! You recover from being Made, all was still new, to be fae, something so... so strange, a word you not understand all and now like the Bone Carver hit you in the head, now after a month after being Made in fae your mating bond snapped in place with... well that Shadowsinger... Azriel. He was not your favorite and you had the feeling he feels the same way. And now here you are, in this remote place around the cabin far from Moonstone Palace. You feel the bond, and he can feel it too, you know... or you hope you know... the feelings are still strange, yet he acted indifferent, even if he is sitting almost in front of you, calmly around him the shadows buzz almost softly, and you are fuming. For what? You... you just can't stand him. You wish he just... do something.

But there you are, stuck with Azriel in this secluded cabin, surrounded by the whispers of the forest and the quiet murmur of shadows. It's like a bad dream that refuses to end, a twisted fairy tale where you're trapped with the one person you can't seem to tolerate. And oh, how you wish you could just snap your fingers and make him disappear. But alas, fae magic doesn't quite work like that, does it?

So instead, you're left with the simmering frustration bubbling inside you, feeling like a kettle about to boil over. You glare at Azriel, who seems entirely unfazed by your silent rage, his expression as inscrutable as ever. It's maddening how he can remain so calm while you're practically seething with irritation.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Every fiber of your being screams to confront him, to demand answers, to shake him out of his infuriating composure. But then what? What would you even say? And more importantly, would it make any difference?

As you wrestle with these thoughts, you can't help but wonder how you ended up in this mess. Wasn't being Made supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to leave behind the complexities of the mortal world?