You had to be a special kind of fae to make it here.

What you saw…what you did. It was no one’s business but your own.

This underground world full of sin. Bodies that writhed together to the stream of music always pumping out of bricked-in clubs; the hushed pass of hand over hand in exchange for drugs; constant streams of liquor dulling and numbing whatever pain, whatever feelings you were trying to avoid, and for fae like Azriel…it was home.

Those mottled shadows told him things, showed him things, whispered names and places to him that he kept tucked away in his arsenal of information.

Here he could just be. Even in the darkened corners where the bass thundered in his chest and the neon of the lights blinded him, he thought it might be the only place he felt truly seen.

Tonight was one of those nights, on errand for the Night Court, meeting his network of spies and running leads, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to a sparkle out of the corner of his eye—a fae..maybe even high fae, on top of the podium, a shimmering pink dress on and glitter on the eyes, he watched as you swayed to music and screamed the words at the top of your lungs even if no one could hear you.

You met eyes from your respective places and he couldn’t help but stare.