#worldwalker

“And I don't want to steal your freedom, I don't wanna change your mind. I don't have to make you love me, I just wanna take your time. I don't wanna wreck your Friday, I ain't gonna waste my life. I don't have to take your heart, I just wanna take your time."

Take Your Time – Sam Hunt

Velaris, Night Court, Prythian

Everything was too bright for her eyes.

Sam, haggard-looking and definitely hungover, sat at the dining table with her eyes closed and a mug of hot coffee against her lips, inhaling its scent like it was her lifeline. The room wouldn't stop spinning or tilting, and the bright sunlight streaming through the sheer burgundy curtains only added to the pounding headache she woke up with. She was grateful to whoever left the glass of water and two pieces of buttered toast on her bedside table, but she would sell her left kidney for three Advils immediately.

It had only been a little over 24 hours since leaving the Day Court for the Night Court, but she wished the latter would live up to its name and go back to being nighttime. The only positive thing that came from this massive hangover was she didn't have the energy to think about all that she had gone through within the past day. The rescinding of her homeland, winnowing into Velaris, the city itself, the unfortunate meeting with Amren, and the midnight conversation with Azriel all seemed too much to think about in her miserable state.

Sam groaned as a sharp pain split her head nearly in two. There had to be something in this world that could ease her headache; it was a magical land, for Christ's sake.

"Good mor-oof. You look terrible." Lucien grimly stated as he entered the dining room a few minutes later. She had heard rustling and movement on the floor above, noting that someone else was awake but wasn't curious enough to find out who it was.

Sam, who still had her eyes closed, inhaled the coffee deeply. "I feel like I got hit by a bus."

"... I'm not sure what that is, but I will take your word for it," Lucien replied, making his way behind her to brew himself a cup of coffee. Even in different worlds, some morning routines stay the same. "Have you eaten?"

"I don't wanna talk about food righ' now," Sam mumbled as she slowly sipped from her cup, the hot liquid sending warmth throughout her body and slowly attempting to wake her up. Her soft slurps caused her head to remind her of its pounding.

Lucien stirred his coffee and sat down at the table across from her, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile that Sam still hadn't opened her eyes to see. "So, what did we learn?" His left arm draped itself over the back of the chair as he lounged, his right hand holding his mug.

She finally cracked open her eyes to glare at Lucien, who looked wide awake and energized for the day compared to her. The sunlight made his long red hair look like liquid fire, and Sam resisted the urge to shut her eyes again. "I don't need you to rub it in."

Lucien winked at her and took another sip. "Ah, yes, but it would be so nice to hear how right I was and how you didn't listen."

"I heard what you said." Sam snapped, closing her eyes again as the light seared through her head and burned her eyes. "I just…"

"Didn't listen."

Sam released a heavy, forced sigh and set her coffee down, opening her eyes to look at him again. She forced her eyes to remain open even as they watered from the room's brightness. "Fine, I didn't listen. I thought I knew better and didn't listen to the wise and noble Lucien. I'm sorry."

His eyebrows raised, tipping his mug to her with a smirk on his lips. "No need to apologize; I'm not the one suffering."

Sam growled at him, grabbing her coffee with a glare to keep smelling it, praying the scent continued to wake her up. He chuckled at her and picked a cinnamon croissant from the pastry dish between them. Everything hurt; her entire body was sore from staying in the same prone position she had fallen into bed at last night. Her hair hurt her scalp when she moved it, so brushing it was out of the question this morning. Instead, she had an uncanny resemblance to an electrocuted chicken.

She desperately needed a bath, but the energy and effort required to run the water were more than she was willing to give with a headache as bad as the one she was suffering from. She ended up sitting at the dining table, cradling a warm coffee mug between her heads, looking worse than she did when waking up in the forest. It was impressive, really, that she could outdo herself in that way.

She knew her brief peace with Lucien, if you could even call it that, had ended when heavy footsteps sounded from the staircase just outside the dining room. She pinched the bridge of her nose, already knowing who it was, and lowered her mug again. Would she ever be able to finish her coffee? Lucien was still smirking from his side of the table, sipping from his cup with a relaxed posture, seemingly thrilled at her suffering and incoming torment.

"And look at our little hungover human! Did you drink too much?" Cassian's obnoxious voice was akin to knives sliding down a chalkboard to Sam's delicate hearing.

Sam groaned, brushing her curly and frizzy hair away from her face. "You sound like a linebacker coming down those stairs." Sam had the fleeting thought that Cassian would make for a good center on a football team.

Cassian, not sure what a linebacker was, continued his thunderous entry into the room; Azriel was a few steps behind him but, thankfully, a lot quieter. "Harder time holding faerie wine than your human wine, huh, Sammi?"

Sam shot daggers at Azriel, who stared back at her blankly. "You were sworn to secrecy."

"I remember no such thing." He replied, taking a place along the wall, avoiding most of the sunlight as the shadows swarmed around him. Even in her hungover state, watching the shadows ebb and flow from him continued to amaze her.

Cassian ruffled Sam's hair as he passed by her, causing her to hiss in pain like a feral cat. "We'll have to go to Rita's one night and see how well you can hold our whiskey."

Sam's whole body twitched involuntarily as a memory of a rough night in Savannah raced through her mind. "I was arrested while drinking whiskey; I haven't had any since." That hangover haunted her throughout the years, the holding cell of Chatham County cold and barren.

"Arrested? Oh, do tell." Cassian grinned, sitting beside her, his wings flaring and shaking themselves out. Sam stayed still, forcing herself to get used to their existence on his back; a hazy memory of doing the same with Azriel last night helped ease her anxiety.

"It was St. Patrick's Day," Sam mumbled as she finished her coffee, the empty mug making a soft clink as she set it down. Her voice was still rough and low from sleep, not having been awake long enough. "I got inna fight."

St. Patrick's Day in Savannah was a huge deal, as it was one of the largest celebrations in the world. Savannah had the reputation of being absolutely wild during that time; alcohol, thousands of people, both tourists and locals alike, and the open container laws downtown not being heavily enforced were usually to blame. The celebration that day and that following weekend brought over half a million people to the city, all looking for a good time. Law enforcement crawled along the historic roads and alleyways, looking for troublesome party-goers to get off the streets. Every year, the number of arrests topped the previous record. It seemed like a right of passage in Savannah to be arrested during the St. Patrick's Day celebration, and Sam earned her green jail stripes and a mugshot to prove it.

"Who knew Sammi had some fire in her?" Cassian nudged her arm, grabbing a pastry from the middle of the table. "So, what happened?"

"A guy was talkin' shit. I was drunk, and he was blitzed," Sam rubbed her eyes, getting the crusties out of the corners, blinking to clear her vision. "Ended up on the pavement. The cop just happened to round the corner when I hit him." Sam sighed, looking at the wall behind Lucien's head. "Only spent the night in jail but had to pay hefty fines and sentenced to a year probation."

"Hard-seasoned criminal," Lucien said, swiping another pastry from the table.

"That was the first arrest."

"Cauldron, how many times have you been arrested?" Lucien asked while he tore a piece off of the croissant.

"Twice, once for simple assault and the other for assault and battery, but it was ruled as self-defense and cleared off my record." She leaned back against the chair, her headache still pounding away. "A firearm charge was dismissed because I have a license to carry. I had a lot of anger and wasn't sure what to do with it in my early twenties."

Cassian studied Sam's profile momentarily before looking at Azriel, who met his gaze. "We should hone your fighting skills. Use your time here while researching a way home for you."

Sam was silent momentarily; between her near-excruciating headache and the thought of exercise, her immediate response would have been a hard 'no.' She was in decent shape but nowhere near being considered 'fit.' She had a soft pudge on her stomach and thick thighs, a full chest, and loose skin on her upper arms; her lung capacity would likely benefit from the workouts due to former tobacco and drug usage, but her motivation to torture herself was subpar at best. Add in embarrassment at how out of shape she likely was, Sam was less than thrilled at the idea.

"We all start somewhere," Cassian said to her, his voice dropping softer as he watched her facial expressions change during her silent mental battle. "You would be training with Azriel and I, my mate and her two friends...we would start slow."

"Can I think about it? I'm in no shape to make decisions righ' now, not when all I want is for my head to explode and end my misery."

A shadow slithered along the table towards her, dodging sunbeams from the window behind Lucien. A small bottle of purple liquid deposited itself next to her hands, circling around her wrists and darting back towards Azriel, curling around his ear.

"It'll get rid of the headache." He said simply, nodding to the bottle.

"It won't turn me into a cat, will it?" The polyjuice potion reference would be lost to them, but it made Sam chuckle inwardly at her own joke.

"...I don't believe so..?"

"Are you trying to convince me or you?"

"If you don't want it—" Azriel started to send another shadow to retrieve the bottle, but Sam acted before he could.

She couldn't grab it fast enough, unscrewing the top and downing it within seconds. She didn't care what was in it, nor the less than pleasant taste of it; even if it did turn her into a cat, she'd deal with the tail afterward. She closed her eyes, feeling the effects of the mystery potion flow through her bloodstream. The liquid seemed to 'pop' her headache little by little like tiny bubbles, and with each 'pop,' her head felt lighter, the pounding receding into a dull throbbing until it was gone entirely.

"I love magic." Sam sighed dreamily, opening her eyes. Her face regained color, her cheeks stained a soft pink, her lips no longer pale and dull, and her eyes clearer.

"You can go take your bath now," Lucien waved his hand towards the door, hardly giving Sam time to bask in her usual, relieved state. "You smell like a bar."

"And your face could scare the stink off a skunk." Sam snapped back instantly, snatching the rest of his croissant from his plate. She took a massive bite and walked out of the dining room towards the stairs.

"What the hell is a skunk?" Lucien’s voice asked as she left.

A few hours later, after Sam had her desperately needed bath, she found herself in the middle of a field, not too far from the townhouse but outside the city limits. She closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh air under the bright blue sky, stretching out her neck as she welcomed the cool autumn air to caress her skin. As the days passed, winter approached, and you could smell it in the wind. Sam was looking forward to winter, never having seen snow before. Sam frowned; she should be more concerned about finding a way home, not seeing snow for the first time.

Cassian had been rambling on about her gun again, nearly obsessed with needing to know how it worked and if he could try it. After giving a brief lecture on what to do and what not to do with a loaded firearm, she relented. Firearms and firearm safety were something she was passionate about; Sam would be the first to admit she didn't know everything about them but was more than happy to share the knowledge that she did have. Dressing in a black shirt and matching leggings, she allowed Cassian and Azriel to lead her to a field, bypassing the city.

"Okay," Sam started, facing Cassian, who was excitedly waiting. "Azriel just put a target downwind, about 20 yards out. Your goal is to hit it, simple as that."

"Alright, that seems simple enough." Cassian reached for the firearm Sam pulled from her hip, but she stepped back, holding up a finger to make him wait.

"It's a little more complicated than just aiming and shooting," Sam replied, turning around to face the target as Azriel returned. "I'll go first so you can hear what it sounds like and watch the recoil in my upper body."

Cassian grinned, taking a step back and to the side to have a good view of Sam and the target. Azriel stayed beside him, both watching with intense curiosity as Sam switched the safety off and readied herself. A thrill of excitement ran through her blood as she checked the chamber and cocked the gun.

"Safety off, live and loaded." She called out, a habit drilled into her by the instructors at the gun range and Josh, who had been her shootin' buddy back home. A fleeting longing struck her at the thought of her friends, but she buried it back down where it was. Now was not the time to get distracted.

Sam stepped her right foot back, centering her body weight and bracing her stance. Her hands got into position on the pistol, her left hand cradling the right, which was gripping high on the backstrap. Her shoulders relaxed as she raised the firearm, and suddenly, she had tunnel vision as she marked the wooden target that Azriel had placed out in the spacious field.

Aiming the pistol this time felt much better than when she aimed it at Lucien. She was back in control and relaxed, not frightened or afraid for her life. She felt at ease, and that was something she had been craving. The sunlight reflected off the metal in her hands, the heaviness of the weapon a comfortable weight between her palms.

Taking a deep breath, her right pointer finger brushed along the trigger, squeezing it gently. The sound of a firearm discharging echoed throughout the field, and while Sam's body absorbed the recoil of the gun, the target had already been struck, the bullet having pierced the wood like it was made of butter. The ring of the shot had made Cassian and Azriel startle, their heads whipping down to the target when the sound of splitting wood followed seconds after.

Sam lowered the firearm and clicked on the safety as her ears rang. She faked a yawn, fingering her ear to ease the noise and pop her eardrum. She had barely a moment to recover before Cassian was on her, nearly bursting with excitement.

"Show me."

Sam grinned. Cassian's excitement was contagious. She remembers when she first got into shooting, having been introduced to paintball by her rambunctious group of friends in middle school. Once the air gun in her hands was fired for the first time, Sam's love for the weapon ignited, along with the dire respect that it demanded.

"Hold high on the backstrap, feel that? Is that comfortable? Okay," Sam stepped closer, rearranging his fingers along the pistol, tilting his wrists forward. "Now lock them like that, yeah." Cassian followed her instructions and allowed her to manipulate his hands and arms. "Step back, brace. Good. Now, when you aim, aim a little lower than you feel like you should. That recoil will absorb into your shoulder, and while I'm certain you could take it," She poked his muscles for emphasis, and he smirked at her. "I need you to be ready for it. So, aim low, and when you do, squeeze the trigger, but don't pull it. And remember to breathe."

Cassian nodded, looking down towards the target in the field. Sam's bullet had pierced above where the bullseye would have been if it was an actual target, and the wood had a split running up from the hole. It wasn't a bad shot; it was decent enough to get the job done. If it had been a person, it would have hit in the area of the stomach region, the wooden target Azriel placed not being that tall.

Sam stood by Azriel, watching Cassian align himself better, settling his weight between his wings and feet. Even though they didn't have weapons like she did back home, once that pistol was in Cassian's hands, it was clear that he was a soldier to his core. His entire presence shifted, and for a moment, she imagined him in camo greens, strapped to the nines with weapons and bullets, ready to be deployed for war. The image was so vivid that Sam had to shake her head to clear the vision.

The sound of the discharge echoed throughout the field again, and the bullet struck the target, clipping it in the middle near Sam's shot. Sam released a low whistle, impressed by the aim of a male who had never seen a gun, let alone shot one.

"Great shot, Cassian!" Sam exclaimed, giving him a round of applause. "Now click the safety on and lower the weapon. Amazing!"

Cassian did as she asked and handed the gun back to her. He stood taller, his confidence boosted, and his ego stroked. "That’s a hell of a weapon!"

Sam laughed, double-checking the gun and smiling at him. "Yes, and we have all different kinds of guns where I’m from."

"I'm going to convince Lucien to visit the Dawn Court so they can replicate those bullets. Or maybe even the weapon itself. They could put faebane in the bullets, giving us an advantage if war came. Maybe-"

While Cassian rambled through his excitement, Sam felt an unease settle in her stomach. Should she be the one to introduce this style of weapon into Prythian? Given the history of her home country, it was both good and bad that weapons like this existed. The advancement had helped win battles and wars, allowed the citizens to protect themselves, and allowed them to hunt for food and sport. However, and possibly the most glaringly obvious issue, when put into the wrong hands, this weapon was viewed as evil, causing mass destruction, carnage, and death. Good people, innocent people have lost their lives because the power was put into the wrong hands.

Sam could only imagine how gun laws in Prythian would be established and how citizens would be held accountable. Who would be allowed to carry? What laws would protect innocents? Who determines who gets a weapon? What would the requirements be? How long would they need training? Is training even required? Endless, complicated questions started filling her head, and she realized she didn't want that weight on her conscience. She would not be responsible for advancing Prythian's weapons of war. She would not be remembered as the human girl from another world, causing the destruction of this one. That would not be the legacy she left behind.

"Cass, perhaps we should pump the brakes on that," Sam said, interrupting his speech about, as Sam predicted, military use and strengthening of the armies of the Night Court. Perhaps it was already a losing battle; the knowledge had already been shared. If Rhys wanted the information bad enough, all he had to do was take it. "Maybe we can talk about it later, but...it might not be a good idea to let anyone beyond us know how this weapon works."

Cassian was quiet momentarily, and Sam could see the argument before he could voice it. The issue was that Sam understood where Cassian would be coming from. She could see both sides of the argument, and she agreed with points from either side, but the thought of innocent people in this world dying because of something she did turned her insides cold.

"She's right, Cass," Azriel's voice shook her out of her inner turmoil. "While it would not go against the bargain, it could lead us into a situation where it would."

"I only agreed to protect her to the best of my ability and not share information about her. You-"

Azriel interrupted him quickly, "And giving a Dawn Court alchemist access to otherworldly weapons to replicate would not be a wise decision, regardless of Sam's involvement. One question that would draw attention would be ‘Where did we get it?’."

Sam's mind wondered about the bargain tattoos that inked their skin. Did they match hers? The ink on her skin snaked its way down her spine, swirls of black intricately stretching along her right hip and thigh. Sam's new art merged beautifully with the colorful tattoos on her upper arms, her half sleeves blending seamlessly with her new back piece. She had yet to match her tattoo to anyone else and wondered if they all had the exact ink she did or pieces of it. Then again, she won't go up to every Inner Circle member and ask them to remove their shirt.

"We can discuss this with Rhys later; I'm sure he will see the situation as I do," Azriel concluded, turning his attention away from Cassian, who wanted to continue defending his point. Sam gave him a sympathetic smile; she agreed and disagreed with him. If she allowed the Night Court to do what they would with the replicated weapons, it would only be a matter of time before the other Courts got a hold of one and had an arsenal for themselves.

Technology would only advance from there, as would the carnage.

To break the tension, Sam asked Azriel, "Wanna try?" If these were the only rounds she would have during her stay here, she would at least have the two Illyrians know how to fire the weapon if needed. Sam couldn't think of why they would, but then again, the future was unknown, and the contracts stated multiple times about possible dangerous situations. Her mind returned to how excited Cassian had been moments before, and she wanted the same for Azriel. She wanted this to be a good memory to take back with her when she finally went home.

Azriel strode forward in an effortless glide, his shadows nowhere to be seen as the sun shone brightly. He stopped short in front of her, and for a moment, she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. His entire presence suddenly made her feel small, overwhelming her senses to the point of being rendered stupid. His wings were relaxed, flexing to soak in the afternoon sun as his tanned skin seemed to glow. She looked up at him, his hazel eyes intense as he stared back at her, and she almost forgot to breathe. Their heights were not as drastic as hers and Cassian's; Sam stood at 5'10, Azriel stood four inches taller, and Cassian towered over them at 6'5.

Clearing her throat, she broke the eye contact, returning her attention to the firearm. "Okay, so, here's the gun; hold high on the back strap." They pivoted as a unit while Cassian moved out of the way towards the sidelines. Sam's hands went to Azriel's, gently molding her hands along his scarred skin. Azriel said nothing as her fingers guided his hands into the correct position, and Sam said nothing about his scars or their rough texture. "Cant your wrists for-yup, perfect, now lock 'em. Good." His shadows swirled around her arms and waist as she stayed close to him, the sun ducking behind a cloud. The scent of night-chilled mist and cedar invaded her senses, and she nearly rolled her eyes at the deep, clean scent. Someone needed to put that scent into a candle immediately. "Now, move-" She tapped his right hip twice. "Move that leg back and brace."

She explained what she needed him to do, and he listened, all his attention entirely on her as she instructed him. He tore his eyes away from the target down the field, his eyes wandering over her face while she wasn't looking at him. She looked down, ensuring his feet were in the correct position while she continued talking him through the steps, and he took that opportunity to observe her.

He watched as her dark burgundy hair changed to a deep purple as the sunlight touched it, how the color made her green eyes turn even more vibrant than they already were, and how smooth her skin looked, and Azriel found himself committing every detail, every change, to his memory.

He wasn't sure where the need to look at her honestly came from. A voice in the back of his head urged him to drink her features in. He returned the small smile she gave him when she decided he was ready to shoot. The way her eyes lit up made something in his gut pull tight.

“And whenever you’re ready, fire!” Sam wandered back towards Cassian, who was watching him with intense concentration.

Azriel turned his attention back to the target, clicking the safety off as Sam had instructed, aimed slightly lower than he felt he should, and fired his shot. Sam’s head whipped to look downfield, a grin so large it was almost painful as her cheeks rounded out.

“Amazing! Bullseye!” Sam’s accent elongated ‘bullseye’ as she clapped her hands, bouncing on her feet in happiness. “Wonderful job, Az! Helluva shot!”

Azriel's wings shook at the praise and the use of his nickname. It was the first time she had used the shortened version of his name, and he found that he liked the sound of it coming from her. He clicked the safety back on and handed the weapon back to her, back strap first.

"I'm not sayin' that that was better than mine or Cassian's, but…" Sam gave him a little shrug that implied that it was precisely what she was saying but wouldn’t voice it. “I’m thoroughly impressed.”

"Give me another chance, and I'll blow Azriel's shot right out of the water!" Cassian exclaimed, but all Sam could do was laugh, joy flowing through her.

“Don’t even think about pulling out the rulers,” Sam hit Cassian in the arm with the back of her hand. “Put it away.”

Cass grumbled his disappointment, and Sam continued to assure him that his attempt was just as good as Azriel's. He claimed that both of their shots were better than hers and that she had been using firearms for years. That seemed to calm Cassian down, even though Azriel’s shadows whispered that she had lied to ease Cassian’s ego.

Azriel couldn't resist: "I believe we already know whose wingspan is bigger anyway, brother. There's no need for rulers now.”

Sam began coughing, choking on her own saliva, as Cassian began shouting at Azriel.

-x-

Once they returned to the townhouse, Sam found herself on the rooftop garden again. The evening had transitioned into the nighttime, and it was becoming a routine to go outside at night and review her day. She found comfort and peace on the roof, the illusion of being on top of the world. For the time being, she could only imagine what the view from the House of Wind would be like once she finally made it there. Even from her spot on the rooftop, the House of Wind was an enormous landmark jutting out from the mountainside and overlooking the city. Sam could see countless railings illuminated by the lights inside the House, and she had wondered briefly how exactly she would get up there.

She turned her attention to a notebook she had brought from her room, intending to start writing down notes on where she needed to begin researching, but found her mind completely blank. Her mind wasn't jumbled or running rampant; it wasn't filled with self-deprecating thoughts or self-doubt. Having the afternoon out of the townhouse to partake in something she enjoyed soothed her nerves like a balm, settling her anxiety and fear to a quiet rumble. She was thankful to Cassian and Azriel for the time they had given her and the time they had spent with her participating in a hobby of hers.

A small part felt a little guilty that she had enjoyed herself. That voice in the back of her head tried to crush her uplifted spirits by reminding her that she had only been in this world for a short time and didn't deserve to have fun. She should be finding her way home. She had just renounced her homeland less than 24 hours ago, and now she was out gallivanting with two Illyrian warriors? It was absurd.

Even though those thoughts and voices tried to penetrate her bubble of happiness, she defended herself against them. She deserved that small moment of fun after everything she had gone through. As fleeting as it was, she deserved to feel like herself again, no matter how short of a time. For that small moment, she felt like she had belonged. She wasn't just the human girl with a strange accent and massive, otherworldly problems that needed solving. No, for that moment, she was just Sam Damato, and they were just Azriel and Cassian, having a good time in each other's company. A sense of familiarity and comfort surrounded them as they exchanged halfhearted insults with each other, each of the three being the butt of a joke and all taking it in stride. Sam couldn't remember when she had laughed as hard as she did.

She looked up from the blank page of her notebook in time to see the rooftop door open. Cloaked in that fascinating black mist, Azriel emerged from the doorway and exited onto the roof. The soft glow from the faelights around the garden illuminated his face just enough that she could see he was already looking in her direction.

She smiled at the sight of him and waved at him from her spot at the table, "Come to join me again?"

Azriel glanced at the sprawling city stretching out before him for a moment, rehearsing the excuse he had come up with beforehand, but as Sam spoke, he felt the need to be honest with her instead. "I did." His excuse would have fallen flat anyway.

Sam motioned to the empty chair across from her, "Your chair awaits."

He went to where she was at the table, pulled the iron chair out, and sat down, trying not to be as awkward as he felt. His wings fanned out to give himself more space, and Sam watched with rapid attention. She had gotten comfortable, more or less, with being around their wings, but that didn't get her used to them by any means. They were still a strange but fascinating extension of his being, one that Sam was intrigued about. It wasn't considered normal where she was from, which made it all the more interesting to her.

Sam noticed his gaze on her notebook, his shadows swirling around her legs and feet, slowly climbing higher around her body. Their cool, gentle touch against her bare legs tickled her and glided along her skin as if they were assessing her. She didn't mind them; it was a part of who he was, and they seemed curious about her. They were harmless as far as she had witnessed, but she was sure they could do far more damage than she could imagine if needed.

"I was just trying to write down some research topics...ya know, where to start and whatnot," Sam answered the silent question. One shadow wrapping around her thigh had shot back towards Azriel's ear, curling around it, but his face betrayed no indication that he heard what it had said.

"How far have you gotten?"

"...I opened the notebook…"

Azriel's expression was momentarily blank before a small smile formed on his lips. "Well, I believe it's a start." He waved his hand and a soft, thin blanket formed within the black mass of his shadows. "It's chilly out here; your legs should be covered."

Sam gave him a grateful smile, accepting the blanket and covering herself with it. He was right; it was chilly outside, but she didn't find it within herself to run back inside and grab a cover. "I just can't seem to think of where to begin,” Sam replied, motioning back to the notebook as she adjusted the blanket. “I even thought about asking Rhys or Feyre to pull my memories for me, as uncomfortable as that is. The longer I think about what happened, the more my memories become mixed up, filling in blanks where facts should be.

"It wouldn't hurt to ask them; they would be more than willing to help. Rhys can also project your memories to those around him if need be," He paused at the expression on her face, watching her soak in the information. Azriel knew what weighing pros and cons looked like from the outside, and her expression was no different. It was a lot to ask, to risk, but he knew his High Lord and Lady and knew they could be trusted with such information. Rhys had already seen her memories, and he was sure Feyre had seen them too. "Just something to think about."

"Would you watch them?" Sam asked after another moment of silence. Her face was caught between hopeful and shyness. "My memories?"

Out of Mor, Lucien, Cassian, Amren, and himself, Azriel believed he should be the last to see her memories. He would have guessed she would want Lucien to witness her world as he was the one who helped her first in this one and brought her to safety. It was evident that they had a connection between them, one that would only grow as the days passed. Or perhaps Cassian, whom she seemed to have bonded close to in the short time they have been in each other's company. Cassian had already started joking with her and poking fun at her like an older sibling, their conversations and banter so easygoing and comfortable. Or Mor, as a female confidant, would see her life and understand it from a female's point of view. Her understanding of events could provide crucial insight. Or even Amren, despite the evident distaste for the human, research purposes triumphed over personal feelings.

Then there was him. He was nothing to Sam, a shadowy figure lurking in the background of every room and silent as the grave more often than not. Ominous and foreboding, he resigned himself to a life on the outside looking in, living on the narrowing ledge between contentment and depression. He didn't deserve much out of life, but he was satisfied with what he had, knowing what it had taken to get it. He had nothing to contribute to her life besides what he had agreed to, but she wanted him to see her memories.

Sam observed him, and she had the raw feeling of holding out her heart for him to either take and protect or shatter into pieces on the floor. She felt vulnerable as she waited for his response, a heavy feeling that she didn't like, and her nerves started to trigger her anxiety. Maybe it was asking for too much; they hardly knew each other. She opened her mouth to rescind the offer, unable to take the silence between them when he finally answered.

"If that is what you want, yes." He answered her quietly, his mind still silently spewing his self-hatred. That other voice told him that he wasn't good enough to see her memories and what she loved and lost. Why would she ever want him to see them? His shadows writhed as his mind continued to drag him further and further into the depths of his demoralizing thoughts.

"I want you to see it," she said softly, looking down at her hands. Azriel's acceptance of her offer caused her anxiety to relent, and a warmth spread through her chest. I want you to see my home, my life. We haven't known each other long, but I trust you, Azriel. I feel comfortable around you."

His mind seemed to go quiet, his shadows settling down as she spoke, and a flash of urgency shot through him. He didn't want her to stop talking, her words – her voice – like water on the flames of his wretched thoughts. "Tell me about it."

Sam's green eyes landed on him as her brow furrowed, and she cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Not about what led you here," Azriel clarified. "Tell me about your life there, what you enjoyed doing; tell me about you.”

Sam studied her notebook before deciding to close it; she would write down her notes when she either got to the House of Wind or whenever she could see Rhys or Feyre again to ask them to help her. Azriel's question left her with a blank. She knew who she was, but how do you explain it to someone else? It was akin to writing an 'About Me' section on a social media page or essay: daunting and slightly egotistical, never wanting to share shortcomings or weaknesses publicly.

But this was Azriel, someone Sam considered a friend, and this is exactly how you make friends, wasn't it? By giving yourself to someone else, piece by piece, and hoping they don’t hurt you in the future?

"Well, in the city, there was always something to do, some event was always happening, so you weren't often bored." Sam began, "I always enjoyed walking around downtown, learning more about its history. Um, I loved going to the beach." A smile started to form on her lips as she thought more about what to say to him. This was far more difficult than she had thought it was. "It wasn't an impressive beach by any means, just a strip of sand, but the sunsets are beautiful there."

Sam shifted in her seat, adjusting the blanket again. "There's a small National Park off of Skidaway Island," Her smile was nearly a shining star itself; it was so bright. "It's a seven-mile walking trail that I loved going to. The nature is beautiful, but you gotta time it righ' when goin' because the sand gnats will eat you up quick. I can't tell you how many times I've been ate up by those damn things."

She continued to talk about the museums and graveyards in Savannah, how old they were, how haunted they were, and the backstory of the city she had called home. She told him how massive container ships would travel down the Savannah River to the port just past that silver bridge he had seen a picture of. The more she talked, the more animated she got, and the more her accent slipped into that melodious southern drawl of hers. Words became elongated, her vowels became mixed, and she spoke slower as if savoring every word she said. Azriel had never heard an accent like it and was mesmerized by it.

"...but there were a lot of local restaurants and shops that I liked to pop into. I like to experience new foods and flavors; that’s where my love of cooking comes from.”

“You love to cook?” He asked, leaning back in the chair, filing away all the information she was giving away in his memory.

"Oh yeah! I make a mean chicken cordon bleu and fire biscuits and gravy; I'll have to make it for y’all one day." Sam grinned at him and crossed her legs, leaning her weight on the elbow that propped her up on the armrest. "You'll love it."

"I'm sure I will." He returned the smile even though he wasn’t sure exactly what those dishes were. "You'll have to make a lot; Cassian and I can put away some food."

"Can't be as bad as a high school football team," Sam leaned back to look at the night sky as the memory flashed through her mind. "I don't think I made so many cheeseburgers and chicken sandwiches in my entire life. Before comin’ here, I worked in a small restaurant in town, and football is a biiig thing in the South, so the team was traveling to another county to compete for a spot in the playoffs, and, lord have mercy, are teenage boys the equivalent to garbage trucks.” She laughed loudly with a hand on her stomach. “I made over 200 burgers that day to feed the entire team and coaching staff; I couldn't eat a burger for a month afterward.”

“What’s football?”

Sam's eyes grew wide before a wicked smile grew across her face. Azriel suppressed a shudder as a thrill ran through him at the sight of it. "It's the best sport out there, American Football, that is. There are different versions of 'football,' but in America, we like to be different from the rest of the world. We're pains in the ass, really.”

A talon scraped against the barrier of his mind, and he fought the sigh that threatened to escape him as Sam launched into her explanation of the sport. He was enjoying his time with her, sitting on the roof, forgetting their respective traumas, and allowing themselves to exist alongside each other. It had grown rare with his family since each brother had found their mates.

He lowered his mental shields enough for Rhys to slip through, “Az, where are you?”

"At the townhouse with Sam, " he mentally replied. He watched Sam slowly stop speaking when she noticed his tense posture, which he had tried to disguise.

"I need you and Cass to go to the Winter and Autumn border to intercept Eris. A message arrived at the Court of Nightmares demanding answers to the breach, and I would like to prevent him from reaching the Night Court."

“That didn’t take him long.”

"I'd be impressed if Sam had already settled in, but time is of the essence."

“Anything else?”

“Sooth his curiosity but give no further information.”

“Understood. We will depart here in 20 minutes.”

“Safe travels.”

Azriel felt Rhys leave his mind, and his mental barriers snapped back into place. Sam leaned forward against the table, “What is it?”

Azriel looked at her apologetically, deciding then and there to give her an answer. He didn't feel right leaving her in the dark when the matter concerned her and would likely continue to affect her. It was becoming a habit of his when he was with her. "Rhys needs Cass and I to go intercept someone. We will be leaving shortly."

“Oh,” Sam did her best to hide her disappointment at his leaving. “Well, I’ll make a note to explain football later.” She cracked a smile, but he could tell she had been enjoying their conversation as much as he had been.

“We will be back tomorrow afternoon or tomorrow evening," Azriel assured her, rising from his chair. Enjoy Velaris tomorrow, and take Lucien with you."

Sam turned to look at Velaris, at all the twinkling lights from below and the glistening reflection of the Sidra. She wanted to explore the city before going to the House, where she would be fully immersed in her research. Who knows when she would have another chance to do it? "That sounds like a good idea. Hopefully, Lucien won't mind taking me.”

Azriel turned to look at the city, and a sickening feeling erupted within him. He wanted to be the one to show her Velaris, to see her expression of wonder again as she experienced what the city had to offer her. Another thing lost to Lucien. "Visit the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. It's a market square near the townhouse with various spices and herbs. I think you would enjoy it."

Sam lit up at the idea, looked towards him, stood up with him, and grabbed her notebook. "Be safe, okay? I don't know what you'll have to do, but whatever it is, be safe."

Azriel nodded, holding out his hand so she could walk back inside the townhouse first. As they descended the stairs together, Az caught sight of the scars on his hands and felt the frown on his face. He knew she had seen them the night before, and today, she touched his hands during the afternoon target practice. He felt disgusted with himself, knowing that she had felt their roughness and that he hadn't worn his gloves to hide them. She hadn't said anything about them, but he feared what she would say when the story came around, highlighting the trauma of his childhood and, subsequently, who he became after it.

He stopped before her door without realizing he had walked her back to her room. She turned to him and smiled. "Thank you for trying to get to know me. I appreciate the effort."

“I find...I find you interesting.”

Sam snorted, “I don’t know why besides the obvious reason, but...either way, thank you. It means a lot to me that you’re doin’ it.”

Azriel felt his chest swell, his wings tucking in tightly. "I will see you tomorrow, Sam; get some rest."

“Thank you, Az. Be safe.” She opened her door and stepped inside, looking at him one last time before shutting the door quietly behind her.

He stood outside her door momentarily, contemplating telling Rhys that he and Cass would leave tomorrow morning instead, but he didn't have a good enough reason for the delay. Also, Eris would inquire about Sam; his job was to protect and keep her under the radar as much as possible. He sighed, turning to walk down the hall to the room he had taken up as his while at the townhouse. One of his shadows stayed behind, slipping underneath Sam's door and running along the edge of the room.

Cassian met him back on the roof ten minutes later, outfitted in his Illyrian leathers and a pack of supplies strapped between his wings. Resolving the situation should only take a day, but they had been sent out on enough missions that they knew a snag in the plan was likely, especially when Autumn Court was involved.

Azriel and Cassian launched into the sky, wings beating against the current as they found their altitude, the wind aiding them in their flight south. Sam watched from her window as the two winged males, black specks in the darkened night sky, grew smaller and smaller until they were invisible.