Cauldron - Blog Posts
i think i need more dark azriel. i think i need more irritable, sleep deprived, angry azriel. azriel whose hands shake and you don’t know why, you don’t if it’s stress or anxiety or a deep sated fury he can’t stifle anymore. azriel whose chest rumbles with growls and hisses he is too tired to stifle. bitter azriel. disillusioned azriel. azriel who is too disgusted by everything, by those around and by himself, to play nice anymore. azriel who doesn’t eat, doesn’t drink anymore because he is so….so lost to his ever increasingly dark thoughts that he just…forgets to eat and drink. azriel who can’t sleep—not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t, because his shadows have grown darker and needier over the years, wrapping around him and not letting go, sticking to his skin like tar and wriggling in all his thoughts, tainting them, staining them. and azriel lets them, because of course he does, he and the shadows are one, after all, aren’t they? he cares for them. he craves them. he doesn’t mind all that much that they become the only thing he cares about, because the shadows are right. he should be angry. he should be bitter. no one understands him, not really, but the shadows do. they do. and so he spends all his nights awake with them, listening to their whispers, letting them nestle deeper inside of him, until that line he’s always been so aware of, the one that has always separated him from them begins to blur. he doesn’t care. he doesn’t care. and the shadows don’t care very much, either, rather they are almost…happy with this turn of events. and the happiness is a muted thing of course, they cannot be happy, but azriel’s closeness grants them more freedom, and so they begin to roam. they are curious by nature. they like to hoard things. they like to seep and to stain and to steal the light from all their encounter, greedy things that they are.
and so it’s natural that they fixate on eris. eris is bright. eris is warm. eris is as fickle as the flames that play at his fingertips and azriel’s shadows taunt their other half with snippets of dreams and memories they steal from eris; scents and flavours that make saliva pool under azriel’s tongue. he dislikes it at first, of course he does, but the shadows burrow deep inside of him and those snippets of eris that they hoard become azriel’s own secret treasure. and his sanity begins to ravel, obviously. his anger grows, the trembling in his hands worsens. and he can’t blame it on the shadows, because he is the shadows—and so he blames it on eris, because that is easier and sparks an aching, burning hunger in azriel that is better than the hatred, than the numbness that it brings after it spills out of him in violence.
azriel doesn’t stop the obsession when it comes. doesn’t stop the anger, the jealously, the bone deep urge that grows in him to take eris and peel him open, layer by layer, rib by rib; to peer inside of him and learn what his heart tastes like when he sinks his teeth into it. he doesn’t stop it. he doesn’t stop it.
His name is Cauldron!!!
He was found by Lucky in an old and very creepy abandoned warehouse inside of an old Cauldron.
So Lucky took him home and boom. They became really close [ of course not immediately ] but now he is her Familiar :3
Something I’ve only occasionally seen mentioned is how Cauldron capes still have a degree of irony between their power and their trauma
Take Coil. While moments away from being rescued from Nilbog’s monsters, he is faced with a split-second choice: to kill his superior officer or to not. He didn’t know which was the right call, whether it was possible for them both to survive or whether letting his superior live would have doomed them both. And so, he made his choice, and was left to deal with the consequences of it. And then he drinks a vial and is given the ability to delay the making of any such decisions, until the consequences were known.
Or Battery. She wants powers to take down Madcap, and gets powers that operate similarly to his but perform better. Except, of course, only for a handful of moments, leaving her ultimately worse off than him. She loses to him 7 times, and only wins on the 8th because Legend is there
"Potion loading..."
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stay with me pt 4
<azriel shadowsinger x OFC>
part one, part two, part three, part five
warnings: ANGST, graphic description injuries
✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖°
Something was wrong. Azriel didn’t know what, but he could no longer feel Ophelia as strongly on the other side of the bond. Her presence was just a flicker of energy, like a spark that refused to light.
“We’re moving in. Now.” He quietly growled.
Mor, Cassian, and Nesta had all deliberately disobeyed Rhysands instructions to not enter the Autumn Court territory without his permission. They would all surely pay for it.
But at this moment, he didn’t care what Rhysands punishment would be. He could cut off Azriels wings, set his hands alight, and throw him into the Sidra and he would take it. As long as he got Ophelia back. He was beyond grateful that his friends were risking their own lives and Rhysands wrath to find her too.
His shadows cast the corridor in front of them into darkness, snuffing out the fae lights lining the walls. They moved silently, as a unit. Quickly and quietly taking out any guards that they came across. What was more blood on Azriels hands? As far as he was concerned they were all complicit in this crime.
Gaining access to the Forest Palace wasn’t easy. It had taken them entirely too long. They had to wait for changing of the guard and had to slaughter their way through just to get in. It was messy and harsh, but they did it all without raising alarm.
Azriel led them through twisting and turning hallways, going farther and farther down into the lower levels. He didn’t know where he was going, it was just a feeling. He could feel that tug at the bond growing tighter and further down they went.
None of them questioned him, and thank the Mother for that. He wasn’t sure how he would respond. They all were calm and quiet around him since departing from Velaris, as if a single word would set him off.
He supposed it would. After departing the River House, he had flown out into the forest and taken out several acres of trees with his siphons before collapsing. He had been trembling, barely containing the anguish and rage that was crawling under his skin. It was nightfall before Cassian found him, telling him that they were leaving to find her.
Suddenly, the feeling in his chest exploded into a frenzying warmth, spreading across his body. Azriel halted in front of a small, dingy cell, and his friends stopped at his heals.
“What is it?” Mor whispered.
The metallic scent of blood was so overpowering that it almost masked hers. Almost.
He would know that combination of scent anywhere. Jasmine, lavender, and chamomile. With just a hint of lemon. Before it had calmed his wildest nerves. Now, it ramped them up, dreading what he would find in there.
In two strides, he was at the door. He grasped the lock on the cell and the faint blue light of his siphons illuminated the space. He barely heard the metal hit the ground as he flung the door open and rushed in.
What he saw would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Ophelia was slumped against the wall, hands chained above her head. Small, precise cuts littered her mostly naked body. Deep burn scars around her neck, wrists and ankles. The only thing that covered her was a red see-through chemise. No. The chemise was white. It was stained red. With her blood.
And Azriels heart stopped beating at the sight of the dagger embedded to the hilt in Ophelia’s side.
“Cauldron-” Cassian gasped, coming to stand beside him.
“Help me.” His voice was tight, despair laced in every word. Azriels eyes stung with unshed tears. No, he couldn’t do that. Not here, not now.
If she didn’t make it-
Cassian braced Ophelia up, mindful of her wounds, as Azriel broke the chains around her wrists. He stooped down and took her small broken form from Cassians arms, careful of the dagger. A soft, broken whimper came from the bloody mass that was Ophelia. It shattered his heart even further.
But she was alive, she was still alive.
“We have to get her back to Velaris.” His voice was raw, full of the promise of death and bone deep despair.
“Winnowing could move the dagger around.” Cassian responded quietly, looking down at her.
“We could take her to the Winter Court-” Mor started.
“No.” Azriel snarled. “She needs to be home, not in some frozen waste land.”
“But the risk-”
“I know the fucking risk!” He was starting to panic now. It was rising to the surface, the pressure building and building against his too tight skin.
“Whatever the decision, it needs to be made now. We have company.” Nesta hissed from the front of the cell.
“Go to them. I’ll meet you back at the River House.”
His shadows swirled around them, Cassian disappeared from sight, his brothers eyes full of sadness and quiet rage. He knew he would make them pay for what they did.
In the cold emptiness, he brought Ophelia closer to him. Praying to the Mother that she would make this, she had to make this. If Azriel needed anything in his life to go right, it was now.
Azriel swore to the Mother and to the Cauldron that when she had recovered, he would tell her everything. About his messy emotions, the feeling of how unworthy he was to her, and that they were mates. He was hers.
But oh, the Mother was cruel.
His feet hit the solid ground just outside the River House, the world swimming back into focus. Panting, he looked down at Ophelia.
His mate.
She almost looked like she was sleeping, if it wasn’t for the agonizing pain he felt on the other side of the bond. It was so intense that he momentarily swayed before reality gripped him by the throat. The dagger was no longer there. It laid several feet away in the grass.
The panic he had been barely keeping at bay finally bubbled over.
Blood was pouring from the wound, fast. Too fast. Gasping, he went to his knees, laying her in the damp morning grass. His scarred hands pressed into her side attempting to staunch the bleed, but it was no use. Blood seeped past his fingers, coating his hands.
Rhys. Rhys I need you.
“Phia? Phia, I need you to open your eyes.” He whispered.
“It hurts.” She whimpered. The pain he heard from her snapped something deep and vital in his head.
“I know, I know sweetheart.” Azriels cheeks were wet with the tears he had been holding back for weeks. No- years.
“Azriel?” Her eyes fluttered open, squinting up at him. “You’re here.” She sounded so relieved, he wondered if she thought this was a dream.
“Yes, Phia. I’m here with you. Now stay with me, help is coming,” He sobbed.
Rhysand!
She muttered incoherently, and it wasn’t til later til Azriel would realize what she was saying.
Stay with me.
The familiar scent of Cassian, Mor, and Nesta invaded his senses, momentarily taking over the smell of blood. He heard one of them cry out, felt their grief slam into him. But he couldn’t look away.
He whispered small encouragements to her, begging and pleading with Rhys in his head to fucking hurry.
Almost there.
“He’s almost here Phia. Just hang on.” His eyes swept down her body, examining the wound. It was ghastly, deep and jagged with infection just starting to set in. Mother, how long had that been in there?
He looked back up to her face and his gut twisted. Her eyes were shut, her lips unmoving. “Hey, hey! Do not shut your eyes. Please,” A painful sobbed ripped from the depths of Azriels chest. “Please open your eyes!”
“So tired.” She whispered, struggling to open her eye lids. “Az, I’m so tired.”
Hands suddenly replaced where Azriels were. Someone was talking, shouting at the others but he wasn’t sure who it was, and he didn’t care. Maybe it was Rhysand, or was it Feyre?
Moving carefully, he cradled her head in his lap. The back of her scalp was sticky with blood, the entire ground around them was drenched in it.
“Stay. Stay here with me.” He whispered to her, smoothing her hair away from her sweaty and sallow forehead.
“You’re my mate.” Azriel choked out in broken sobs. “Ophelia you’re my mate.”
She inhaled to speak, but her chest stilled
The bond went silent.
And Azriel screamed.
chicken-footed cauldron
Fennekin seeks an audience with the slumbering one.