Azrian Harborne

Azrian is a quiet, steady presence in SouthPort, known for keeping the harbor running and for appearing in places most people don't expect. With the faint glow of an angler-fish's lure and a calm, unreadable expression, he carries an air of mystery that makes people unsure whether he's simply private or holding back with something deeper. Married to Zeke, Azzy balances his husband's larger-than-life energy with patience and subtle humor, often letting Zeke take the spotlight while he stays comfortably in the background.

Most locals know him as the maintenance worker who fixes things before anyone notices they were broken. Those who've spent extended time with him (especially Judas) know there's more beneath the surface. Azrian has a quiet intuition, a way of listening that makes people feel understood even when he says very little. He's not dramatic, flashy, or interested in attention, but he leaves an impression that lingers.

Azrian's wardrobe is simple and practical. He almost always wears durable blue overalls, patched from years of work and usually rulled down or clipped loose when he's off duty. Shirts are optional unless the weather demands it. He dresses for comfort and utility, not style, and he's long since stopped pretending otherwise.

His skin is a deep aquamarine that fades into a gray underbelly running from his chin down his torso. The gradients along his arms, back, and tail deepen in the low light, giving him a smooth understated palette that contrasts with his bioluminescent features. His eyes, lure, and fin edges glow in cyan-teal tones, bright enough to stand out but soft enough to not overwhelm.

Azzy isn't thin - years of taste-testing his own cooking and keeping snacks on hand have given him a rounder, softer build. He's not nearly as large as his husband, but he's comfortably heavyset in a way that suits his lifestyle. His weight isn't a spectacle; it's simply a part of who he is, shaped by long nights, good meals, and a habit of feeding others as much as himself.

Two short, ragged horn-like fins rise from his forehead, subtle enough not to dominate his silhouette but distinct enough to frame his face. They match his skin tone and bend naturally into his design.

Azzy keeps a quiet, steady presence that makes him easy to underestimate. He isn't loud or attention-seeking, and most people know him as reserved, thoughtful, and a little difficult to read. He doesn't open up quickly, preferring silence over small talk until he has something worth saying.

Once he relaxes, a warmer side comes through. He has a subtle teasing streak - subtle, dry, and perfectly timed. He enjoys small comforts like cooking, late-night walks, collecting odd maritime trinkets, and listening to old radio shows while he works. He shows care through actions rather than words, often in ways people don't notice until later.

Azrian avoids conflict and rarely raises his voice, but he isn't passive. When something matters to him, he holds firm. His patience makes him good at handling long hours, tedious tasks, and stubborn people. There's a grounding quality to him, a sense that he sees more than he lets on and chooses carefully what he shares.

Azzy's affection shows itself in ways that are impossible to mistake once you see them. He doesn't just enjoy Zeke's size; he actively embraces and feeds into it. Cooking meals WAY bigger than necessary, always making sure food is close by, slipping in extra portions without comment... These aren't accidents. He actively encourages Zeke to indulge, sometimes teasingly, sometimes with a quiet push, but always with the intent of seeing him satisfied and heavier than before.

What might look like simple spoiling from the outside is deliberate on Azzy's part. He takes pride in being the one who keeps Zeke full and then some, and in knowing his efforts show over time. It's not framed as a joke or a passing quirk, it's just how he loves.

For Azzy, there's a quiet satisfaction in this ritual. Watching Zeke soften, noticing shirts fit tighter, or seeing the way he sinks a little deeper into a chair, these are things Azzy quietly treasures. They're signs that his care is working, that his presence leaves a mark. It's a slow, ongoing process that he takes pride in, and it's a core part of how he expresses love. Each added pound feels like proof of his devotion: something visible, tangible, and deeply personal. Zeke himself doesn't always acknowledge the changes, but when he does, it's usually just a smirk. However, sometimes, it's a tug at his shirt to emphasize the stretch, a deliberate lean into Azzy that leaves no room to ignore it. Those moments always fluster him, though he hides it poorly, and Zeke, of course, knows exactly what he's doing.

Azrian grew up in SouthPort and spent most of his life near the harbor, where work was steady and quiet. He built a reputation as someone who could fix what others left broken, like machinery, infrastructure, or the odd problem nobody else wanted to deal with. He found comfort in late-night shifts, tide charts, and the quiet rhythm of maintenance work. While others saw harbor upkeep as thankless, Azzy valued the solitude and the freedom it gave him.

For years, he kept to himself. He wasn't unfriendly, but he deflected personal questions with humor or silence, keeping people at arm's length. That changed when he crossed paths with Zeke during a routine harbor patrol. Azzy had wandered into an off-limits dockyard to sketch under poor lighting and nearly earned himself a write-up. Instead, the awkward warning turned into a conversation that neither expected. Zeke's grounded presence and straightforward nature drew Azzy out of his shell in a way nobody else had. Small talk became shared coffee, then regular meetups, then something deeper. Their bond grew steadily, and marriage followed.

Azzy'd world didn't stay small. During one of his late night walks (the kind he took when the harbor was quiet and the air felt clean) he stumbled across a library he didn't quite remember being there. It wasn't on any map, and the building looked older than the street around it. Curiosity won out, and he stepped inside.

That's where he met Judas.

Most people would've been intimidated by a shadowy almost-eight-foot-tall dragon with glowing purple eyes standing alone in an abandoned library that seemed to exist in more places than one. Azzy wasn't. He treated Jude the same way he treated everyone else: calm, polite, and quietly observant. Jude expected fear; Azzy offered conversation. That was enough to start something.

Over time, Azrian started showing up at the library often enough that Judas stopped reacting to it. He'd fix a lantern, adjust a shelf, or just sit somewhere and read without bothering anyone. Judas didn't think of it as friendship at first, just someone who didn't disrupt the place, but Azzy's presence had a way of keeping the library quiet in a good way. No pressure, no expectations, no prophecy talk unless Jude brought it up. Eventually, they realized they talked more around Azzy than anyone else, even if half of it was just dry comments or small observations. It wasn't sentimental, it was just... easy.

Now settled with his husband, Azrian still works around the harbor, but his life is shaped as much by the people he's chosen by the work he does. He finds joy in the mundane: cooking meals, maintaining their home, and offering the kind of stability that helps Zeke slow down. And in the background, his connection with Jude remains one of the quiet pillars of his life, a friendship that matters more than most people realize.