well you just can’t shake the heavy weight of living.
torn from ashen flesh she is the creation of so
many that have tried before her king. torn from
angelic beings, torn from the light. she lives in
shadow, built from the bones of the lost, the
beauty of a morning star beneath her ivory skin.
then comes a day of solitude. she’s thinking,
anywhere but here. the ring is stolen from her
brothers drawer, with no intention of going far,
no further than prague, anywhere they had been
before. feet merge from a stolen forest that
reminds her so much of kingdoms past, burn
while she laughs in glee. there are none but
monsters here she is told, lurking like ghouls.
c o n t r o l
wow okay so does anyone want a starter
while i’m on this creative streak or
eyes marvelled upon each aspect of the school.
the students in their robes, flecks from green in
slytherin to red in her own house—- gryffindor.
which, as the weasley boys would say, the best
out of the four. hermione couldn’t disagree with
such. still she had believed the one house was as
IMPORTANT as the next, proving all of worth.
inquisitiveness etched in the arch of her brows
when facing the girl. it was an oddity to not be
familiar with a face at hogwarts. especially for
hermione who had been known for remembering
as remembering was what got herself GRADE A
marks. nonetheless, she smiled softly, features
colouring a slight. oh, was this making friends?
’ you most certainly did. ‘
these stone halls full of students in blue and gold
and green and red, clary has come to know as her
home. hogwarts would forever be home to her, a
better home to her than what was waiting for her
when the year was done. the gryffindor tower will be
more of a home to her than an estranged family.
through the coldness the blush on her cheeks
deepened a shade. her nose is immediatly buried
within the confines of the wollen scarf again, a left
hand bringing it up to cover up a little of her chin.
only to be lifted and placed back to its usual spot
when a kind smile forms again on her lips.
❛ i’m clary, by the way! could’ve sworn i’ve seen you
somewhere before. i’m terrible at putting names
to faces, but i have seen you somewhere before.
i know that much. ❜
“What? I thought
I looked NICE.”
❛ well, simon, i’m sorry to tell
you, but you’re lying to yourself. ❜
& she may or may not be on the verge
of a fit of laughter right this second.
[ [ there was something about the way she acted, the calmness
and serenity of such a darkness that made him feel almost
turned in his stomach. sebastian had thought that perhaps
the satisfaction of clary’s transformation would be a glow of
happiness and relief, yet there was a part of him that missed
the innocent girl he had grew to crave. as the book had been
pulled from his hands he couldn’t help but flicker his darkened
gaze back to his sisters. the emerald greens, he missed those
too. the silver brow furrowed as he dismissed the thoughts, the
weak human emotions that he had never truly known. it was the
corruption he couldn’t allow to take hold, not now when they
were so close to victory. sebastian’s eyes flickered away before
sighing, his fingers ruffling through his silver hair before allowing
them to fall neatly by his side. perhaps he was overreacting, she
of course had shown no signs of disloyalty the entire time they
had been together. his steps sounded as he grew closer to her,
lifting his hand to brush a lock of crimson from her face. ] ]
❝ A lot has changed, my sweet sister, but none more than ourselves.
I should not doubt you, but you must understand this. I can not
allow a woman to simply warm my bed without making sure it is
two that sleeps soundly. When this is all over it shall be easier,
on you as well as myself. ❞
❛ i do understand that. ❜
she just hates how he has to say it. it’s unexpected,
though there is nothing she wouldn’t do, her hands
come up from her sides, crossing themselves over
her chest. trust can only go so far, she supposes.
and her own brother still will have his doubts. clary
knows him too well to think otherwise. why does it
bother her so much? it shouldn’t, and she won’t let it.
it feels like weeks, then it feels like months, it’s all
adding up and clary knows that. the longer she is
here with her brother the longer she has to forget
her life before. and she is enjoying the fact that she
can at all. a small smile is welcomed on the corner
of her crimson lips, leaning into his touch. before it’s
lowered and she steps back, moving to where the
book was thrown away. picking it up and tearing out
the first few pages. distraction. a distraction.
that’s what she needs.
❛ i’ll be in my room. ❜
FLAMES have scorched his veins, yet again, tinging them with
an unearthly colour. molten gold. this had to be a result from
the emotions that stir, mixed with fury for sebastian’s creations,
sadness for their dead, and his heart pumping roughly as clary
remains unseen. he hopes it will persist that way, but hope has
dwindled for the angel boy, leaving him to pick up the pieces.
longsword kisses the throat of a dark embodiment. and, one.
two. three. it slits through and splatters him with a lacquer of
dreary shadows. he’s stained, but he’s alive. where his speed
is to thank for that — the more than average angelic blood —
cascades throughout him. his component has no advantage.
they’re hard to kill, like greater demons, yet still worse in several
aspects. the prominent one being that they possess the faces of
people he once knew. now lost underneath an influence of dark
blood, they ravage the shadowhunters and show no remorse in
doing so. they’re creatures of hell, the devil’s backbone. nothing
can stop sebastian’s army at a large —— but jace will stop him.
( sebastian will suffer. )
blood rains over the citadel, a clash of deep crimson and leaden
black. seraph blades clash against the average weapon. they are
outnumbered, and even with their angelic blades, they struggle
beneath the resilience of the endarkened. they are beyond hope.
jace can only save so many. however it does not help when the
dreaded draws near, causing him to drop his warrior guard when
clary makes an appearance herself. soulless eyes are beneath the
dusky moon, a thousand stars are infused with pitch-black ichor.
he has to look away as s he drives her weapon into bodies, soaked with
nephilim blood. pure nephilim blood. not tainted, just purely innocent.
it’s harsh to stomach, where the memory of her is slowly withering, and
she is seen for nothing but darkness. she’s fading away the authenticity
of clary fray. he blinks and there she is, covered in blood, replacing him
for sebastian. her BROTHER. jace covers a heave. ❝ don’t let them hoax
you. who they were, what they have been, it’s gone——- ❞ he shouts at
his fellow shadowhunters, and purposely peers at a particular redhead.
the darkness suits you well, my love. bring me war. still now
she shivers as her brothers words ring in her mind. still as she
cuts through these bodies of pure light, meeting every swing of
their swords with her own. a morning star burning through
what once was her kind. what was once the side she would
protect. her family from long, long ago. the ones she had loved.
bones break under her finger tips, forcing bent heads back to
stop the worthless tears and turn them to choke on their own
blood. the number are dwindling, she sees it. with the chaos
rising around, and the red ice beneath the soles of her feet.
there’s a noise behind her, of crunching snow, and clary whirls
just in time to feel the slice of the tip of a seraph blade down
her right cheek. there is one moment where she winces and
steps back, but her weapon is raised to block another blow,
sending the shadowhunter back. and she’s sneering as
the blade’s edge comes back down, splitting the body in two.
she smiles wide, baring her teeth. they’re winning. they’re
winning and jace can’t save them all. they’re winning, and clary
will have what she wants. he’s always been a good speaker, she
thinks. but this won’t get him far. the grief is too much. they are
all asking for the impossible. a life for the dead. all nephilim will
die before that can happen. the inevitable will come for them.
amid the ruins of a burning and bloodied citadel, bodies of the
dead and very much alive are in her hindsight. all around, and
yet she still manages to force her self through. the dark heart
of hers is rattling against her ribcage, lungs only breathing in
breaths intoxicated with ash and the smell of blood. steel and rust.
she hears nothing. only cries, shouts and her own heartbeat.
though there is an indelible silence from these endarkened
warriors. no remorse. clary is an animal among them. with
soulless eyes she sees gold. lighting only the smallest portion
with its dim illumination. veins of heavenly fire. fingers curl
around heosphoros, grip on the hilt whitening her knuckles.
that smile of hers comes back as she sees jace glance over.
second time, she’s counted. mustn’t get distracted, lightwood.
Well, I’ll do everything for you
You didn’t know?