Title: i will fear no evil but your rod and staff don't comfort me
Summary: And the fragile structure that had been holding him together, sheltering him from the ugliness of it all- the lies and half-truths, the hate, the fear- shattered, clattering around him in an endless array of jagged pieces.
the plot bunny reared its ugly head and spit this out.
set sometime during that night Jace spends in the Silent City (shamelessly ignoring the part when Valentine comes and all the brothers die). I have no idea if I'm stretching the Inquisitor's sadistic tendencies because I haven't finished the book, but so far, I think it fits.
And so.
Inhuman screams began to ricochet off the walls, cutting through the darkness, raking across his eardrums. And for one horrid moment, Jace froze, the agonized wails a backdrop to a single, almost palpable thought.
Clary.
Somewhere, a thin thread of coherence snapped and all reason fled him.
He frantically hurled his fist against the wall, pounding away at the unyielding surface, shouting her name for all he was worth. His right hand wrenched itself against its shackle violently as terror seized him in its pitiless grip, as panic clouded his vision and something distinctly like nausea burrowed its way into the pit of his stomach.
The screeches continued in an endless cacophony, rising in pitch and intensity then deteriorating into silence before picking up again as if they were a part of some song, undulating in between twisted melodies.
If he could just break free, if he just had his stele, if he could just get to her.
But he couldn't.
The litany of shrieks continued to echo, amplifying, multiplying. His heart raced in his chest, thrashing against his ribcage. A choked sob tore through him as he slid down the wall, the futility of the situation overcoming him. And then, in between the screams, he heard a word, in such a devastated, ravaged voice that he almost didn't recognize it.
His name.
She was calling his name.
And the fragile structure that had been holding him together, sheltering him from the ugliness of it all- the lies and half-truths, the hate, the fear- shattered, clattering around him in an endless array of jagged pieces.
He sunk to the floor, curling his knees to his chest and drawing in on himself, willing it to just stop.
And then he could hear Imogen's voice, dripping with venom, piercing the screams as remorselessly as a knife through his chest. "Do you have anything to say to me, Jonathan?"
Pitifully, he wrapped his arms around his head, trembling as sobs wracked his body, as he dissolved into whimpers, adding his own desperate sounds to the terrifying chorus. In the back of his mind he knew they couldn't really have Clary. She was at Luke's. Safe. Probably with that stupid mundane, but safe. But Imogen had fulfilled her promise.
Next time he saw her, he would keep his mouth shut.
fin.
ayyy. Poor Jace. D~:
(and in case it was unclear, Imogen is being quite dastardly in trying to get into Jace's head)
