Okay, so this is my first full-length fanfiction story. I've been very hesitant about posting it, but I've had a few positive reviews on my one-shots, and also a good bit of encouragement from others – especially rippingbutterflywings…YOU'RE THE BEST! Thanks for beta'ing and being my sounding board.
So, I'm not sure exactly how long this will end up being, but I intend on posting a chapter a week (granted, I continue to find inspiration on a regular basis). Please leave reviews! They will help in motivating and will also let me know if there is actual interest in my story.
Warning: Rated M for language and sexual themes.
Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns all of The Mortal Instruments characters. I only own this story idea, so please do not steal/copy/infringe…etc…etc…my ideas. Thank you.
OBLIVION
Are you going to age with grace? Are you going to age without mistakes?
Are you going to age with grace, only to wake and hide your face?
When oblivion is calling out your name you always take it further than I ever can.
(Oblivion – Bastille)
Chapter One
Cause when she sings I hear a symphony
And I'm swallowed in sound as it echoes through me.
I'm renewed, oh how I feel alive and through autumn's advancing.
We'll stay young, go dancing.
(Stay Young, Go Dancing – Death Cab For Cutie)
The noise was deafening. To anyone else, it would have been unbearable; they would have covered their ears in a defensive reaction to block it out or mute it, at least. But to her…it was the most beautiful sound in the world. It wasn't their incessant chants of her name, or their obscure declarations of love, or even their endless praise and adoration. No. It was the simple and unhindered appreciation for the thing that meant the most to her.
The one thing that no one could take away.
The one thing that made her who she was.
She stood behind the heavy curtain separating her from them and listened for what felt like an eternity. The noise seemed to never dull or lose fervor, only grow in its intensity. The hint of a smile playing on her raspberry tinted lips was unmistakable, as was the twinkle in her darkly lined jade eyes. The sweat still covered her petite frame in a thin, grimy layer, and her usually wild and unruly auburn curls now lay matted to her face and back, weighted down by the heavy moisture.
"They love you," a masculine voice spoke behind her.
Her smile grew in response as she turned to face her bandmate. "They love my music. It's the four of you that they come to see."
He shook his head, the light catching his silver hair, and met her look with intuitive silver eyes and a loving grin.
"You know that's not true, Clary. They come to see you. You're the one who inspires them. We're just the eye candy." He winked at her and chuckled.
Clary laughed. Jem always knew how to make her laugh.
"Maybe you're right."
"Of course I am. I'm always right."
Clary rolled her eyes and playfully shoved her friend away. Jem's chuckle grew into a laugh and he reached out and pulled her into his side, tucking his strong arm around her delicate waist and placing a chaste kiss to the top of her head.
"Come on," he said as he glanced back at the lights still flashing over the stage. "We have an after party to get to and a celebration in my honor."
"Don't remind me," Clary mumbled as she allowed him to lead her away from the stage.
Tonight you're perfect,
I wanna fall in love with the stars in your eyes.
Tonight you're perfect,
I wanna fall in love but only for the night.
(Tonight You're Perfect – New Politics)
"Hell yeah! This is fucking awesome!"
"Seb, do you always have to be so vulgar?"
Clarissa Morgenstern glared at her drummer, who was staring into The Pandemonium Club with a large goofy grin plastered across his angular face. His broad shoulders were stretching the thin material of his white shirt and his midnight hair was nearly obscuring his obsidian eyes from 'scoping out the local fare', as he always put it.
Sebastian looked over at her smirk. "Yes, babe. I do."
"Don't call me babe, Verlac," Clary huffed.
"Why? I thought you liked it when I call you babe."
"No," she drawled out, "your sluts like it. I, on the other hand, find it annoying and repulsive."
Sebastian chuckled. "Whatever you say, babe. I'm going to find some fine ass to dance with."
Clary was about to retort when Sebastian pressed his lips to her forehead, brushed his calloused hand over her hair, then disappeared into the throng of bodies pressed up against each other and swaying to the beat of the music pulsing through the air.
"Gone to find his first victim?"
Clary turned towards the voice, a broad smile stretching across her lips.
"Yeah, poor girl…if only she could be warned."
Alec snorted. "Sadly I don't think it would help."
"Probably not. So…where's our favorite stylist? I haven't seen him since he forced me into this dress earlier."
Alec Lightwood's deep blue crystalline eyes scanned her body and a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Her cheeks immediately heated under his scrutiny.
"He's getting drinks…and I like the dress. It's sexy."
Clary scoffed. "Right."
Alec's large slender hands enveloped her shoulders and maneuvered her body to face him. Due to his six-foot plus height difference, he had to stoop in order to be relatively eye level with her. Through his coal-colored hair, his eyes shone with sincerity as he spoke.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are, Angel…it drives me insane sometimes. If you could see yourself the way that I see you…or the way that Jem, or Jordan, or Seb see you…I just wish you knew."
She stared at him in shock. Alec was always affectionate towards her, but this was different. If she didn't know he was gay, she might have been confused by his words.
"Hello, my lovelies."
Alec righted himself and turned towards his boyfriend, taking the drink intended for him with a smile. Clary shook herself from her thoughts to focus her attention on her stylist, and Alec's boyfriend, Magnus Bane.
"What's shakin', gorgeous?"
Clary looked up at the man standing before her taking in his flamboyant choice of wardrobe, wild and colorful hair, and decorated face encasing the most peculiar cat-like eyes. Magnus was definitely an eccentric character, and a stark contrast to Alec, but she loved him and his quirkiness all the same. And he was a damn good stylist. If he could make her look this good, then he performed magic in her book.
"Clary was just whining about her dress," Alec explained as he sipped his drink.
Magnus' slanted eyes grew in size as he scoffed. "What?! Why? That dress is sexy as hell on you!"
"That's what I told her, but, you know…" Alec trailed off.
Magnus narrowed his eyes at her and she suddenly felt like she was in trouble. Not a good feeling.
"That dress," he began, pointing his glittery polished finger at her, "is Dolce and Gabbana. The lace is specially woven and it was hand cut and crafted to fit your measurements specifically. I've had the designer working on it since I found out about this event two months ago."
She threw her hands up in surrender."Alright, alright. I'm sorry. You're right. It's perfect."
She had to admit to herself that it did make her feel sexy. It was a far cry from her usual jeans and Converse or even her stage outfits, which tended to lean towards the rocker chic side of her fashion. But this dress was classy with enough sex to turn up the heat. It was made entirely of black lace. The top was a boat neck that draped off her shoulders in thick straps and scooped wide across her collar bones, dipping dangerously low in the back and hugging her curves all over. The hem line stopped just short of mid-thigh with a scalloped edge, giving it a feminine flare and showcasing her legs. Since it was entirely see-through, she wore a silky black matching bandeau and cheeky undergarment set. Top it off with the 6 inch red heels and her somewhat tamed red curls and smoky eyes and she did sort of look sexy.
"You're damn right I'm right," Magnus huffed.
Alec chuckled and placed his hand on his boyfriend's arm."Come on, let's go find somewhere to sit down."
Clary watched as the two guys sauntered away, Magnus swinging his hips slightly, and she giggled to herself at their hilarity. Deciding it was time for a drink, she breezed her way through the meshing bodies and towards the bar where she planted herself on a vacant stool. She ordered a fruity mixed drink to start the night off, deciding to hold off on the harder stuff until after their short performance later. She was still feeling a bit nostalgic that Jem would be parting ways with their band after that night, but she tried not to focus too much on it. If she did, then she would start crying. And crying was not an option, at least not in front of the multitude of strangers that engulfed her.
Jem Carstairs had been with their band, The Clockwork Princess, since they had started six years ago. It was going to be hard to move forward without him. But she understood; he had a commitment he had to keep. He had been delaying the inevitable for far too long and it was just a matter of time before he cracked anyway. Tessa Grey, his fiancé, wasn't going to keep accepting his excuses to ward off her incessant requests. She wanted to get married and start a family. Jem wanted to make her happy. So he complied and agreed that he would leave right after their first performance of the new tour…which happened to be earlier that night. They kicked off in their hometown, Manhattan, so it was the perfect opportunity for him to bid farewell to the city where it all began.
And that's what brought them to this ridiculously extravagant party the label was throwing as a 'go away/send-off' for Jem. Clary understood that there were several individuals that wanted to give him their best wishes, but she hated these sorts of events. Especially when it was in light of something as bittersweet as this. She would have rather had a small, intimate gathering of close friends and family to end it all. It would have meant more. But that wasn't her call. She had to play by their rules, even if they were stupid and insensitive.
Besides, she had more pressing matters to think of than a moronic party. Her lead guitarist was leaving. Her phenomenal lead guitarist at that. Who in the hell was she going to find to replace Jem in such a capacity as to uphold the standards that she had placed on their dynamic? No one could compare. No one would compare. Jem was it, the whole package, and she didn't want to lose him. There was no way anyone else could compare to what he brought to their vibe. But he assured her that he had found someone perfect, someone one who had raw talent and would offer much more to their group than he could at that point. She doubted his enthusiasm, but she trusted him none the less.
She was lost in thought, tracing the rim of her second, half empty glass, when she felt a presence appear on the stool next to her.
"Hey there," a smooth voice broke through her reverie, the heat from his body radiating onto hers.
Clary didn't bother to look up. She was used to being hit on at these parties and at bars, and she always brushed her suitors off because she really couldn't be hassled with their lame one-liners and lack of intelligent conversation. They only flirted because of her status anyway.
"So you're going to play the 'Condescending Princess', is that it?"
That set her off. She slowly turned her head to face the obnoxious ass next to her, her features set in a glare of indifference. She didn't expect to be face-to-face with Himeros himself, but there he was: the god of sexuality in all of his glorious perfection. She shook off her initial shock and schooled her features back in place before he noticed.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that ignoring pretentious ass-wipes was considered condescending."
Himeros smirked at her, his honey eyes glinting with amusement. "That's real cute. Did you come up with that insult all by yourself?"
Without a word Clary turned back to her drink, swallowed the remaining alcohol, then spun on her stool and sashayed away from the bar, not caring in the slightest that she had just been a rude bitch to a complete stranger.
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