No Distractions Allowed
The training room reverberated with the sounds of clashing metal against metal as Clary and Jace circled one another, one moment calculating their moves carefully, the next moment engaged in a fierce tangle for victory. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating their weaving figures and casting their shadows on the leftmost wall. The black leather that clung to Clary's blurring figure was a sharp contrast to the tracksuit pants and loose t-shirt that Jace wore. A double ringlet rune was glowing on both of their shoulders, a symbol that signified much more than a simple promise ring ever could.
Their eyes were intense and focused, tuned out of the world around them – the dispersed chatter throughout the corridors, the idle chatter filling the main hall. All noise, all distractions, were blocked out as both fought to keep their opponent off balance, on their guard, watching each other's every move. Strike, parry, deflection, over and over again as they twisted and turned, trying to find the gap that would present the perfect opportunity for a killing strike. Nervous energy coursed through the space, setting alight the blood in their veins.
As the battle stretched onwards, and stamina began to wear off, the two kept searching for an inevitable drop in guard, and it was as she began to lose hope that Clary finally found one. A gaping hole in his defense, something, Clary observed as she struck towards it, that Jace would usually have covered, even at this late stage in a battle. Quite an easy picking, to be honest. Almost seemed to good to be true.
Too good to be true.
Just a fraction too late, Clary realized her mistake, as she advanced as if in slow motion to the now obvious snare. Jace's sword came carving down at hers, and she watched as he twisted it out of her grasp and sent it clattering several meters across the training room floor. She almost didn't want to look up, to see the cocky grin that would surely be meeting her gaze. "Nice try." Clary made an offended noise in the back of her throat." Fluke." "Oh really? I seem to recall that I just disarmed you and held a sword against your throat." "As I said, complete fluke. I could beat you right now if you gave me a chance." Jace laughed, an easy laugh that almost made Clary forget where she was for a second. "Come on then. Beat me."
A devious look settled itself on Clary's face as an idea began to form in her mind. She shrugged her jacket of her shoulders, exposing her shoulders and collarbones to plain view, and slid off the bobble that was restraining her hair, causing it to fall down in waves that bounced sunlight off of them. "Hey, no fair! I need to be able to concentrate!" Jace whined. Clary just smiled and dropped into a ready stance. But Jace was Jace, and he wasn't giving up just yet. "Fine then." Jace said. "But you're making a mistake. Two can play at that game." And without further warning, he pulled off his white shirt, throwing it down to the corner of the room. Clary sent a cursory glance up and down his figure. "Okay then." She murmured. "I can think of worse things to be doing."
With that, she spiraled her blade out only to be readily deflected by Jace's waiting sword. Rebounding, she swung around again and began once more an onslaught of strikes from all different angles, most received readily by Jace except for the few here and there that almost beat his reaction time. But it was clear that Jace had the upper hand, and that as soon as he started putting some more effort into it he would have her cornered within a matter of seconds. It was time to start being original.
The next thing Jace saw was Clary's sword spinning in the air towards him. In an act of shocked reflex, he dropped his own blade in order to catch the handle of Clary's sword with both hands. As her blade settled itself in his grip, he registered her duck under his line of sight and audaciously swipe his own blade from under him. She quickly recoiled back, and rocked on her heels with his sword firmly held in her hands. Swiping at him once more, this time her attacks were less haphazard and more calculated, and he realized what she was doing.
Under normal circumstances, it could have been said that they were almost evenly matched, even if he had a slight edge from experience. But it was now that his experience became his downfall, as he struggled to adjust to the unfamiliar weight in his hands, a stranger to the blade he had wielded his entire life. The blade that now lay in the unforgiving hands of Clary Fairchild. Her eyes glinted mercilessly as she drove him back, step by step, giving the best fight she had given in a while in the training room. Her auburn hair flew out behind her and glowed in the light that still streamed into the room, and in front of him, she looked like a goddess. Trying not to get distracted, he cursed and struck the blade out at her, but she was winning ground, and she pushed him back right up as far as the wall, and held the sword against his throat, making sure to account for the blade he still held in his right hand. He dropped it as she crushed his wrist, only releasing him when she had kicked the weapon across to the other side of the room. He smiled and held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, I give. That was impressive." "She snorted and pressed him further against the wall. "Don't think you're getting off that easily."
But then he smiled his winning smile, the one that made her go weak at the knees. "You know, I think we're quits." And then they were kissing, and she was drinking him in, suffocating in him like a drug on which she would be forever hooked. They pressed up against each other, looking for purchase. He wove his hands through her hair, and she grasped at the skin on his back, all her senses on fire, all her instincts telling her to stay here forever. No distractions allowed.