Dan Howell's eyes flickered open as the sunlight drifted in through his window. Rubbing his eyes and pushing his bed hair off his face, he caught a glimpse of his arm. He raised his other hand and ran a finger across the scars that decorated his skin, stroking the white swirling pattern that was painted on the inside of his forearm. Precision. His entire upper body was covered in these remains of the runes that had once sat bold and black against his tan skin. In his videos he'd been careful not to let them show, but actually he wished he could show them off at any given opportunity. He was immensely proud of these white marks that showed his battles against the creatures of hell. Demons. Dan sat up and pushed himself out of bed, checking the time on his phone; it was almost eleven o'clock. He stood in front of the mirror, admiring the rest of the scars that decorated his torso and upper arm.
What was funny was that Dan and Phil had not been born with the angel blood. One fateful evening on the way home from the BBC they'd been attacked by a demon and both been knocked out by venom from a stinger that had embedded it self in Phil and poisoned Dan in an attempt to get it out. When they woke up they were in what they were told was the 'Institute'. It was necessary for them to be told about the shadow-world then, considering that they'd both unknowingly had the sight. They'd started to train and make friends with the inhabitants there, and often went over to see them. Soon enough, there had been an announcement – the Clave wanted them to ascend. There had been a severe shortage of shadowhunters since the Great War against the demonic Jonathan Morgenstern, which Dan had learnt all about. The final alliance with the Downworlders; the battle against Valentine Morgenstern and his son, Jonathan; the legendary Clarissa Morgenstern who'd dismissed the ties to her evil family and been a power of good that had created new runes which in turn, helped forge an almost friendship between the Downworlders; Warlocks, Fair Folk, Vampires and Lycanthropes, and the Shadowhunters themselves.
The two boys had been deemed worthy for that honour after their months within the shadow-world. So that's what they did. They ascended. But there was a catch. They were told that they had to leave the mundane world; their families, their jobs, thier life. Obviously, they refused on the basis of what easier way to destroy the disguise of the shadow-world than to have over two million people around the world searching for thier suddenly missing idols? So the Clave gave in. Pompous, traditional and rigid as they had always been, their common sense had grown in the previous years.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dan saw his crystal stele sitting proudly on top of his chest of drawers. Leaning up against the chest was his seraph blade, of which he was also immensely proud to own. He was just proud in general of his life as a shadowhunter, a Nephilim. It was strange, yes, dangerous, yes, exhilarating, yes, but fun, most definitely. At a suggestion, the two boys had become parabatai soon after ascending, and it seemed as though nothing had changed between them until Phil went to Florida with his parents. Having not been separated since the transfer, the sensation was both uncomfortable and shocking for them. As if an invisible cable had been strung up between them, both felt the painful sensation of the tugging against their runes, the constant feeling that they were trying to pull against a rubber band that had been sewn to their skin. Dan rubbed the rune subconsciously, remembering the pain.
Dan was jolted from his reverie by the voice of that very parabatai, Phil Lester, calling from the kitchen. "Dan! Are you awake?" He shouted up.
"Yeah!" Dan shouted back.
"We need to go to the Institute!" Phil yelled.
"What? Why? Wait, I'm coming down." Dan called. He threw on a t-shirt and trailed downstairs to the kitchen. Phil was leaning against the island in the middle, looking at what could only be a fire message due to the burnt edges of the parchment. Dan's eyes raked over Phil, resting on the tip of the parabatai rune that tied him to Dan poking out the bottom of the boy's short sleeve. Phil too was covered in white flecks that were the leftovers of runes. Phil was just as proud of that lifestyle as Dan was, even if it did mean always wearing long sleeved shirts in videos. "Why do we need to go the institute?" Dan asked from Phil's shoulder, making the other male jump.
"Dan! Don't do that!" Phil scolded. Dan grinned; the quietude rune hadn't quite faded from the night before, when they'd been out demon-hunting.
"Why do we need to go?" Dan repeated.
"Angus says it's important." Phil responded with a shrug. Angus Highstrider was the head of the London institute and lived there with his family; his wife, Bethany, and his daughter, Jessica, who was now seventeen. Other occupants of the London Institute were sixteen year old Elizabeth Battlehallow (left on the Institute steps as a baby with only a name and the information that she was a shadowhunter) and Michael Whitechild (an orphan who'd taken residence in the Institute after his parents had been killed by a raum demon), who were currently together.
"When do they expect us?" Dan asked.
"ASAP." Phil replied.
(Okay I'm cringing right now. This is... this isn't as good as I remember it being when I wrote it, I'll admit. But if I get a good response about it then I'll keep it up, maybe even carry it on. But as always, let me know what you think; it's helpful. And also sorry for uploading this so much later than the other one, it got a bit busy in the house for a while. Ah family coming over. What a delight. *sarcasm*. I hope you enjoy this, and much love as always :) xxx)
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I'm sitting in a corner cringing.
