January 31st, 2016, 2:05 a.m.

The Institute was dark and quiet, the impeccably cleaned, gray-painted walls standing tall and proud – imposing. The checkered, tiled floor was cleaned and polished to perfection, shining underfoot as small, combat-booted feet clicked softly on its surface – the only sound that broke the stifling silence. A lone figure strode down the hallways, a witchlight clutched loosely in its right hand and a still-bloodied seraph blade in its left. There was a slight stagger in its walk; it was favoring its left side, as though it was injured. And anyone who knew the identity of the figure would know that an injury was fairly likely, since said figure preferred to hunt alone.

The figure sighed heavily as it reached its destination – a small room at the very end of the hall. It walked in with a small groan and headed for the bathroom. It left the door open and flicked on the light. It looked in the mirror and took in the sight – its dark, shoulder-length hair tangled and matted with ichor and blood, its olive-tan skin marred in multiple places with superficial wounds, mascara smudged beneath its pale, green-gold eyes, and its black outfit ripped over its hip, where a not-so-superficial wound resided.

The girl in the mirror closed her eyes and pulled her shirt up to examine the injury, a curse on her plump, split lips as she moved to draw an iratze just over the wound. She hissed through gritted teeth, counted to ten, and took a deep breath to steady herself as the wound stitched itself back together. She was so absorbed in her ministrations that she didn't notice the slight creak of the door opening, nor the footsteps that made their way into the bathroom with her.

"Shiloh, are you okay?"

The girl jumped, her stele clattering from her fingers into the floor as she spun toward the gruff, sleep-ridden voice. Her eyes went from wide and alarmed to narrowed and angry – though not at the newcomer - in half a second, and she turned back to the mirror. "I'm fine, thanks," she responded, reaching over to turn on the sink and wash the blood off of her hands.

The newcomer – a boy of nineteen or so – leaned on the doorjamb, his golden-red hair falling into his brown eyes as he took in the sight of the girl. "You don't look fine," he replied, a tiny, concerned frown on his lips as he swept his gaze up and down the girl, appraising for injuries that he might have missed at first glance.

"Well, I am. You don't have to check up on me so often, Neil." Shiloh's voice held the same level of emotionlessness as always. She'd only come to the Institute three months ago, after an incident in her home in Idris had claimed the life of her father. Shiloh, being only seventeen years old, had been required to go and live with her next-of-kin, which had just so happened to be her uncle on her father's side, Martin Timbervale, and his family - his wife, Gertrude Timbervale, formerly Ravenscar, and their son, Neil Timbervale - along with the rest of the Seattle Institute's residents. So far, she hadn't adjusted very well, and hadn't truly made friends with any of her peers - including Neil, though he had tried hard to get her to open up to him. All she had told him about her was that her parents had divorced when she was young, and her mother had left her with her father. He knew virtually nothing about how her home life had been, if she'd ever been outside Idris apart from recently... nothing.

And Shiloh was fine with that.

In all honesty, she didn't want to hurt his feelings. It was obvious that Neil, though he had friends in his own Institute, was excited to have family there. Shiloh simply wasn't used to all of the people she suddenly had to be around all the time. It had just been her and her dad in Idris, and she hadn't known how to react to his sudden passing and her subsequent moving halfway across the world. So, she decided it would be better to retreat back inside her own shell for awhile and just talk to the others when she had to. Not to mention the fact that something about the Institute just didn't seem right to her - though that may have just been because she wasn't used to it. She was used to a small apartment building in Idris, not a massive, mostly-empty church. She was used to sunlight and good weather and tea and good food, not rain and grunge music and black coffee and greasy crap. Shiloh knew it was just the culture shock, but she still couldn't shake the uneasiness that settled in her gut.

A sigh broke the silence. Neil had waited until the wound on her side healed up all the way before he turned to leave the room without another word, clearly disappointed that his efforts once again proved useless.

Shiloh sighed and washed her face free of blood and ichor and headed back into her bedroom to change into a more comfortable outfit to sleep. In the morning, she'd be expected to get up and spend time around the other members of the Institute, whether she liked it or not. It was just a fact of life now.

She eased her tired body down on the bed, slipped under the covers, and situated herself on her back, like always. The uneasy feeling was back at full force, winding its way throughout her body and tensing up her muscles, as though her instinct was telling her that something was off. She took a few moments to stare at the smooth, white ceiling of the room before closing her eyes, forcing herself to ignore the phantom pressure on her stomach, and the icy tendrils of "something's wrong" that tightened in her chest.

It was probably nothing, anyway.

An- I decided to reboot this less than a week before I started college. It got a lot of attention the first time I posted it, but I only received one single form, even though many people said they were going to submit. So, I've decided to just repost the story with slight edits to the rules and making it more inclusive. c:

Rules

1) Send your OCs through PM only. I don't want the reviews cluttered with character bios. Plus, it takes all the fun out of everyone else getting to know your character through the story, so it's just a bad idea.

2) Detail is appreciated. Though it isn't absolutely necessary, detail is very appreciated. I like paragraphs upon paragraphs to read through, and it allows me to portray your character as correctly as humanly possible. Also, if I'm going to put in the time to write the story, I think you should put in the time to make a good character. Don't you? c:

3) There are a limited number of spots for characters. I'm not sure what that number is yet, but I'm guessing it's going to be around seven, with an even number of males and females. So, yes, a very small number. Adding detail and spending time on your submission allows a much better chance for your character to be accepted. Don't worry if it takes more than one PM to get the character's entire form in.

4) If your character is accepted, review! I'm not saying you have to review every chapter, but a review every now and again would be nice. Just let me know how I'm doing, correct any mistakes I may make, and stuff like that.

5) Pertaining to last names... This is quite a bit AU, so your characters can have any last name you want. In fact, I'd love it if you sent in Herondales, Lightwoods, Blackthorns, Fairchilds, Carstairs and the like. This does not mean that they will have any relationship with the characters of the actual books, since the characters of the actual books either do not exist, or will not be brought up at all.

8) If you have any questions... pm me! Apart from that, just have fun. The form is on my profile, ready to go!

Thanks for reading and God bless you!

Love, Snowy