Jace wiped the blood off of his cheek, smearing the Voyance rune on his left hand. A gruesome pattern of red and black on his skin. He still felt a little unsteady, even with Clary's small arm around his shoulders. But then again, that could have been making it worse. Jace wasn't used to dealing with pure displays of emotion; Shadowhunters rarely cried, especially in front of others. It was a sign that although you are part angel, you are still part human. You still feel all those emotions, bursting like fireworks in your blood. The cold rage of battle, the ice of loss that spreads in your veins. But none the less, seeing her cry had ignited something in him. Jace was all too familiar with the feeling that ensues after your whole world comes crashing down on you, the fragile walls of your life, crumbling and cracking at your feet, refelecting something cruel and unknown, while you stand in the centre of the rain, the shards of pain hitting your face, but you don't care because you are numb with shock because you realise that you are so alone it hurts to breathe, to blink. He guessed he just didn't want Clary to feel that way. Because somebody did care about her, somebody who wanted to dry her tears and take her in their arms, fit her broken pieces back together. That was all Jace Wayland had wanted since he was ten years old: to fix the broken pieces of this heart, his soul, somebody who would be there, wanted to be there, to hold him while he cried. But people like that were hard to come by, especially in the world of Shadowhunters and Downworlders.
Jace heard Clary take a sharp intake of breath. She turned, but didn't remove her arm. A woman stood by the open window, a gaudy floral dress flowing around her in citrus folds. He noticed, with vague indifference, that she was wearing slippers. Maybe she had been given the slippers as a token of affection by somebody and couldn't be bothered to get a new pair. Diverting his eyes from the slippers that looked like they were made out of carpet, Jace disentangled himself, painfully, from Clary, walking over to the Forsaken lying a few feet away. He turned to Clary, wariness in his eyes. " You may not want to look at this", he said, then added in a whisper, "I wouldn't hold it against you". But she met his gaze, clear and strong. Probably too shocked to speak, she only nooded her head at him. Jace took a blade from his pocket and brought it down on the Forsaken's neck. A pool of blood started to seep into the floor. Decapitation was always Jace's least favourite part, if he had a favourite part to begin with. He shoved the blade back into his pocket and walked back over to Clary and the lady with the slippers. Clary looked like she was about to embrace the woman, but thought better of it. Instead she took a few hesitant steps towards the woman with the dress and slippers, questions brewing behind her green eyes like coffee." Madame Dorothea, what are you doing here ?", Clary asks, skeptism clear in her voice. To be honest, Jace himself would be skeptical of anyone weraing such clothing. Especially if they were a mundane.
" Can't a lady visit her friends gallery and see how her daughter is ?" Madame Dorothea questioned.
" You and my mother were never friends and something tells me you don't want biscuits and tea and to talk about gold leaf and brush stroke techniques or different shades of blue", Clary replied bitterly.
" Well, art has never been my field of interested, but am interested in some tea; I do hate biscuits. Come. When can discuss your... situation there", Madame Dorothea said, but her tone brooked no argument.
"Excuse me, Miss Citrus Dress, we can't just leave a body, no less one of a Forsaken, lying around on the floor. That's like putting up a neon sign, proclaiming " Bird Watching Club " and expecting them to talk about herbal tea. And the Clave wouldn't like it", Jace said, adding the end as an after -thought .
" Jace Wayland, since when do you care about what the Clave wouldn't like. If they told you to wear an orange tie, you would go for the black one ", Madame Dorothea replied curtly.
" Of course I wouldn't wear an orange tie, it would clash with the golden waves of my luminous hair. Second, black ties go with everything. And thirdly, this is the most important bit, I really, truly don't care about your opinion if me . You don't even know me ", Jace replied, anger bubbling underneath the surface of his skin, coiling in his veins, wrapping him in a sharp web of rageful thorns.
" My dear boy, I know more than you think I do. I know more about you than you do. Come, we can talk about this in my shop ", Madame Dorothea said, spinning on her heel and walking out the door, closing it with such force that some of the fractured glass fell out.
Clary walked over to Jace, tentively putting her hand on his arm. She knew she was upset. His face may have been as cool and blank as a sheet of ice, but she could see, could feel, that bubbling anger under the surface, that fiery rage coursing through him like lava. An internal struggle: his cold facade and his fiery emotions, not just rage . " Are you all right?" , Clary asked, trying not to overstep her bounds. What were her bounds? Where were her bounds? Jace looked at her, gold eyes on green. He looked like he was going to say something, then decided against it and shut his mouth, lips forming a tight line. He took a breath. " I'm never alright", he said. Jace stalked away from her and was out of the door in five seconds, oblivious to the rain of glass under his feet. Unsure of what to do, Clary walked over to the door and moved some of the glass with the toe of her boot, unfortunately resulting in her just spreading more glass. Giving up with a sigh, like she had on so many other things, Clary Fray followed the fiery cold boy down the street to a home of crystal balls and fake futures.
Author's Note: Since saying the word sorry for ten lines of text won't convey how apologetic I am for not uploading or how much I hate myself for making you lively people who actually take the time to read my excuse of a story, I will just say this. I am a stupid idiot who needs to better organize their time so they can repay all the live and gratitude they have been shown. There, that pretty much covers it. But, I do have one feeble excuse. Two, actually. One : Lord of Shadows! Just , wow. That book, I haven't even finished it and I already live it and it is just so cool and awesome and pretty and just, wow! Second: School. The constant evil in my life that threatens my sanity for eight hours, five days a week. My Blackthorn story is in the works, I have had a few Ides that came to me but I wanted to post a chapter of this instead. Thank you so much for all your live andosupport, it means the world to me. Thank you to Mina, a treasured friend and a beautiful writer. Thank you so much guys, I hope you enjoy this chapter and your Friday evening !
All my deepest love and gratitude, Tempe