Ty Blackthorn

'Love comes in many forms, but a hoodie is a strange one.'

I awoke in the early hours of the morning. Weakened and exhausted, coating in sweat and panting. Blankets once again kicked onto the floor at some point throughout night hours, a mark of my trashing around in my sleep.

Morning came upon me, sadly morning do this in a fixed 24-hour cycle, now without Kit there to calm me back down. Not he stayed around Blackthorn for a particularly long amount of time to do so, but it was in his way of doing such a thing, an understanding about what I did, without the lack therefore in other Shadowhunters, a part of mundane knowledge that we didn't want to pick up and stand beside. Attachment is a very quick process, and I wasn't likely to ignore him when our first meeting appeared at knifepoint, then coming to live in Los Angles Institute.

With my letter completed yesterday, It felt good that I had something crossed off the list early. Today though I had set aside time later to come up with the best way to send it. (Without the luxury of Magnus Bane delivery service). I could have it sent via type fire message, typical Shadowhunter way of communication, but it could be at risk of others compromise. And I happened to have no tech up here. Livvy might have done so a few days ago, but I didn't want to have another risk of attack. Even with the protection of the Herondale heirloom.

Still unbelievable Kit would gift it to me. Family heirlooms were rare, unique and stayed in the family. Kit might not hold such high connections to his name or family, but part of me wondered if Kit had wished to sell it to the highest bidder. Then again Kit, according to Livvy, drinks quite a bit of alcohol these days.

Ah, but Kit had my letter now, with no chance of coming back. so I wouldn't have to worry over it now. I froze suddenly, as I realized what fact had just registered into my thought process. A feeling of playing catch-up anxiety making me bolt into sitting upright.

How? When? What, Impossible ... my letter, I hadn't given it to anyone, it should still have been here. Kit couldn't have it. But somehow I knew he did. Somehow, presented itself as proof in form of my small sliver of remaining on-the-bed-blanket, which I happened to be curled up in. Shifting quickly, I held my clothed arms out in front of me.

Small size for me. red, grey and black. Soft inner lining. Reaching up to my head, I felt a hood. Tearin it off myself, I found labelled on. Kit Rook... Kit Rook's hoodie is in my room more specifically with me wearing it after blank memories, in this inhospitable Shadowhunter training ground. A whole country away from being reasonable. Ah, I needed a secondary perspective. "By the Angel. Livvy, There is a Kit owned hoodie in here. Help."

Previous day:

Frist letter finished. Mission complete. I let go of a deep breath that people say they sometimes don't realise they're holding. Julian had taught me it was a sign of relaxing tension after an extremely emotionally difficult task, which my family had long since confirmed. Somewhere in these past few months, Kit had become a very difficult task for my brain to process. Which meant I spent hours and days working through everything I knew about him. Keeping hold of what made Kit, Kit at least from my view I suppose, one could argue. And how Kit affected me.

Love. One of those things for humanity that you just, after a certain age are supposed to know. Even if it is a difficult thing to explain to anyone. Love comes in many varying forms and each with a complex set of almost unspoken rules. Running through all of these, I tried in desperation to work out which category Kit fell under for me, and working on from there. There had been moments where I could find out how much I loved each by how much I let them touch my body, well, I guess would have been a good enough indicator for a long time. Now it felt unfair since Kit had spent so much less time with us.

First, Family Love. My family loved me, I knew. We struggled through everything together, fought to stay unseparated together. Sent us all into the depths, willing to do anything to protect the others. But when Kit had come, he understood me so so differently to Jules, Emma, and Dru. To them, I would forever be their delicate breakable brother. At least now, they were happy, I felt I could leave all of my pain behind with them, no I had to leave. To the place where Julian hadn't wanted to send me. This love felt hidden, defended, tried to claim I wasn't different from the rest. Even when I could take it all by myself. I could handle myself.

Second: Friendship. A more chosen type of love. Friends cared in a more secretive way, unknown codes and actions. Friends discussed stuff together. Dreams, hopes, wishes, futures. Although one had more option as to keeping things if they didn't want to be known, hidden. Me and Kit had shared those, types of things. Things I rarely had to anyone except for Livvy and better, he didn't judge, he had to guts to call me out (at least at first). I felt a friend might be easier to bring things up with than family. Cause families went far to protect you. And being a Blackthorn meant that Julian went further than any other.

Third: Parabaitai. The strongest form of Friendship love for the Shadowhunter. Bonded warriors in life and death. After Julian and Emma became these giant angelic beings, due to them both falling in love, I would now absolutely not chose to be Parabaitai with Kit unless there happened to be a current need for True Nephilim. I had considered that possibility after Livvy's death, we forever defend each other, but all my closest idea of that commitment came from the dynamic between Julian and Emma. alongside all other Parabaitai bonds I knew of, there were rumours of romantic feelings being involved with nearly every one of them. Therefore, my reason was shattered on become a pair of Parabatai.

Third: Romantic: Never in my life had I ever even tried to express romantic intentions before Kit, then afterwards he lived with us, I couldn't say how I felt verbally what I hadn't understood myself. Voicing my uncertain feelings and having them found to be unwanted was something I wasn't prepared to experience, but Livvy had known, she always did with him. She did everything in her power to defend me from a broken heart. Although these days, she stated in detail, that he was a great kisser and asked after me, alongside that next time we came into contact, "Too not reject him so harshly that he leaves another country to go into isolation over her dead body. "

After debating the strange reality Kit was, after drafting letters for each part Kit, now I only had one task left in writing today. I had set aside an extra hour and a half in my schedule just for this final task. I would have set aside a week if I didn't know such a long timeframe would cause me to think too much about it and my letter stay a blank page of unwritten dread. Carefully, I lifted the last, sixth letter written from a set of drafted diary pages, and folded it gently in half and placed it to one side, then picked in a different piece of paper, an envelope.

Now for my final part of this task, deciding the name of the recipient of my letter. Yes, many things lay upon it being done correctly. Except there were at least five different correct ways to address his name, so it would reach him. Opening though is an entirely other question. So, of course, I'd have to draft and decide very carefully beforehand.

Given the fact that Kit had gone all the way to England, a whole other country, even from LA Los angles and a home I had also abandoned, he probably wouldn't want to find his name on a letter of mine. There is more weight in my writing and contained a lot more of those unsaid things and missing goodbyes than could fit in a postcard.

Kit Rook. That happened to be who Kit had personified himself to me and Livvy, who managed to capture my attention, fought back when I first held him at knifepoint and helped us both rise higher. Someone we let become a part of our trio because it just made sense. Until it fell apart before us when one left where we couldn't follow as we currently were.

Maybe I thought Kit could take anything I did and push me back if my plan went too far, but he hadn't until everything ended up with Ty, the necromancer and my undead twin, and Kit, the lost heir. But to the rest of the Shadowhunters, he will always be full Herondale. Missing link in a famous Shadowhunter family, destined to be a great warrior, Jace 2.0 adored by worshippers, upholding all it meant to be Shadowhunter.

A jolt of panic ran down my spine He would know it was from me. Instantly from that titling. since who else but the Blackthorns would have reason to call him that, And everyone else happened to be able to text him, so by deduction, Ty was the only one left to send a letter.

On the complete opposite end of this debate, there was Christopher Herondale. No, that felt unimportant somehow, too formal for this matter. Sure with this, he would open it, but when he read it, it seemed like a trick, like Ty had made another strike of being impersonal, only another knife to stab into him. If Kit felt any of the way I thought he did, like I wanted to believe he did, he could draw even further away From all Blackthorns, even Shadowhunters. Making it almost impossible to even find, well for most other people.

No, I wanted Kit to decide for himself if he wished a letter from me, knowing it happened to be mine. So I wrote in blue ink those three letters.

KIT.

Kit Rook

When I did happen to awake from the second dream state. Alive and not dying, check. Right then, Groaning I rose upwards again, confirming, yep, no dead body either, I looked up, nil on ceiling score. Nothing. Out of the window, nothing there, I rechecked at least fifty times. No shadow-like figure. But I was mostly sure that I hadn't been dreaming for all of last night.

Not a dreamed threat list:

First sign: of course, open window. Anything could easily enter if I had.

Second sign: my blankets were neatly folded at the end of my bed. I never make my bed with that level of care. Waste of valuable time. Someone had come close enough the drag them down, I could imagine them slowly opening the window, sneaking across the room. No killer needed to do that to make to a fast kill (and bonus, I'm still alive), no kidnapper would leave without their prey. This felt more...intimate.

Lord, if I hadn't woken up when I did, who knows how far would it might have gone. I mean, I'm the type of person to (currently) sleep in nothing than my boxers over a dislike of overheating. A chill ran down my spine, I rushed to the mirror and quickly as stared hard.

Shit, you've got to be kidding me. Were those... Hickeys. My mind went into overdrive damage control. You could never be too cautious coming from Los Angles. They were dark purple and from this direction, ranged from my left arms and across my chest, all the way down to my torso. Yeah, time to raid the cupboard, I owned a turtle neck, so that was my neck covered. No need to have Jem and Tessa or heaven forbid, Min Min noticing these marks.

Third sign of danger: One of my hoodies is missing, black with red lining and gray fur. My favourite, which I hung on the coat peg on inside the right door. Not that Shadowhunter casual, I remember wearing just two days ago, plus seeing where I left it yesterday. (now I have a stalker with a fascination in collecting my clothing).

Entry 755:

As it happened, these events were one of the most shocking things to happen over the past few months (at least for me, as I had heard of much worse, in like demonic realms). These marks covered a fairly concerning amount of my body after all not something I can convince myself to believe as bruising from a trip down 4 flights of castle length stairs. Even for Shadowhunter life standards, this was a heretic waking up call.

Also, they followed the movements of my dream last night, which begs a question list:

Who (and what for that matter), isn't something I wish to discover quickly if I'm honest, I mean most people find me attractive without a Jace comparison around apart, still, from a safety concern cause, anonymous murderous stalker after me doesn't sound fantastic. Plus we didn't have any unknown friends come over on a whim, especially not me. Plus my room ... well, it is pretty much the most warded place I've ever been in with faerie assassins out there trying to end my existence.

At this point in time, still getting out of sleep mode, plus throughout most of today, I thought all of it was caused by like a weird set of dreams or hallucinations, stress of the job and stuff.

How much (and kind of) power did this presence have,

Enough to break Shadowhunter and Tessa's wards. (Even other Downworlders would have a hard time).

Have a physical enough presence to appear in my room for upwards of hours without opening my door or window.

I did one thing every day as everyone usually said goodnight and stuff, before sleeping, place a small piece of pencil lead on the latch of my door, So say if the door opened at any time, even with an opening rune, that lead would have fallen out of place. It wasn't out of place. Most people wouldn't pick up on this unless they watched detective shows or had been observing for a while.

Alongside controlling my dream space. Classification: (mind fuckery).

Knock me out with sound magic. (Shadowhunter catch up is hard stuff)

Then leave, (without me)

Evidence that they did all of this one last night

Missing/changed things about my room that I definitely didn't cause,

Marks (dream ordinated)

Me on the floor where I had fallen down.

Trust me, staying to just my dreams would have done wonders to my current paranoia and embarrassment. I had done all the testing I'd ever learned about casing a joint. Nothing suspicious was found outside, even under or around my window. Which isn't much of a comfort for my situation.

Why ! is my most concerning question, although damningly obvious. Note: Sleeping in just underwear is a stupid thing to currently continue. Also, filming may be a necessary requirement if this continues.

If I go missing, please let this diary go to Jem or Tessa, or someone with wicked magical detective skills.

Kit

New chapter is done for February. Plans for at least the next three have been written.

Continuing at a better rate will be my goal, thank you all.

The Parabatai problem needed some better solutions. Firebird8000.