Okay okay. Wow its been a year or two! I'm really truly sorry for some unfinished works. Like the epilogue to The Lady in the Painting, Stele Arts Academy...and of course this number that was barely started. I'm not going to promise anything since I know I won't be able to keep it, but I really hope to be writing a bit more. Anyways, for any who care, I'm about to graduate with my associates in Culinary Arts and am super excited to see where it takes me! Enjoy the read, it's still setting up a few things so I'm sorry if it's still a little slow-Laur
Aspen was still slumped against the rough bark of the spruce tree. She was certain she'd only been sulking for a short while, but the needles already itched her head and, annoyed, smacked the branch away from her. It responded, naturally, by sweeping back to slap her face with even more force than before.
She nearly growled at it, before shifting to a better spot in which needles didn't touch her. The spruce tree had been a sort of haven for her for years, where she could hide in the dark arms of the thirty foot tall tree. It, of course, hadn't stayed a secret for long, a younger Aspen eagerly sharing her findings with older sister Madeleine.
And as much as Aspen did not want to admit it, she always wanted Madeleine to talk her through whatever she was upset about. So it was almost-almost-comforting, when she saw her sister's white-blonde head making her way to her.
They both remained silent as Madeleine situated herself as comfortably as she could (she was rather tall), with the space given. Her older sister brought her knees up to her chin and stared off thoughtfully at the school. "Do you want me to talk, or do you?"
"You can." Aspen murmured, digging her foot into the soft dirt.
"Okay . . ." Madeleine said slowly, staring down the lawn, meanwhile chewing her lip worriedly. "Calantha looked upset when I talked to her. She said that you shouldn't be mad at her just because you're -"
"No, not that." Aspen groaned and shook her head. "Talk about you. I've had enough of me."
"Alright . . ."Madeleine hid her worried look and began. "I don't know if I should tell Eliza about what . . . well, what happened in June."
Aspen stared at her sister, wondering why on earth she still held that hope. "Maddie . . . Don't tell her. Honestly, you don't know if . . . ." she swallowed, choosing her words carefully, "You don't know if that guy was telling the truth. Downworlders are dangerous, need I remind you! You of all people should know that! How do you know you can trust him? He could've easily been lying. Or manipulating you for his own end, or -"
But Maddie just shook her head. "You don't remember that night. After they got Dad . . ." her voice broke for a moment. Aspen was thankful she was too young to remember, "well I don't recall what happened next exactly, but I never saw any of Mom's blood, or Clara's . . . they just disappeared."
"They aren't alive." Aspen told her stoutly, feeling like she'd said this countless times throughout the summer. "We are going to live with Cressida for the rest of our childhood and there is nothing we can to do to change that!"
"Oh, but Aspen, don't you wish that it would change?" Madeleine tugged Aspen's arm, forcing her green eyes to meet her sister's hazel ones. "Don't you wish we had parents?"
"Yes," Aspen could feel her lips trembling, and closed her eyes to keep them dry. "But wishing is childish." she ripped her gaze from her sister and stared at her high heeled boot. "And . . . it's useless wishing for something you'll never get."
Madeleine sighed, leaning her head against the black bark. "Whatever Aspen. If you don't want to help me . . . just fine. Whatever. I'll get help from my friends then, since my own family doesn't believe me."
Aspen rolled her eyes as Madeleine crawled out of the space and started to leave. "Stop being so dramatic!" she told her, "I'm just trying to be practical!"
Madeleine turned around and glared at Aspen. "We're Shadowhunters! Is there anything practical about us?" Aspen sighed and leaned her head back as Madeleine stormed off, disappearing behind the gray building.
Congratulations, Aspen, you managed to drive away the only person that is required to love you.
Jocelyn was already bombarded with her group of friends, and Luke felt obliged to stay back, watching from afar. He preferred it that way, really. As Jocelyn often grew spirited and excited, he found it safer for his well-being to stay behind. He could see the entire yard in front of him anyway, viewing each individual with passing interest.
Madeleine Bellefleur came stomping from around the back, looking downright furious, her platinum hair flying out around her. A few mundane recruits stood nervously in a tight circle by the front doors, glancing over their shoulder every so often like someone was going to stab them from behind, which given the last few years, wouldn't have been too far of a stretch. Granville and Adele Fairchild chatted with another a couple, and a boy (presumably their son) stood slumped behind him. The woman looked stern, with sleek pale blonde hair and defining wrinkles around her mouth. The older man standing next to her had a receding hairline that must've once been the same color as his son's, which was golden blonde, but his was losing his color and turned white. Luke stared as the Fairchild's embraced the other two like old friends, curious to know who they were.
Behind them, he saw his sister Amatis rejoining her friends, Annamarie Highsmith and Maryse Trueblood. He smiled as Amatis's blue eyes lit up in excitement and happiness at finally being reunited with them. It had been a dull summer with only him for company. He drifted his focus to the opposite side of the yard to where a beaky kid with glasses sat and leaned against the bricks of the school, reading a book. A distance off, he noticed Charles Freeman in heavy conversation with his own father. Calantha, the youngest, stood scowling at her brother, her short form ironically looking more menacing than that of her extremely tall and gawky brother.
Nearest to Luke though, stood a young girl with white blonde hair and extremely sallow skin. The girl didn't look like she could be older than 10 or 11, but Luke recognized that a few runes had been applied to her skin, and the large duffel bag at her feet that she was trying to desperately lift must've been hers.
No parents stood by her narrow shoulders to help the skinny girl and suddenly, Luke found himself unable to swallow a thick lump of pity and sadness in his throat. The pathetically thin girl swallowed quickly as her pale blue eyes moistened, yanking at the handle, now so frustrated, that her chest rose quickly in a gasping, sobbing breath so loud, he could hear her from where he stood. Luke started forward, not able to bear another second of the girl struggling, when a pale hand, much bigger than that of the girl, swooped in and lifted the duffel bag like it was no lighter than a pillow. Luke stared as the small girl looked up admiringly into the black eyes of Valentine Morgenstern.
Luke flinched backwards, barely 10 yards away, watching as her blue eyes sparkled up at the towering shadowhunter boy in front of her. She said something, which Valentine smiled charmingly at, placing a hand on her shoulder and squatting to her eye level. She nodded at whatever he was saying, a beaming grin stretching across her entire face. And for that moment, Luke found that the sickly girl actually looked quite pretty then.
Luke turned his back from the ever so charming Valentine, who could sweep in whenever someone was in need of help, even if it was as simple as lifting a duffel bag. Even when Luke had been about to help, for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that Valentine did it ten times better than he ever could. And it was precisely because he was a Morgenstern.
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