Lacie: I'm back! Did you miss me?
Clary: That depends…..
Lacie: Yes you are in the chapter.
Clary: Then yes, welcome back.
Chris: So anything exciting going to happen here?
Lacie: That's depends on how I go with it. Remember I have no idea how this story will end, so I'm winging it.
Clary: I GO BACK HOME
Lacie: I fix my 'n' button
Chris: I conquer the world AND mars
Clary: This look goes to both of you 0.o
Lacie: My little brother smashed his fists onto my laptop's keyboard and now I have to press really hard onto my 'n' button cause its jammed. So if you see a word that's missing an 'n' it's because I didn't otice.
Chris: Umm… Your word up there….
Lacie: *irritated* I see it :[. Anyways, thank you to all of my beloved viewers, for you are all now a part of my heart, my crunched, filled to the max, yet ready for more, strange and stitched up heart.
Chris: what
Lacie: My attempt at being loving. Do the disclaimer before I decide to not type anymore
Chris: Lacie-Abyss does not own the Mortal Instruments or any of its characters.
Lacie: Cause if I did, I wouldn't be here.
Enjoy!
PREVIOUSLY…ON AVATAR… Just kidding. I don't own that either.
Clary POV (the following occurs 4 days after the night in Saudi Arabia and the gangs discovery of Clary being there)
Clary was a nervous wreck.
It was ten minutes before her 'episode' was about to happen, and she couldn't sit still. Chris still wasn't back from wherever he had left, because Clary refused to leave the house after what had occurred, and what they had found out.
As soon as they had gotten home, Chris checked Clary's wrist in every way possible. He made her sit on the island in their kitchen, holding out her wrist so that he could inspect it. The rune had moved. The clock hand moving one tick forward, and in its wake a tattoo of swirls left behind, though Clary couldn't tell what it was just yet.
"How did it feel?" Chris interrogated her, "describe everything."
He asked this and more, did she feel the clock hand moving, why did her chest ache if her rune was on her wrist, was that blood the tattoo was made with, why didn't she tell him this, and on and on and on.
No, she didn't feel the clock hand moving, she felt an enormous pain stinging her as if an actual needle was being traced on her skin. She didn't know why her chest felt like it was ripping from the inside out, she suspected it was from her black blood.
That's why she had black blood, Chris had explained to her, after his anger session on how she hid this from him, that the black blood was to trace the tattoo onto her rune.
"The black blood probably holds the qualities that make you like me, and as the rue wears off, the blood is expelled onto the rune." Chris had only been able to determine this the day before, when he had sat and watched next to her, trying to comfort her through her episode, yet watching as her rune moved again. He described it as the hand slowly moving, etching out the tattoo as new shiny blood appeared and sunk onto her skin.
As for why this happened, they both easily found an answer to it. An entire day had to pass before the hand moved again, twenty four hours, and it would occur at the same time as when Clary had originally drawn the rune on her wrist in Chicago.
She didn't want to go anywhere, lest she lose track of the time and have her pain moment in the middle of a street or something, so she hadn't stepped foot outside at all. She entertained herself the first two days looking around the house, discovering a cool secret door behind her dresser that led to room with a small window on the ceiling, but empty. She found that Chris actually owned an iPad (she wasn't snooping in his room, nope, she wasn't. She was walking by and her elbow hit the door and turned the knob and she tripped inside) but it didn't have Wifi until he put in the password for it, but it did have some already downloaded apps, which she has gone through. Those two days had been alright, but yesterday she had just sat on the couch and watched movies with Chris, and today he announced that he had some business to do.
"Where are we anyway?" Clary had asked him about five hours ago, turning her neck around so that she could see behind the couch where he was placing his hand on the wall to make the front door appear.
"Russia," he had said, wrapping a scarf around his neck. He had put on some thick gloves that you could remove the material so that your fingers could stick out, and was wearing black snow pants and a wooly black jacket. It was a strange sight to see him like that, all bundled up. But when he had opened the door and a gust of freezing air and snow flurries breezed in, Clary recoiled and hugged her arms, sinking into the couch to protect herself from the cold.
"It's freezing! What business is so important that you have to come here for? I thought you weren't going to be doing stuff like this anymore?" Clary barely peeped at him from over the edge of the couch doing her best to stay warm.
"It's not anything you may be thinking of, don't worry." He had already stepped out the door and was about to close it when he said, "It'll be alright, I'll be back before it happens." He said some other things too but that's when the wind picked up in mother Russia and Clary practically curled into a little ball and waited until she heard the door close shut.
But that had been hours ago, and now Clary paced back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. She couldn't sit, she couldn't stand, she felt reckless, the all too familiar panic was starting to build in her chest again, the feeling that she had to go, go, go. Like she had to run away from something, but there was nothing to run away from. As usual she could feel the panic begin in her stomach, and her breathing was accelerating, and no matter how much she tried to calm down, it was inevitable. Nothing she tried yet could stop this from happening, and the only thing she could do was try to distract herself until her rune moved again. The fifth time her rune would move.
She ran around the house, pacing no longer satisfying. She ran upstairs, barefooted, letting her feet trail along the carpet, going up to her room, which now held an easel that Chris had brought through the magical cupboards.
The cupboards…. Four days ago, when Chris had finished interrogating her, she sent the jewels that Ghayth had lent her back through them, though she kept the outfit. Clary could still remember the shine of the jewels, the weight of them upon her head, and how she felt a little sad to depart from them. She hadn't even worn them for an hour yet they had already felt like a part of her. However, they weren't hers, so she had to give them back.
She had to, after all, Ghayth helped a lot, and Clary for the millionth time wondered if he was going to be okay.
Clary checked the watch she wore on her wrist at all times now, and her already speeding heart sped up even more when she saw that she less than five minutes.
Chris, where in the world are you?
When had she become so dependent on him?
She ran out of her room, down the short hallway and practically leaping from the top step of the stairs and landing at the bottom, almost losing her balance, but Sebastian's instincts kicked in and she absorbed the impact by bending her knees. From where she was standing at the base of the steps she had a perfect view of the place, on her right was the living room, sofa turned to face the wall on Clary's right, where the T.V was mounted, and a coffee table in front of it. On her left was the kitchen, the island with a marble top dominated the scene while another bar, also marble topped, separated the kitchen and the living room. The floor in the living room was green carpet, while the kitchen had a wooden floor.
Clary's eyes darted around the room, looking for something to distract herself with, and found Chris's iPad which she had been playing with before her anxiousness began. She pressed the button and sat on the sofa harshly, putting a pillow on her lap and bringing her legs as close to herself as possible. With the iPad on the pillow she searched through the apps, looking for a good one. She had only a few minutes to spare and she really didn't want to think about it, she'd much rather relax in bliss and let the attack just hit her, because it was worse if she just sat there and waited for it to happen.
Clary could still remember being about six years old, when her mother, Jocelyn, had decided to take Clary to get a flu shot.
What's a shot? Young Clary had asked.
It's needle, and they're going to put something special in you so that you can stay healthy and won't have to get sick," Jocelyn had answered.
They're going to put a needle in me! Clary had started crying and wailing, and in the end it took Jocelyn and three doctors to restrain her while a nurse injected her. In the end, she hardly felt it, but the fact that Clary had anticipated something horrible made her mind get all antsy.
That's why Clary was alright with not knowing. Don't tell her how many stitches she'll need, don't tell her how her tonsils will be removed, or when, don't tell her where the shot will go, just do it, and she'll bet she'll react better than if you had told her in the first place.
Clary looked down at the iPad in her hands, and clicked on a random app, a red one with what looked like a biohazard sign. When it opened up, she read the app was called Plague Inc. A game where you had to infect the world with your plague, control the way it transmits, the symptoms it causes, and the abilities it has, and eradicate the human race.
Now why would Chris have something like that? Clary thought sarcastically.
She decided to play it anyway, see how it was. Her initial opinion was that this game was for psychotic maniacs who were a bit on the insane side and spent their time creating ways to kill people, but as she played a game, learning that it was actually a strategic game, where you had to think about what would actually happen if an actual plague like this occurred in real life, and not just some gory game where you slaughter people, she began to get into it. Of course, it was on the easiest level to play, but as Clary went through the game, she began to feel a little murderous.
It was strange how playing this game made her want to kill off human kind.
Writer's POV: For those of you who have played this game, you know exactly what I'm talking about when I say you feel a little happy when you kill human kind. For those of you who haven't, one, it's just a game, no bloody stuff or scenes, it just the map of the world, and two, no, I do not wish to kill human kind.
Clary was so focused as she watched the Infected number of people increase by the thousands on the screen, that when she felt her chest convulse she almost forgot what caused it. Dropping the game to the side, she crumpled in on herself, cradling her wrist as she lay on her side, trying to take deep breaths through her gritted teeth as the rune traced her black blood onto it. This time she actually saw the hand move from where the four would be on the clock, towards the five. But she only watched for a few seconds before shutting her eyes tightly, clenching her jaw to prevent a scream.
She could feel her body spasm as it struggled to stay together while her chest felt like it was going to explode, her heart moving faster than it ever did, faster than it should be able to. It was a miracle to Clary that she could even be aware of these things, that she could think aside from the pain, be aware of what was going on around her. That didn't mean it hurt any less, if not more. She was always convinced that the pains were stronger each time.
Her pain level was reaching its peak, and that's when she heard a door open and close. The shuffling of boots came in, and then a voice, but Clary was in too much agony to even care as to who it was, because they shouted, "Clary!"
Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his lap from where his back leaned against the couch on the ground. Black eyes came into her vision, his white blond hair dangling over her. Chris cradled her like a baby, and even though it was obvious that she was shocking him, waves of electricity from her rune transmitting from her to him, he held on, trying to hold back a grimace because he knew that Clary was going through much worse.
"Clary, listen to me, how long ago did it start?" Chris asked, holding her cheek with one hand and holding onto her with another. All she could do was try not to cry out.
"Clary, please, how long have you been like this? Can you not remember?" He tried to calm her, rubbing her back soothingly, but it did nothing to release her of her misery.
She could hardly hear him, the pounding of her heart filled her ears, and suddenly she was screaming. Screaming like it was the end of the world, and it might as well have been, for all the difference it made to her at the moment. It was time like these that you made promises and wishes you'd never make if you were completely healthy. At this point, Clary wished that her chest really would explode, if only it meant the pain would stop, that somebody would just take a knife and kill her, burn her, drown her, something to end this.
She might have probably screamed that last part, because Chris pulled her tighter to him, sending a strong shock through him that made his back arch, and he said in a tight voice, lips close to her ear, "No Clary, it's just the pain, you don't want to die, you want the pain to stop. You know it'll stop soon, really soon, just hang on okay."
Clary gasped for air, sucking in oxygen as if her heart was beating too fast and wasting all the of its supply much too quickly. Her hand that wasn't in stinging pain was clenching onto Chris's shirt, and a small part of her wondered how quickly he must have taken all of his jackets and warm clothes to reach her. Another, smaller part, wondered that if she wasn't having her episode, she wouldn't be pulled into this tight hug, on his lap, in the first place.
But she couldn't marvel at this for long before her anguish overtook everything mentally wise and physically wise. Her voice screamed and her body waged war against this, fighting for this to end.
And like all things, it did end. Her heart starting by slowly beating less intense, and the sting in her wrist no longer felt like she wore a bracelet of heated thorns. Her breathing slowed, and she tried to usher along the process by breathing in and out, hearing Chris instructing her to do so. As she did so, she could hear Chris speaking in her ear, she wasn't really paying attention to him, but she could hear things like, "I'll never be late again," and "Tomorrow I'll make sure you're not alone when this happens," and so on. Part of Clary thought that it didn't matter if he was there or not, the pain was the same, but he did keep her calmer, especially in the minutes before it actually happened, when the panic would build in her chest.
After a few minutes of just breathing, Clary could only feel a slight ache in her chest, which would soon fade, and her wrist was now only a small burn to her. She could feel that Chris had also relaxed a bit, his shocks now only small electric touches, as if he were touching a door knob after he rubbed his hair on a balloon. She was now more aware of her position on him, and realized that he was still wearing snow pants, which urged her to ask, "So, where did you go that was so important it took more than five hours?" Her tone was playfully accusing.
He raised an eyebrow, noticing her tone, but dropped it and sat back more comfortably, adjusting her in his grip. Clary felt like she should be embarrassed about being held by him like this, but she still felt Sebastian's way of thinking in her, and it said that this was perfectly fine. Clary still thought like Clary, but sometimes Sebastian's thinking influenced her decisions.
Chris was playing with her hair, tugging on it, his chin was tilted up and his eyes were looking at the ceiling, Clary's was facing the wall in front of her. Both weren't looking at each other, as if not looking at each other would help not recognize their positions.
He opened his mouth to say, "It took me so long because we're actually a bit far off from the nearest town, I was already coming back, but then I looked at the time and practically ran to the nearest corner to use that trinket I told you about, do you remember?" Clary nodded her head, back in Saudi Arabia, he had told her about it. "Well I used it to transport me directly in front of the house."
"Wait," Clary suddenly realized, "It's already been a week?" A whole week, today, she'd been spending with Chris. It was, weird, yet not weird. She felt like it went by so fast, yet not fast at all. "So hold up, what did you go out to the bittering cold of Russia for?"
He chuckled, a low rumbling she felt in his stomach, "I went to get something for you. I guess I could have gotten it through the cupboards, but I felt like I should have personally have gotten them."
"Gotten what?" She was suddenly very curious. She stood up, and Clary didn't notice the quick sad look he had when she got up, like he was beginning to like their little seating arrangement. However, he wiped the look off his face and stood up as well, leading her towards the wall where the door would be, directly behind the couch.
There were three large plastic white bags there, and when Chris unveiled what was within them, she could hardly hold back her sharp intake of breath. He had gotten art supplies. Now normally, that would sound lame, but to Clary, art supplies sounded the same to her as a five hundred dollar spending trip at the mall would sound to any other girl. There were tubs of paint of many different colors, and the paint was a very good brand. There were paintbrushes of all different sizes, another easel, a see through pallet, sketchpads, pencils, erasers, charcoal, watercolors, rulers, oil pastels, canvas paper, markers, special scissors, fountain pens, white out, and more than Clary's little artist mind could ever want.
She shrieked in joy and couldn't contain her glee as she went through everything, a large smile plastered on her face. Chris watched her off to the side, leaving her to her world where all this junk made sense to her, because he sure as hell had no clue what half of this was for.
Clary ran up to him, and asked, "How did you get all of this?" Chris smiled as Clary looked at him in fascination. "I asked around town, eventually I felt like I had enough to take back to you." He answered her casually, as if buying his sister a ton of art supplies happened every day.
"Thank you!" Clary squealed as she sat amongst her treasure, too high on excitement to care about anything else.
Chris stared at her, amazed at how this made her so happy, and happy with himself that he was the one who caused her happiness. As he stared, he asked her, "Does it still hurt?"
Clary, who was so absorbed in her presents, was taken aback a bit, confused at his question. "What?"
"Your rune," he said this while tapping his own wrist, "Does it still hurt?"
"Oh," Clary did a quick inventory of her own body, observing how it felt, and finding nothing out of the ordinary. "No, I'm fine now, why do you ask?"
Chris walked towards her, leaned down to reach where she kneeled, and fingered her hair, "No reason, but do you notice that your hair is becoming slightly back to the way it was?" He said this with an air of sad nostalgia, as if he wasn't necessarily happy about that.
She grabbed her hair, and inspected the ends, they were curling just a bit, more wavy than her natural curls. "No, I hadn't noticed, I guess as the rune wears off, I slowly change back." She said this as if it didn't matter, because frankly, she didn't really care right now how her hair was. She shrugged, and then indicated towards the supplies, "Hey, I know this is rough because you're the one who got me this stuff, but could you help me take them to my room?"
Chris looked at her as she had offended him, "Are underestimated my strength? Don't think I can handle carrying this up the stairs or something? Do you realize who you're talking to?" He made a big show of shoving everything back into the bags, and taking one in each hand, leaving the last one for Clary to handle.
The walked up the stairs, easily, and Clary knew that even she could have carried all three of the bags up to her room, no problem. As soon as the bags were put down, she picked up a sketch pad, and took out her Prismacolor pencils.
"Out, out! I need to draw something, I can my fingers itching to get the feel of a pencil beneath them." She shoved Chris out, while he pretending that he couldn't walk or hear, so Clary spent five minutes having to drag him by the front of his shirt.
When he was out, he told her, "Is this the thanks I get after being this nice to you?" His mouth was twisted in a smirk, so Clary felt no guilt. "I need thinking space, you take up that thinking space."
Before she shut the door, he said, "Does that mean you think about me all the time? How sweet. I'll be in my room in you need me." She stuck her head out of the doorway and yelled at him, "That was NOT what I meant! You know that Chris! Chris!" she watched his back as he walked down the hall to his room, and shut the door.
Clary closed hers too, and walked back to her sketch pad on her bed. Her sketchpad. Her bed. Her room. Since when had she been able to call any of this hers?
Sitting down, she opened to the first page, not yet knowing what to draw. She turned to look at herself in the vanity mirror on the desk, and stared at her reflection. She remembered something from long ago, a question she had made her mother when she was young.
Mommy, why don't you ever draw me?
Clary suddenly had an idea, and set out to work, her fingers knowing what to do before her mind realized. She was going to do something she never did before, never liked before, because it was hard for her, and because it never ended the way she would have liked. But now was different, now she could.
As she drew for almost an hour, Clary drew her own portrait of herself.
From before she drew on the rune.
Turns out it wasn't as easy as she originally thought, and Clary ended up not actually drawing her life like version of herself, but more cartoonish. Her large green eyes were more lighter than she thought they actually were, and her small almost anime like nose was cute, but you could tell that it was her. Her red orange hair swirled around her, as if a breeze were tossing it back, her face showed an easy smile, one that said, 'everything's okay.' She drew herself from the stomach up, her left hand reaching up into her hair, fingers shoved in it, her right hand clutching Jace's ring around her neck.
She made sure to add plenty of freckles, and she wore something totally Clary-like, a red hoodie. Everything was a burst of color, her hair, her eyes, the shade of her skin, which was peach mixed with darker shades here and here to highlight my cheekbones and shadowed areas.
She was pretty proud of it, because it had to be perfect. She signed it in the lower right corner with her fountain pen, and carefully tore it out of the sketchpad. She carefully, as silent as she was taught, eased her way out of the room, and checked Chris's room, sure enough, she could tell he was still in there, and as if she were a ghost, made her way downstairs, and into the kitchen.
Clary thought hard. Was she really going to do this, after all this time, after all the trust that she had built with Chris. But there was no doubt about it, it had been a week, and she had to, even though Sebastian's mind raged against hers, she was still in control. She opened a cupboard, and placed her drawing inside.
And when she closed it, she pictured the desk back in the Institute, and the top drawer where she knew Maryse often looked through.
Opening the cupboard again, she sighed in relief, when she saw the drawing was no longer there.
But that's when she heard Chris behind her, and in a voice that held both question and curiosity, he asked, "What are you doing?"
Had she not have Sebastian's qualities, she would have jumped, flinched, something that would make him suspect of her, that would make her turn around to face him with a face that said, 'how did you see?' But when she turned around, she fixed her expression into one of a bored face, someone who was passing the time.
"I was going to look for something to eat, but I'm not really in the mood for anything, got any suggestions?" She asked, taking on a tone that hid all of her nervousness, and that not even she could believe she could possess.
He looked at her funny, though didn't seem to think anything of it. "Well I don't know, I really don't care much about what I eat, I'll basically take anything that's given to me."
"How about some of that hot chocolate, or hot cocoa or whatever it was from when we were in Paris?" she suddenly said, the idea occurring to her in an instant.
"Sure, I'll have some too. I thought you'd still be in your room, painting or drawing, or whatever. You know, something, artsy." Chris asked her, "I didn't even hear you come down the stairs."
"Well, I do have your characteristics, I train with you, I live with you, you're my brother," she said rattling off some reasons. "But yeah, I drew a bit, but I can't seem to find the inspiration to make something worth putting on a canvas, so I thought maybe a snack would spark something."
She turned back to the cabinet, pictured the delicious drink he had shown her, and soon pulled out two mugs of steaming hot cocoa. They both sat on stools at the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room, and Chris had picked up the T.V remote, flipping through channels until Clary's eyes sparked at one.
"Wait, wait, wait!" She flapped her hand at his which was pressing down on the control, "I think I've heard of this show."
They both watched as a thin, tall women with long, straight dark brown hair sat at a computer, typing to a teenager who seemed to be in an underground facility, typing back to the women in secret.
"What's the show called?" Chris questioned.
"It's called Nikita, it's about this women, named Nikita, who was a troubled teenager, and was rescued from death row by a secret U.S. agency known only as Division, who trained her as a spy and assassin. She was eventually betrayed by the only people she thought she could trust. Now, after three years in hiding, Nikita is seeking retribution and making it clear to her former boss, Percy and her former friends Michael and Birkhoff that she will stop at nothing to expose and destroy their covert operation. Division still recruits and trains other young people, faking their deaths and erasing the fact that they exited and turning them into cold and efficient killers. One of these new recruits is Alex, a pretty girl with a pretty bad past. But Alex purposely brought herself into Division so that she could spy for Nikita. There's awesome action in which Nikita kicks ass while wearing killer outfits, which, now that I think about it, is the main reason as to why I watch it." Clary rattled off the show, only because her nerved were still tightly wound due to the fact the Chris had almost caught her, and it was only sheer luck that he had got there seconds after she had sent her drawing. She felt like she was treading on thin ice.
"Sounds like a pretty interesting show." Chris watched the screen as Nikita did some awesome fighting moves on her own against guys twice her size, and in a dress, too. "I bet you could do that, you wouldn't look as awesome, but you could."
She slightly slugged him in the arm, "Hey, I could look like that if I wanted to, but I don't, because that's not my style."
Chris raised his eyebrows at her, "Oh? And what is your style? Dressing like a gypsy while getting kidnapped by Arabian warlocks?"
The thin ice she thought she was treading on turned into solid ground as she punched him, hard. "That was not my fault! There were people watching, and you kind of intimidated me with that whole, 'those warlocks do things that not even I want to face,' thing. Speaking of which, what was that about? The great Chris is actually a scaredy cat?"
He scoffed, "Me? Scared? Only if I were removed of my good looks, skills, put in a different body, and were born in a different dimension, and even then, there's only a slight chance, very tiny, of me ever being scared."
"Oh, right. My bad, it was because of me, alright. If that's your excuse, I'll accept it," Clary spoke in a mocking tone.
Chris grabbed her wrist, and twisted it behind her back, his voice trying to take on an intimidating tone, but his face was failing at hiding a large grin plastered on his face.
"Take it back Clary…." He wasn't twisting hard enough to harm her, only so that it was uncomfortable.
She tried to snarl back at him, a smile fighting its way onto her, "Never, I said what I meant."
He grabbed her other wrist, holding both hands with only one of his, and began to poke at her sides, with each poke he said, "Take. It. Back. Take. It. Back. Cla. Ry."
Clary gritted her teeth in order to stop her giggling from breaking through, only letting out puffs of air and smiles, wriggling around and trying to break away from his grip. It wasn't that ticklish, he hadn't even found her weak spot.
He tickled more forcefully, getting her ribcage and abdomen, and then his ribcage poked right underneath her armpits, not in it, but at the top of her ribs on the side.
Damnit, he found it. Clary couldn't stop it this time, she started giggling uncontrollably, a bit embarrassed and conscious of the fact that she was doing so, but she couldn't help it.
"St- stoppp," She sputtered through her laughing, tears had come to her eyes, and her white hair had fallen all over, and she stirred in her seat so much, she slipped out of her stool, and fell onto her knees, Chris leaning over her behind her, still holding onto her wrists and tickling her like a madman.
"Not unless you take it back." Chris seemed to find it funny how her breath hitched whenever he tickled her weak spot, "Oh, so you don't like it when someone tickled you, here." He practically harassed her ribcage.
Clary twisted around, getting him on his back, and just when she thought that he had released her, and that she was free to run away, he lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders, and forced her to the ground, both of them laughing.
Chris wasn't really looking at her, laughter glazing his eyes over, so Clary took the opportunity to look at him, regretting it when a bit of guilt slip through, and she quickly sobered up when she remembered what she did that counted as betrayal.
He noticed that she stopped his laughing, and looked her over. Clary stared back at him, both of them analyzing each other, in a comfortable silence, reading each other's faces.
"What's going on inside your head right now?" He asked in a hushed, curious tone, like he really wanted to know what was inside her thoughts, her mind, her worried, her dreams. Everything.
Clary looked at him with a placid expression, and decided to say something related to the truth.
"I was thinking, about us. How much, trust, and things we've built so far." She found it strange how it easily she could tell him that, yet she found that she liked that she could.
Chris's eyes had gotten a sparkle in them, that Sebastian sparkle, that demon sparkle. He was going from big bro Chris, to you-know-who Sebastian. Clary could feel the Sebastian in her build up too, Clary's reasoning for why this, all of this, was so, so, wrong, disappear as her inner demon threw all of this away. All her reasons were petty, small, compared to the good things that could come out of it. Chris's eyes had gotten black, just as she could bet hers were as well.
"You know," Chris asked, confidently, "I think you're rune interrupted something back in Saudi Arabia."
"Oh did it?" Clary asked, in a voice as confident as his, though she hid that confidence in a face that said, 'oh really now?' On the outside she was calm collected, even on the inside, but her inner conscious, the one that she would have listened to a week ago, was cowering in fright, nervousness. Of course, she didn't let that coward take over her.
Chris let his eyes close halfway, "You remember what I told you, just pull back, if you don't like it."
She nodded her head, "Trust me, that part, I remember." Chris pulled down to her, one hand on the floor next to her shoulder, the other carefully perched on her collarbone, not restraining her, but just to feel that's she's there.
Clary didn't know whether or not to continue this, but as he drew closer, Clary found her chin tilting upwards, her eyes fluttering shut, and she felt the warmth of his lips on hers, she could tell he wanted more, but she kept it at that. Breathing his scent, he smelled like newly fallen snow, something that could be good and bad, something that could be appreciated by some, but not others. Some looked at him in awe, others in frustration and despair.
He was rough yet kept himself soft, and she knew that this required a lot of willpower for him, so she respected him for that, she lifted one arm, and placed it on his back, keeping it there gently, Chris took that as a sign that he could keep going, advance in his play, and she let him, he kissed with more force, and Clary made sure to not do anything that would make him think she wanted more. That's what she feared, that she would want more, not her, but her inner demon.
His tongue probed her lips, asking permission for her to open up, and that's where Clary stopped. She pulled back, much to his disappointment. Yet he didn't oblige her anymore.
His hand was still on her collarbone, and he traced it gently with one finger, trailing up her neck, curling up her cheek and around her cheekbone, and settling to the middle of her lips. Clary unraveled herself from him, and she sat up, on her knees, but Chris hadn't moved much except for sitting back on his knees as well to let her get up. They were only inched apart, and they both showed no sign of emotion on either of their faces.
Chris stared at her, and Clary didn't have to think like him to know what he was waiting for. He wanted an answer, she hadn't pulled away, but how did she feel…..
She closed her eyes, and listened to the rush of her blood in her ears, just realizing that she could feel her heartbeat move as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Leaning forward, she rested her chin on Chris's right shoulder, her hands to her side, his as well.
She took a deep breath, what did she feel?
Despite the guilt of practically cheating on Jace, which was a war she could feel would explode in her mind later, but now felt like such a puny matter, she didn't feel necessarily bad about it.
But was that her, or her demonic sense?
Would she feel the same after the rune disappeared, if it did?
She pulled back, opened her eyes, and tried to tell Chris through her eyes, that she did not know yet, but in the end, she offered him a smile. In which he smiled back, a true, genuine smile. Not the ones that Valentine had showed him how to use to fake emotion that he never had.
But a smile that he started to use when Clary came into his life.
Chris POV
He had asked Clary to sleep with him tonight, and she agreed, much to his pleasure, on the conditions that they would just sleep. And he was okay with that, completely fine, after today, he had realized how much Clary had actually come to finally trust him, even slightly.
So that night, as they slept side to side, their shoulders barely touching, even though his flesh craved for the feel of her skin on his, it was what she wanted, and he would allow that, she was like him, after all. He was sure that sooner or later she would want him too. He wouldn't force her though, he had long ago learned that forcing her would only turn her away.
However, that was before, before she had drawn the one rune she had made that had benefited him, if he used force now, would her mind draw to him like it does, make her feel what he does, want what he does, or does she still think in her own way?
He wouldn't push it, they were too close now, and things were so good, he couldn't risk it. For as long as he could, he watched as the moonlight coming through the window danced on her skin, illuminating her beauty, because to him, she was beautiful, she stood out, not like any other person in the world. Her hair was loose, and around her head like a halo, and she looked like a goddess. She was sound asleep, and Chris moved close to her, careful not to wake her, and kissed her gently on the forehead, and then faintly on the lips. Her mouth twitched a bit, but other than that, she remained asleep. He even thought he could see a smile on her face.
That morning, he didn't know when he had fallen asleep, he awoke on his side, and Clary's arm was draped over his stomach, her chest to his back, and he felt warm. He touched her arm, and realized she was shivering, cold. He turned around, so that he faced her, and pulled her into his arms, warming her as much as he could. Held her as tight as he could without awaking her.
Like he never saw her put that drawing in the cupboard.
Lacie: OOOOOOOOHH O: Yay! N button is fixed.
Chris: what took you so long to update?
Clary: Many people were waiting for you!
Lacie: I was going to update earlier, like DAYS earlier, even yesterday, but since school started, teachers have given homework, and my parents don't like it when I stay forever in my room.
Clary: I feel a rant coming in
Lacie: Okay, so my parents hate it when I'm in my room for more than several hours, but that's mainly because of homework for me, so yesterday, I decided, hey, why not go upstairs, take my laptop with me, and type in the presence of my parents so that they don't get mad at me for being in my room for so long. But you know what happens? My dad gets ANGRY because I sat there typing for an hour and a half, saying "all I hear you do is type type type" WHAT THE HECK I got upstairs so that you don't complain, and yet you still complain! I'm not even on the internet! I'm just typing! I do my homework, I don't do drugs, don't drink, don't party all day with friends, don't spend my time texting, don't stay up all night watching tv, none of that, YET YOU COMPLAIN?
Clary: You are preaching to the choir! :)
Clary & Lacie: *talk about parents*
Chris: Anyway…. Thanks for reading this, and I hope, well not really, I don't care, as long as I still get scenes with Clary, that you guys review.
Lacie: For every review I get for this chapter, I will post Chris saying that he loves you. So like if your name is like, idk, mary, he'll say, I love you mary.
Chris: When was this decided?!
Lacie: JUST NOW