Jillessa Heronstair's Characters: Khoi, Emily, Ash, Nick

SilverJem5's Characters: Mason, Steff

My Characters: Daemon, Aspen

~~Khoi and Emily~~

If Khoi was familiar with anything, it was being granted a second chance.

He really didn't feel as if he did anything to be punished but Emily's stare of complete and utter astonishment of horror was enough to make him feel as if he were damned. After he would confess about his latest 'mistake', she would sob and tell him to get out and he knew he deserved every second of her berating. But he also stood confused. He didn't understand why she was hurt and all he knew was that she was, and he had suddenly become the enemy. Why was cheating a sin?

It wasn't like he liked them like he liked her, but it was like she took every single god damn thing to heart and he wanted her to tell her to snap out of it. But she...she would give him this look as if he was a monster. And then she would soften. And he'd fall in love again, though he knew it wasn't real love and that they were just a sugar coated example. And he thought that no matter what he did, everything would be okay.

There were times, though, when things were good. She'd make him laugh and, in turn, he made her smile. Emily was ridiculous sometimes, in a good way, and she said things that made the corners of his mouth up involuntarily and he would grin. There had been a time he had asked her what he would be like if he was a girl and she had thought about it for a long time. Finally, she spoke up, saying that he would be a 'Complete weirdo player of an Asian who made good food'. He, on the other hand, found himself 'offended' and gave her a flat expression. And then, without meaning to, he had laughed and laid back on the couch, thinking about how right she was. He was a player. Mostly.

But those were the good days and they had become rare.

And then there was the complication of Emily.

Emily trusted him. She trusted him more than she wanted because she always had a weakness for a good looking face and charm. Khoi was everything she imagined and more. And she liked him. And she reckoned he would like her if he knew he was like her. And he did. He was smart. Hot. Funny.

But trustworthy? That was questionable.

She had forgiven him every time he had cheated even if she knew she shouldn't have. Because he would keep using her. But when he would say that he wanted her back, it truly, truly sounded like he meant it.

And he did.

He just found himself lacking the control. The self control to keep his eyes averted and his hands to himself. But even so, he was her weakness and she kept dishing out second chances.

Second chances to her heart.

~~Mason~~

Mason found that he disliked a great many things.

He disliked it when people slacked. He disliked it when people annoyed him. He disliked it when ichor would sting his hands and when Church got into the weapons cabinets and when he wasn't the absolute top of everyone. He disliked it when he wasn't respected.

Now, he hated Downworlders.

They were rude and slippery and liars and all the things that he disliked in one. Though people had said they weren't all like that, he knew they were just blind. After all, he knew that he was the most qualified, the smartest, and the only person who could simply do his job. Everyone else had all these feelings in the way of their work and he thought they were ridiculous. He didn't understand why everyone always was so personal about everything.

He didn't mind killing.

He would prefer not to, but rogue vampires and wolves deserved to die just as much as the demons that roamed the streets. His knife grew to be his best friend, and his only one, and it was practical. More practical than a hunting partner because it wouldn't hesitate at the last moment and was certain. He hated the type of people that hesitated. It showed people were unsure. Unprepared.

People called him heartless.

He knew they thought he was cruel.

But he knew he was like them. Only better. Because he didn't sympathize with anything and knew what his duties were. Many people disliked him, but his hatred for the impurity of the world was more than enough for him to overcome it.

There was a common misunderstanding between hate and dislike.

~~Daemon~~

He had never been anything special.

Always quiet and content with his life, Daemon kept his mouth shut and preferred to read rather than converse with people in his neighborhood. Besides, living in Larissa- a Greek city- any business of his that he brought up would become the business of the world and that was the last thing he wanted. In fact, he didn't want to be noticed in fear that he would say something wrong or do something that he shouldn't.

So he lived his life in suppressive silence.

He didn't mind, though.

He was entertained- or rather entranced- by the passing figures by his window. He would see people with wings and pointed ears. He would see wolves running along the length of the night and people with three eyes, cat ears, and hooves like horses. At first he thought he was going crazy, and then he remembered he lived in Greece, He was used to all the religious and weirdo rumours circulating around so he assumed it was the lore and mythology getting to his head. Also, no matter how much sleep he got, he was always tired and would daydream; another answer to his 'hallucinations'.

It wasn't until later that he realized they were real.

Faeries, warlocks, vampires, werewolves: the whole grand slam.

He thought his supposed 'biological father' was crazy. His father talked about something called 'the Sight' and 'Shadowhunters'. Damon talked about a local therapist who had space for more patients. He knew he was adopted but when his 'biological' father came to him, rambling about how his mother was part Siren, Daemon started to worry. He had looked different from all the kids his age but...he never thought about it. Nor did he think much of the creatures that roamed the streets.

So he took to covering up, resorting to dark jeans, dark shoes, a dark jacket, dark shirts, and dark gloves and growing his hair out just slightly so it brushed his forehead and served to cover the odd shape of his eyes. He just didn't want to look wrong and like something weird. He didn't care if people saw his outfit but there was something about the way people stared at him and into his eyes and he saw them judging.

So he covered everything that said 'Daemon' up with his self consciousness.

He didn't want to stand out.

He didn't even want to be special.

~~Ash and Nick~~

Ash had been beautiful.

Not that she wasn't always beautiful at every moment over everyday but the way her hair was pulled back and wrapped around a bun, curling pieces draped down to the middle of her back, and the veil shielding her face from him made his heart stop for a long moment. The dress, hugging her tight and fluffing out at her waist was gorgeous but he wasn't looking at her dress; simply at her.

It had taken him so long to get her back.

After getting drugged to sleep with the faerie, Nick felt as if she had lost her.

She had broken up with him first, slapped him, and left him broken. In rage, she had even tried to kill him. But she didn't- partly thanks to his best man- and he was overwhelmed at the fact that she agreed to marry him after they made up and smoothed over the misunderstandings.

Their relationship had never been a fluffy one, though from the way it was described, it sounded like something out of a soap opera. To everyone, they were simply the crazy couple that had a hard time being in the same room together. And to everyone, he was simply the lovesick guy after the girl that wouldn't give him time. And to everyone, she was the slut who slept with everyone in her grief. But to him and to Ash, they were simply two people who just...fit. And even though there had been a time when things weren't looking bright and they were left separated, it didn't matter.

The wedding had been a simple one. Everyone from the Institute was invited and they held it in the expanse of the backyard, decorating with flowers and cloths and ribbons they had gotten from some mundane store.

But the decor didn't matter.

Because things finally worked out.

And they were finally together.

(With a baby) - They would laugh about the surprise later.

But for once in a long while, things were actually looking up.

~~Aspen~~

There was something empty and cold and dark that seemed to settle in him like a parasite.

So he looked for compromise.

He grew accustomed to using people for a temporary relief from the emptiness. So he would distract himself with a game of the Wild Hunt and take to playing with them and toying with them at his dispense. They all drew away from him at first but he always convinced them. Always. Or at least he had never once met anyone that he didn't get his way with.

Beyond hissed breaths of air and slick skin beneath his fingertips, he'd pull them close and pretend that he actually liked them. That he wanted them for something more than a plaything to satisfy his amusement. And they'd all believe him and he loved to drive them mad. Mad with anger when he'd hurt them and push them away. Mad with desperation when he'd offer things with his eyes that he didn't dare speak aloud. Mad with lust as he manipulated them in all the right ways until they would succumb to his raunchy attitude and look up with hooded eyes at his smug, smug expression.

But they had all been easy.

What he really liked were the faeries that took time to coax.

The ones that weren't already halfway mad like he was.

Aspen was confident. He always had been. Regarding faeries as the perfect race, he had grown to see himself as perfect. Tall, slim, and dangerous, he was lethal. And pure, with shimmering, translucent, black wings that were lined with silver, he knew that he was a pedigree fighter. He won his fights, spilling blood around him like a halo and he was an avenging angel. People were sickened by it and his carelessness for the life and health of others. But he...He regarded violence and despair as a dance. A lovely dance that he took part in, using knives, bows and swords to win and be remembered.

He liked evaluating people. And then approaching them. He always had a snide attitude slapped on his face and a dark glint in his eyes that rendered him untouchable. Aspen liked to act dumb and all fluffy and flamboyant, making people trust him. They would pass him off as something to ignore and anything but a threat. That was the way he liked he.

He also liked playing the mysterious, dark character. More so than the former. He'd be mean, then nice, then mean, then nice again. And always flirtatious. And for a few months that the person grew to him and flocked to him, he didn't feel so empty. He felt admired, feared, and respected, though he wasn't sure what was better.

But by the end of his sessions, when he would break them.

Taunt them.

Hurt them.

He realized everything was empty again.

And reveled in the dark.

~~Steff~~

From the time she was cursed till the time she had arrived at the New York Institute, Steff knew not to play with fire.

But no matter how much she tried to avoid stoking the flame, her brother would push her back down and she would find herself burned. Sometimes, it would be in a literal sense and he'd order her, as he had once, to take a hot pan and press her hand against it until there were tears running down her face and she would be submissive and respectful. Just as he liked her to be. And sometimes it would be in the emotional sense when she found her feelings singed to nothing and it would hurt. Because she had no one to turn to.

And sometimes there'd be fire in her dreams and she would be scared.

She tried to be brave but every time her courage would falter and she'd find herself in a heap of tears and sweat when she woke up. And sometimes, when she dreamed of the demon that had cursed her, the flames would grow hot and she'd try to draw away but they'd keep coming and coming and coming and burning and burning until she was screaming.

Her brother would order her to shut up, oblivious as to what she was going to.

She doubted he cared anyway.

In fact, she knew he didn't.

So when she went to the Institute, she was...relieved to be away from her home. It had been fine at first, as the library had many books to choose from but she found that she used it as a refuge rather than a place to enjoy her studies. She had started to bore of the books and yearn for something more.

And then Cole had happened.

He hadn't been as bad as her brother, in a sense, but he would be manipulative and take a sick pleasure out of her pain. He would order her to do things and make sure everything was in order or else he would be angry and smug. Steff felt claustrophobic, knowing she couldn't go back to her home but not being able to leave the Institute. Cole made sure she couldn't.

Though slowly he grew more...forgiving, the flames of his anger would still burn deep into her mind and the nightmares would come back. They weren't as bad at first, but they were still there. And her demons would come back. But somehow, she managed to stand it all. In fact, she had started to become used to it. Numb to it, even. And though at times it would hurt, it reminded her of the fire.

And like a person was attracted to sin, she found herself drawn to the flames.

~fin~