Some more canon scenes- last two are extremely recent.
Sometimes, Blake wondered why Lily had picked him out of everyone, knowing that there were Shadowhunters far more qualified to take his place.
They often sat in alleyways and talked, their words a little too harsh to be considered affectionate, but he supposed it was just how they spoke. Their first meeting hadn't gone well, with Blake giving her a light scar on her cheek and Lily using a knife to cut his palm as he tried to block her. Then she had paused, her eyes - she had striking, fascinating eyes - narrowing at him before she started to interrogate. He had no choice but to answer with the truth and she...she was new and gorgeous and Blake had never seen a girl quite like her before in his life.
She had runes that laced her arms and lovely features that were so unfae-like, he could not help but stare in wonder. Unlike all the faeries he knew, she had warm brown eyes with long lashes and full, rouged lips that accentuated her wicked smile. Her hair was straight and black and it waterfalled down her back and had a sheen in the moonlight.
People didn't kiss in the Unseelie, not just for fun, and he struggled to keep up with the standards that he found strange and unfamiliar. Often, she tightened a gloved hand around his wrist, watching him with eyes of a hunter and it took all of his self control not to lash out and fight back when it was all he knew and all the Unseelie had taught him. Instead, he stayed still, frozen almost, and stared as she tilted her head towards him and smiled in the way that confused him. She was foreign and he was more than interested.
"Blake," she said sharply to get his attention. He hadn't been able to tell her his faerie name, so she gave him a mundane one and he took a quick liking to it.
He raised his eyes. "Yes?"
"What is the Unseelie Court like?" Lily reached for him and tugged at his arms to encourage him to put them around her. She was tall, almost as tall as he was and he didn't have to look down at her as he talked. And, for a moment, he debated over answering but she had made it clear before that her questions were less like questions and more like demands and she wouldn't rest until he answered.
"Harsh, but I'm invisible there," he answered, his expression a mask as he stared at her. "I never get into trouble like a good portion of the people there. The King's children take pleasure in seeing the lower fae suffer."
Her eyes grew into slits. "But you're pure. How are you invisible?"
Shrugging carefully, he pulled one of his arms from around her to touch her hair lightly, watching it. "I know. My family is pure but we never took jobs in high up positions to reduce the risk of being noticed. It's not like we weren't respectable people."
She tilted his head up, putting one of her fingers under his chin and her nail dug into his skin. "Respectable? I see nothing respectable about a faerie that slinks off to a mundane world."
Quickly, he grabbed her wrist to pull her hand away. "I'll show you respectable. Don't push me."
Laughing, she tugged her hand out of his grasp, closing her hand around the collar of his shirt instead. "C'mon, Blake. Don't bitch out on me. We all know you love a good fight."
Instinctively, his hand went to a dagger at his side, his expression darkening in anticipation. "You know I'll probably win."
"Oh, I doubt it."
Although he guessed that she was younger than he was, she was far fiercer in the way that made him always stand on edge. He was used to the persuasion of faeries and their magic when they spoke in low, alluring tones but somehow, he could not help but be more inclined to abide by her requests and questions. She growled at him and his posture stiffened before he allowed himself to respond with a playful hiss. People in the Unseelie never played the way she did and he often forgot that she was a Shadowhunter.
"If I win," she said, taking a few steps back with a smirk pulling at her mouth, "You tell me some secrets. If I lose, I'll buy you that dagger you've been wanting for the past month. Deal?"
A hint of excitement flared up in his eyes at the challenge and the hilt of a knife settled into his hand. "Deal."
"Now, just work with me," Aspen muttered, frustrated when the horse trotted away from him. "I don't care if you don't like me. I don't even like you that much. But work with me, please."
Following the horse with one of the faerie apples in his hand, he walked behind it silently, trying to not scare it off. He assumed it was just his mood that was keeping the horse at bay and he took a slow breath to calm his nerves. The horse, paused to graze leisurely and Aspen approached it carefully, running a hand across its coat. It much more elegant than the horses in the mundane world and it seemed smarter - too smart to listen to him easily and he had been following it for longer than he'd like.
Neighing, the horse stamped at the ground, shifting. Stepping back, Aspen pushed away the urge to snap at it angrily, annoyed that it didn't seem to do what he wanted. Impatiently, he set his jaw and reached for a vial from his pocket of a thick, red liquid. Unscrewing the cap, he poured it over the side of the apple, careful to not let it run over his fingers.
"C'mere," he said and forced his voice to grow gentle till it was a coo. He stuck out the apple, catching the horse's attention. "That's it. Look what I have for you. That's good. It's for you."
Slowly, the horse seemed to be less frightened by his tone, taking the apple swiftly from his hand to eat.
It was funny, since Aspen had remembered using tricks to get people, not horses, to join the Hunt. From offering them food and drink of the fae, he had once used sleazy ways to ensure that the people couldn't leave. Now, though, they weren't so desperate for new recruits so he could spend his time doing other things.
Gradually, the horse's coat began to grow sleeker and darker until it was a smudge against the shadows of the forest. It whinnied and turned its head to Aspen, its blazing eyes on his.
"That's it," Aspen murmured, coaxing the horse towards him.
Its eyes seemed to glow, burning bright from the red magic of the Hunt. The burning of Gwyn's blood, Aspen had always referred to it and it was nearly true. Gwyn seemed to live inside all of them in the Hunt. Extending a hand, Aspen ran his hand down the horse's mane, encouraging it to follow him as he started back to the forest.
"Come on, Eculeus," he said, finding it a fitting name. "Let's get you cleaned up."
"My...My name-"
"We don't have all day to run the tests. Please state your name and Institute affiliation for the board."
"I'm Connor...Kodeki-...Sorry, it's Kode, hyphen, Ký."
An important looking woman in robes wrote down a few notes on a paper, the quill scratching at the surface and Connor bit his tongue to keep himself from wincing. The air behind the glass was heavy like fog and he inhaled deeply only to find that his lungs strained for more oxygen. A table of weapons lay a few meters to his side, but the thought of picking one up made him feel sick. Bile burned the back of his throat and he kept his eyes averted to the tiled ground. It was like being under scrutiny, on trial, like he was a criminal and they stared with disapproving glances. He hadn't passed the Academy with high honors and the hum of their unwelcome stares was more than obvious.
The head woman whispered something to the side at a man, two lines of lipstick hissing menacing words that made Connor burn with unease. Slowly, he straightened when he felt eyes on him again, feeling their gazes singe into his skin.
"And you've already taken three other tests, one two days ago, and two yesterday," the woman continued, her quill rested in an inkwell. "Will you restate them for the board?"
"Y-yes, of course," he replied shakily, forcing himself to calm before nodding. "One was a language proficiency test where I tested my fluency in Russian, Swedish, Vietnamese, Spanish, Enochian, Chthonian, and simple words of Latin, Sino-Tibetan, and Greek. I scored high marks on all of them. The second test was runes - a simple memory test, really - and the third was accuracy without runes, consisting of throwing knives and archery. I excelled in archery and was proficient with the knives-"
"Thank you, that's enough." The woman held up a hand to silence him and his voice faded into the steady ring of the room. "Today, we want to see you fight. Please, direct yourself to the table to your left and pick your weapon of choice."
He didn't have to think as he made his way over to a sword, the hilt cold and uncomfortable in his hand. His fingers closed around it carefully, as if it were something precious, and he swallowed. The lacing of black runes curled comfortably around his wrist but the harsh lines of a red mourning rune was clear against right palm. It was a scar he forced himself to look at at night, knowing it would never fade and it did little to ease what an iratze could not fix. Tearing his eyes away from the blade, he glanced back at the people that were sheltered behind the large pane of glass, awaiting for another instruction.
"This test is not meant to be easy. You may not come out unscathed, but your skills will be deeply considered when it comes to judging your fit for the Scholomance," the woman started, gesturing over at a few gold wooden boxes at the edge of the room. "You may choose to stop at any time, but stopping will guarantee a decline from the school."
Connor stiffened at the boxes. He had read about the Pyxis boxes in the Academy and how they had been used for training at one point, but the death of a student following the use of one lessened their popularity for education. His hesitation must have been obvious because the board shifted in their seat and their impatience seemed tangible.
"Whenever you're ready, Shadowhunter."
Her voice grated across the room and, after a second of regret, he stepped forward to unlock the first box.