Very short, but they will fester in my documents if I don't put them up.
The howl of moon-summoned werewolves pierces the night air, but Blake barely seems to notice them. His clothes are already suited for the cold and his cloak is still draped over his shoulders, but Lily leaning into him is enough to keep the both of them warm. She sits between his legs, letting her back fit neatly against his chest so they can both look out into the darkness, and he tries to ignore the scent of her perfume every time he inhales. His senses are already heightened, being in a realm that is hostile to people like him, but she is always keen on contributing to how overwhelming things can be.
His arms are loose around her. Though she's biting and critical more often than not, even she allows them some soft silence, at times. Slowly, he is unlearning the hundreds of habits that have kept him sharp and learning a hundred different ways to yield to temptations. Her hand grazes his, manicured nails scratching lightly against his skin before she closes her fingers around his wrist. If anyone else had done so, he would have recoiled away and lashed out with the single reason of not knowing how else he was supposed to act. Instead, he lets it happen, allowing her to scent imprint in his thoughts.
"What duties are you shirking to be here with me?" she asks, breaking the silence and turning her head so he can catch a glimpse of her eyes. Her face is obscured enough that he can't see her features, but he already imagines her expression. She is someone pleased with the attention he gives her, knowing that he is too fascinated to sever their ties. And why would he, when she offers a world of opportunity that the Unseelie can never give him?
"What duties are you neglecting?" he asks instead, earning a bright laugh from her in return. Another cry of a lone wolf pierces the air and Lily squeezes his wrist, resting her head back against his chest. She doesn't enlighten him, but she doesn't tease him again about him prioritizing her over Court duties either. He is sacrificing everything for the chance to sit with her on that rooftop, she knows, and it isn't something she's willing to make him second guess so easily.
The quiet ease doesn't carry on forever. He can sense the moment that they both hold their breath simultaneously, waiting for the other person to talk first. He never does, relying on her to speak for him.
"I heard you're applying for asylum in the Institute." This time, she twists in his arms so she can face him, kneeling between his legs on the cold rooftop. He didn't tell her. Didn't really know how to. Of course, she'd asked him for months about leaving the Unseelie, but he hadn't had a proper motivation until recently.
"Mmhmm." There's a flicker of searing guilt, but her presence is so much warmer. If he regrets it, it's too late to even consider the possibility.
"Like, Raziel. I'm gonna have to introduce you to my parents and everything," she remarks, letting her fingers run over the hem of his cloak. "That's going to be a shitshow. Not that I'm not worth it, but you're not going to have a good time with them."
He hadn't gotten that far ahead, but the world has always felt less oppressive with her in it. Somehow, he doesn't mind the thought of facing an entire onslaught of questions and comments as long as she's there to deflect them, and he just gives a subtle furrow of his brows as he tries to interpret her words. "Is that a problem?"
"No, but-...Blake. This is a really big deal," she says, holding his face in her hands. It isn't often that she seems both serious and soft, but there is only a look of contemplation in her eyes, as if trying to recognize the gravity of what he's done for her. She pulls herself closer to kiss him, and his arms are already around her instinctively to hold her there, kissing her back and relishing how she feels in his arms against the backdrop of an unforgiving night. She has become more of a home than his own Court recently, and it is difficult to imagine being so silently understood by anyone else.
"I love you," she says easily, resting her forehead against his as she stays there. He doesn't say it back. Not because he can't, but because he's never needed to.
Slowly, she shifts back to how she'd been sitting previously, both of them nestled into each other on the rooftop. A distant howl interrupts the night but she doesn't remark on it, just closing her hand around his. Softness doesn't suit them, but the quiet does, and it is rare that they get uninterrupted moments that aren't stained by his own defensiveness or her unwillingness to back down when threatened. The peace won't last forever, but nothing ever has, and he doesn't mind the thought of them sitting there until the sun beckons them back to their respective homes. This is a mercy that the world has afforded for him, and he won't let it go to waste.
... ... ...
Stephanie,
It's been a year, hasn't it?
I've been in Switzerland almost exclusively since we had drinks. Communicating here is far better without that warlock friend of yours breathing down our necks. How do you survive with such an insufferable allotment of friends? I suppose, after me, maybe everyone else pales in comparison. I hope he's not here, looking over this letter - how intrusive would that be? You know, I would never intrude on someone's privacy like that.
Humour aside, I wanted to apologize for how cold and impersonal I was when we met. Sometimes we can be different people in front of others, and though I acted as if we were hardly strangers, I want you to know that I do actually know you and I know your type. I'll prove it to you. You've gotten a taste of deviance, were burned, and then ultimately straightened out. Maybe you'll settle into a life with friends and family that will be safe, but not exciting. Do your job exactly how you're told and be one of the good Shadowhunters. Then you'll live long enough on the verge of satisfaction, though your taste for perversion and broken things will always be there. All the angel blood in the world can't snuff that out.
Now I know you're sitting there with that defiant look, but really ask yourself: are you insulted because you know I'm right, or because you think I'm wrong? Honest answers, Stephanie. What nice, safe things are you trying to fit into your nice, safe routine before you get bored? We're not alike - I know - but people imprint on each other. I'll admit that there are parts of you that stay with me if you admit that there are parts of me that stay with you. We both have an affinity for danger and dark things. Am I the only one that knows that about you?
On another note, I heard you're writing a book? The address on the back of this letter leads to a PO box. I hope you'll send me a letter back and a copy, since I don't know how I'll get my hands on it otherwise - from one reader to another. I'm sending my written congratulations here. At least one of us will contribute to this world in some lasting, positive way. Oh, and Amalia reminded me to send her regards, so take that how you will. She enjoyed the company of you and your friend when we all went out, but Switzerland is known for its excessive politeness so, well, there's a disclaimer for you.
You've become quite an interesting person since we parted ways back when we were teenagers. I've enjoyed getting glimpses when I can, though that's few and far between. I guess I might act like I'm disinterested, but sometimes I lie too. Anyway, if you write back, then I will too, and if you never send a reply, I'll assume it's because you're too busy with a new, spotless, interesting life.
But I don't think you are.
Liebe grüße,
Ars Goetia