力量 # 𝘊𝘓𝘖𝘊𝘒𝘚𝘗𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘛𝘐𝘔𝘌 𝘐𝘚 𝘛𝘐𝘊𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘍𝘈𝘚𝘛 . . .
this is an independent & private blog for JAMES CARSTAIRS / KE JIAN MING, from the infernal devices trilogy & ghosts of the shadow market series written by cassandra clare. semi divergent and very headcanon based portrayal, studying concepts of fractured identity, loneliness of chronic illness, a heartbreak for a million years, quiet strength, the curse of memory, & agape: eternal love. associated with, @skinclocks & @awendraig.
IN HIS EYES ALONE, THEY FOUND GRACE.
affiliated with skinclocks. low activity, minors dni. dark themes present. there will be discussion of difficult topics such as depression, terminal illnesses, racism, drug use, torture — all relevant to jem’s experiences in victorian london. note: heavily critical of the series author. 当局者迷，旁观者清。 carrd.
# BASIC RULES APPLY :
don't be an asshole, i'm selective with following and liberal with soft blocking for any weird behaviour, vague posting, or posting anything that indicates support for zionism, sexism, islamaphobia, anti-semitism, bigotry, transphobia, etc. pinned gif credit is arcanegifs.
on that note, it's imperative that you understand that this blog will discuss dark and difficult topics. namely racism (especially in the context of the victorian era), suicidal ideation, terminal illness, death, mutilation, and discussions of cults. worth mentioning also that i'm also extremely critical of cassandra clare and her work, do not support her monetarily or vocally as an author, and would prefer to follow tsc writers who echo this sentiment.
# REGARDING MY PORTRAYAL :
please understand that what i say is relevant to my portrayal only. i happily welcome duplicates and am very okay with a multitude of divergencies and portrayals of tid characters. however :
theft of my headcanons and work will not be tolerated. i've been developing jem for over three years now and have worked very hard to research different facets of being. as such, i will at times be very critical of will, tessa, and jem himself (or rather the way they are written). because of this, i prefer to write this messed up polycule with all their flaws in tact thank you! not a big fan of herondale worship that goes around often at the expense of women and marginalised groups. if you're sensitive to that, kindly don't follow.
# FORMATTING REQUESTS :
please avoid double/triple spaces between words, heavy colouring or different fonts in your replies. this is an absolute must. my focus and vision is weak and i will not be able to enjoy or read your lovely reply! as always, feel free to request your own preferences and comforts and i will happily oblige.
[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds.
jem held his breath tightly to his own chest, as if exhaling the way he would, would betray his stubbornness. he squared his shoulders where he was seated on the lower end of a broad stairway in camden town, staring up at will who hovered and hunkered trying to get a better view of the wound on jem's arm. he bristled lightly, and then said more helplessly :
❛❛ i'm quite alright will. must you— ❜❜ yes, he thought annoyed, and exhaled. he really must. will had propped himself down beside jem now, and was carefully maneavering his arm onto his lap. their heads nearly bumped together in the process, and he felt his annoyance double at the twist of endearment sprouting in his heart. ❛❛ i'm not fragile you know. ❜❜ this was innocently false, but that was a separate matter. jem's fury was a contained beast, it's primary witness and keeper the boy in front of him but only on darker nights than this one, when his own vision betrayed him to visions. ❛❛ you fuss as bad as a hen. what's a wound to a shadowhunter? ❜❜
impolite on which part? his? as if it was not the other man interrupting something. a dream-like fantasy where their days were interwined again. a cozy afternoon of tea and conversation, laughter, and a kiss and a caress or two if only they weren't so uneasy to walk into the past. tessa had to accept that yes, they were still on the purgatory of their unique second-chance, entering the all open doors. wondering if one step ahead was enought to fall face front, unready to break themselves into pieces once again. in truth, she had nothing but reckless abandon within his arms. so long, uncountable days, had been enough. an empty place, a missing place, always waiting to be fulfilled by moony structures and violin tunes. still, she could not blame ; and couldn't not wonder if he was right, after all, to leave like this. if his position wasn't created due to years of numbess she would never be able to grasp ...
tessa did not respond his question. '' to see him soon '' felt wrong, after all. and then jem continued, looking at her like a friendly mailman or a shopkeeper she saw everyday ; pleasantly, but distant. as if his vocal chords still were within his mind rather than mouth. an anger filled her throat and her arms crossed — feeling her heart be slapped by his words. images of carriages and blushes, of trains and her younger self calling him a good friend came out of their grave to taunt her. very well, she'd let them do much — but not him.
❛ yes, we are such good friends ! i wouldn't blame if you found an affair to warm your nights, either. ❜ everything in her tone, her posture, and the clear storm on grey eyes told him otherwise. tessa huffed. ❛ that's all we are after centuries, and after we kissed on blackfriar's weeks ago. just good friends. i'll tell the man waiting in my living room he has nothing to worry for. ❜ she remembered his name. jonathan. funny enough, he was no nephilim. a first. still, though handsome the mundane was, he held no candle to the man in front of her. he had no such sweetness and sharpness alike, and even less the key to her deepest desires and affections.
it was only now that jem's face began to show signs of shifting, as if at last he was touched by the situation he had wound up in. his brows began to furrow with some confusion as she spoke, though she seemed unlike herself as she did : her voice forcefully cheerful, but her face said otherwise. that was besides the point, as she repeated what he had intended to say back at him. his jaw tightened a fraction, a flash of frigid anger, but what he felt in that second at her words, he hadn't bothered to identify it let alone sulk in it. his tight expression morphed back into clean unaffectedness, with a small frown.
❛❛ i know. ❜❜ he said without grievance, the same way someone might say the weather was dreary. ❛❛ you wouldn't. ❜❜ a part of him wished he could lie that far too. to say that he had thought about it the way she had or considered it, that there were red stains of kisses beneath his collarbone or someone's gift around his neck. that he had let someone tear into his cold depths, but jem simply hadn't. touch seemed like a distant haven, the same way the london institute did. why he had entertained the hope at all was beyond him.
❛❛ and he doesn't, ❜❜ this he said more sharply than intended, frost over his eyes and his body taut like a raised sword. ❛❛ that doesn't mean i want to know about him and you. better i don't make a habit of getting in the way of your life. ❜❜ he saw her, all gloriously furious and familiar as a wristbone was, and yet he was seeing through her, his walls up and guarded. the memory of their brief kiss at blackfriars seemed like a hallucination now, the same way he would hallucinate will's voice at his ear at night. this was a familiar dance, a dance he had been waltzing with her for a hundred and fifty years it seemed, through blurry faces of their loved ones to london in ruins beneath the weight of the blitz. how much longer will we dance?
and he wondered treacherously, if one day he might wake up to realise he had only ever been dancing alone this while, pretending he was hers. ❛❛ it seems i am intruding after all. it's best that i go, tessa — i'm sorry. ❜❜
it has been years since she has come so close to hallowed grounds. even if these were structures made for another kind of worship. when one finds themselves beyond the favor of heaven they begin to look for it even the oddest of places… and perhaps in the faces of strangers. there are a handful of people on this isle that bear their similar features but they are far and few between ( and certainly none to find in this part of town ) it is not quite regret that seeps in when she is met with this fact but rather a slight pang of remorse. she would still be responsible for her end of the bargain with her brother but it did not mean she had to go about it unkindly.
❛ where is home for you then ? before you came here, this dreary weather doesn't seem to suit you. ❜ his english bears no trace of another sovereignty unlike her own where certain intonations are unable to sit right upon her tongue. another deep inhale before she allows herself a small sip, this was an offering even if he is unaware of the altar he is set before. she must savor such a gift, one given to simply please her and not one given to beg for good fortune. there is no divinity to stir within her anymore but it is a phantom ache, a limb severed that she reaches for still even here amongst the angels.
perhaps her candor is a bit excessive yet this is the customary curiosity of the animal she houses. foxes, while not known for their gentility, were scavengers. this requires a need, a desire, to go out and look, to pick at the bones of a thing.
❛ even as a distraction i found it all quite compelling, if a bit of a waste of talent on that sort of audience. ❜ the night children were well and good in her ledger yet their attention had been bought by peculiarity rather than appreciation. the shop keeper had been amongst their midst to collect on a debt, a cure for their sun sickness. she was no warlock but she had plenty in her reliquary that had once belonged to children of lilith. still, nothing that would fix this particular ailment yet they were still desperate to see what the borrowed magic of a protective amulet could provide.
❛ i must admit i am not entirely familiar with the western canon, only in bits and fragments so i'll refrain from any formal requests and trust in your judgement. ❜ sitting on the stone lip of the fountain, the damp remains in the air but she still sets aside her cloak as a show of good will. revealing that she bears no weapons with her today, none that could be held in hand at the very least. ❛ for the rain then, for kuraokami. ❜ raising her cup, the golden glint of her eyes are casted upward to the steel sky.
no, this weather didn't suit him at all, too cold and quiet though his appearance was misleading in that case. when people saw jem, his pale hair so strange and skin too blanched, they assumed he was a product of the land, had to be if he looked that way too. though if jem were to answer, he would think a face like his own didn't quite belong anywhere, and was the product of a bloody mess.
❛❛ shanghai. ❜❜ it was easier to talk of his city without dark thoughts looming. there was enough he remembered through blurry memories to piece together the place that was a far away home. ❛❛ my father was from london, suppose my tolerance comes from him. ❜❜ his smile grew a touch wider, a featherlight relief to see that the tea had been adequate enough to be accepted. his curiosity hadn't stopped there, though for young gentleman this was often a new terrain entirely, for he had less exposure to the outside world than will did : when to push safely, lest they cross into impolite nagging. ❛❛ and yourself? what of your home if i may ask? ❜❜
his amusement was evident, and he stood with the violin as a matter of pride in his hands. the confirmation was all he needed to understand, and her admittance of unfamiliarity meant he might get to show her a new thing or two, which was a lovely prospect on its own. ❛❛ well, i suppose i can't blame them : we were trespassing rather rudely. ❜❜ and then, with a slow dip of his head, a performer's son through and through : ❛❛ for kuraokami then, from qīnglóng. ❜❜ it begins like any ballad, the imaginary portrait of dancers beneath a waning eclipse, ushering a springtide with nothing but their songs. it was nothing as somber as the notes jem entertained in the dead of night, when he kept company with shadows. this was different, something he might have played at a wedding or to cheer up charlotte.
the sanctuary is soundless otherwise, caught up in the tender echoes of his violin notes. when he concludes and sets down the instrument, gently slanted against the stair way, he takes a seat himself beside it. for a moment he is silent himself, as if grappling with the reminder that he was not here alone. that someone had called out to him, a thing of chance or perhaps luck. ❛❛ i hope that was alright, miss miyagawa. ❜❜
the voice was familiar not for the notes within it, but the strange accent that followed it. she was never able to place it somewhere. once, on the first date, tessa inquired after it but the answer was forgotten somewhere in her brain. locked with the mere existance of the person holding it, perhaps. so in the end, she was mean-spirited and not altogether holy, her demon nature truly taking hold of the worst thing her heart could offer; a very deep but selective love. posing it was reachable for those poor souls while she only sought some mere comfort, flesh and heat to sleep with in lonely nights.
the scene was eclipsed by the joy inside the soul. simply having him near, back, was enough. of course, some things were still unfinished and left in the dark ; was it the same feeling from centuries ago that brought him here, now, or is it something else? comodity, casuality, custom. words tessa despised more and more. jem's rudeness startled her more than the presence of the mundane man holding flowers with awkward disposition. her mouth parted and brow furrowed in anger and confusion as the guest - unwanted - asked where he should put the bouquet.
❛ oh, i'm sorry. here, please. they are very beautiful. ❜ she'd rather get books as gifts, but rudeness was not her main trait anyhow. flowers died too soon. for others, it was days ; to her it seemed like seconds. jem's turning back rose an anxiety like never before, keeping her from enjoying their perfume or sight ; a wave of almost childish despair, like a little girl seeing their best friend leave after stating they would never talk again. ❛ can you excuse me for a second? ❜ he murmured an exhausted of course. she paid it no mind. running after jem just after the door closed ── touching his shoulder with desperation..
❛ please, don't leave. ❜ it's not you i that i want gone. never. tessa did not look down, cheeks heated but not colored. no shame at all. her feet kept moving with no steps, though. fretting. ❛ i'll understand if you do. you seem... unpleased. but i really wish you wouldn't. ❜ ever again. too soon? too fast? how could it be when they were also too late?
he was without anger by the time she caught up with him, and a part of wondered if he had anticipated it, or quietly hoped for it, or if these were dregs of wants and memories that his body had resumed on. he shook himself free of it by the time he turned to watch her, a hand on his arm to slow his walk. the irritation was gone by then. he had never been particularly good at being angry with her or around her, but there was a coldness to him now, as if zachariah's shadow was refusing to let go of the body he had held for more than a hundred years. it was startling in contrast : that he might look at her now with an unreadable face, and her stern and stormy eyes were caught up in flushed uncertainty.
❛❛ i am not unpleased with you. ❜❜ it felt an important distinction to make, or at least he hoped he could assure her of that much : that jem would never forsake her, her happiness, and surely he had proved that much. rather, he desperately hoped it had, that the pain had been worth some gold in the mine after all. ❛❛ merely that intrusion felt impolite. it was time i got going any way, but shall i see you soon? ❜❜
he forced a smile, however moody as the faces of the moon it might have been, but his intentions for all their confused feelings had been purer than his greed. when he spoke again, it was only after a reluctant pause. her suitor, or whoever he was, was still waiting inside for her. had she chased him out of worry, or fear that he might withdraw? ❛❛ you don't have to worry tessa, i'm not cross with you. ❜❜ as if the shadow of their past was not a weighted sky pressing down on them. why wouldn't she want freedom from it? he stood as he was, only half facing her, hands at his sides rather than where they wanted to be on her face. london was a dream around them : quaint streets and red busses rolling past, uninterested in their wounds. ❛❛ we're better friends than that, aren't we? ❜❜
also want to explore an au / his grishaverse au where tessa's transformation and the heavenly fire from that scene actually does touch jem. but rather than return to the silent brothers or announce he's alive to the institute, he leaves for idris and/or joins the rank of assassins somewhere else.
the more i read cp the more i feel like will and jem are meant to be going in the opposite direction in the narrative, but gradually. jem is introduced as kind, hopeful, aching for love and to accept it. and will is explored as being resentful of being apart from it, pushing it away and not believing it can be his. the series ends with will being kinder, more hopeful and warm and accepting love after a lifetime of fearing it, whereas jem grows reserved, can scarcely believe he's meant for love, turns away from those he knew and once loved him too, and through his life as zachariah, much like will, believes it can't be his.
My muse drags out your muse’s name, like they’re savoring it. ( okay options! Bye!!! )
she was saying his name like she was savouring it, a delectable sweet on her tongue. but he recognised the tone for something else too, something more playful and teasing and challenging. it was the way one would say, you're being silly. but was he? he blinked innocuously just to humour her, let her hand press against his scarred heart above his shirt. when he said her name back, he said it with an exhale, as if he was welcoming it back into his mouth.
❛❛ kaede. ❜❜ behind her back, he knew her hands were locked together, holding a unique sword. this would be cortana, his first weapon and the carstairs heirloom. though he bore it no longer, it was an intrinsic part of him, the blade that had pierced yanluo's throat. it was the beating heart of what remained of jem's soul, his dignity, his honour— most of all, it was the golden sword that had returned to him a reminder of a value he could hold. but more importantly, it was, he hoped, an engagement gift she could accept.
❛❛ i think you're playing with me. ❜❜ his own hands were folded at his back too, though they were empty. he leaned forward where she beckoned him by saying his name the way that she did, standing close with his eyes bright, and nudged his nose to her own. ❛❛ i had a package here, and i'm certain i delivered to the right place. out with it : did you steal it? ❜❜
My muse spits your muse’s name like it hurts to say. ( from valencia !
he had never heard his name be spoken that way before, like it was a desperate or guttural call. there was almost a dreamy quality to it, that one could be needed or sought in such a way. that it would warrant a name being spoken with like a punch of emotions. at first it welled his chest with something like wonder, and fascination, before a bout of horror ruined his unsettling admiration of it : he dropped his cane and dashed forward, even as pain flared through his knees, but it was quick enough that he had gotten down the stairs of the institute to find her.
❛❛ valencia, is that you? ❜❜ his eyes widened, only for a fraction when he found her at last. ❛❛ goodness! ❜❜ beneath the darkly night sky, the hunter was merely like a shadow, sagging against the iron-wrought doors with a hand to her ribs. she appeared as if yharnam had swallowed her down and spat her out at this refuge. absconding the institute steps as the cathedral bells rang, jem caught her by the arm. his own form was too weak to drag her all the up, but this was a start. ❛❛ come on, let me help. you've survived worse. ❜❜
[ tie ] sender helps receiver with their tie, either by putting it on or adjusting it. from darcy
a rush of embarrassment stilled his face, ghostly white beneath the ballroom lights : that darcy had moved before him was indicative of jem's far away look, dissolved in a pot of his own thinking that he had not noticed his own hands freeze half way to his tie. where had he gone in those few seconds? he wasn't sure he knew either. these days, the memories of his dying parents, of yanluo, of visions of london in hellfire, all blurred into one incoherent fog. he wondered belatedly if perhaps the drugs were wearing off now in the eve, a bit of cold sweat at his brow only one of the first symptoms. he exhaled heavily and looked up, flustered. ❛❛ good man — my thanks. i haven't a clue where my focus has gone tonight. ❜❜
the ballroom itself was an intimidating scenario, like a gladiatorial ring where unimpressed mothers sneered down at potential suitors for their sons and daughters, or fathers chattered irritably only about politics. it was all rather stuffy, not least with all the dubious looks he knew he would receive given his appearance, his unearthly eyes, his foreign face. if anything, with charlotte occupied and will amiss, darcy was perhaps his last respite left tonight.
❛❛ does it feel as if we're walking into a pit of vipers? well, suitors for you, i imagine. ❜❜
his eyes flickered awake, where he had been — not asleep, but more comfortably relaxed by her couch. she had been pacing to and fro behind him, humming, distracted in the kitchen. he could smell the coffee she had been enjoying when the chime of the bell had interrupted this quiet peace. had she been expecting guests, perhaps magnus? pulling himself to his feet, he sped a hand through his tousled hair and exhaled. ❛❛ i'll get it. ❜❜ and yet, by the time he had, he wished he had stayed put; opening the door, a strange and unfamiliar pair of eyes stared back at him. they were blue, he realised through his foggy sight, and looked concerned at the sight of him.
his eyes dropped low. in the stranger's hands were a patch of flowers he had retained enough sense about living customs to know, weren't exchanged between friends. then he was speaking, albeit awkwardly : uh, sorry? is tessa home? he bit back another exhale, clicking his tongue softly. if he felt the sting of dejection at all, he was beyond showing it. of course she is, he said, and hadn't needed to ask what their purpose was here. inside, her voice rose up too. who's at the door?
jem stopped short where tessa could see him, shrugging on his jacket as the stranger — her guest or suitor — stopped beside him with a wince. ❛❛ thanks for the tea, i'll be off. ❜❜ and here was the rudeness that was so unlike him, that it would have startled charlotte, or even tessa. that he had departed without asking for a name of her guest, or politely introducing himself as he ought to have, when a dull and unfriendly glance had been all he wished to leave behind.
pursuing his profile as if it were a gallery they frequented, each feature a piece newly discovered. the network that once belonged to her brother when they first met now had fallen into her own possession. a web of whispers that chased wealth as well as rumors. down-world attempted to keep their affairs separate from the nephilim but the angels' children had a way of making their problems relevant to everyone. even so, the fox knew when to keep their nose out of things. her followers had engaged in the battle but they're newly endowed mistress kept to her forest of crimson. re-emerging from the trial of leaves they carry a divine wisdom with them now. marble renewed and embedded into her chest it blooms from within, extending outward. despite hearing of the former hunter's whereabouts she had kept her distance, observing before attempting any sort of approach.
❛ what, no song to greet me ? has time scrubbed away at all your victorian sensibilities too, jian. ❜ she is seen now and is studied because she allows it to be so. a glamour they let slip and a fraction of inari is exposed in the low-burning coals of their eyes.
handing off her coat to the host as she slides onto the stool beside him. nodding at the bartender and then swiftly sending her away with the request for 'something sweet'. turning, their cheek pressed over their palm as their elbow balances on the polished countertop. ❛ maybe not, but you're a difficult man to track down even for someone with my reach. ❜ with affiliation to no group now, a free agent — it was a precarious position to find oneself in. although, she found the lack of of an ivory tower suited him even if he was still relegated to the shadows in his own way. ❛ oh, she's clever. there are plenty of people here tonight with pockets i'm interested in picking. ❜ glancing around the room it is quite the menagerie of characters. it would be a lie to say they had come only to see him but these days it would seem their circles eclipsed one another far more closely than they once had. the prick of his stare is a rush of heat once their gaze flicks back to it. as they share a glance chilled glass is set before her with a twist of orange balancing along its rim. ❛ don't look at me like that — they stole from me first. ❜
her retort isn't far off from the truth, nor insulting in particular, but he greets it as he greets anything these days: unreadable and far away, somehow, even in the face of a distinct past saying hello. once this sight would have twisted him inside out. would have tried to compromise his face with a pang of nausea, from a longing that was no longer allowed to be his own. maybe she would have seen it once upon a time ago, the look of someone holding back a tear or a choked noise — it wasn't so different from the last song he had given her once, at any rate. she is seen now because she wills it, but this was a folly. jem has seen her behind the lids of his closed eyes for a hundred years regardless.
❛❛ i've lost my taste for music. there are more concerning matters to think about. ❜❜ his eyes trail her as she sidles up beside him, coat gone and hair undone around her warmed shoulders. he moves his face away from the sight, and entertains the cold and bland glass of whiskey against his palm. ❛❛ that comes with the territory. silent brothers aren't meant to be found. ❜❜ unless called for a specific purpose. unless they weren't, exactly, silent brothers anymore. this strangeness seemed to dominate his life-view at the moment, even if he tried very hard not to show it or feel it. was this what it was, to have the tables turned, all eyes on him? sadistically maybe, he missed the lifeless anonymity that came with the city of skulls. ❛❛ but it also begs the question of why you need me found at all. ❜❜
she hasn't changed much in comparison, but there are differences he does note. a different shape and length to her hair, her clothes, the way her eyes don't seem so sheltered and quiet anymore. gradually, he sighs out and follows her eyes to the round of denizens occupying the bar. ❛❛ you are within your rights. i won't stop you, but do not hurt them. their mistakes are foolish, but the acts of the desperate. ❜❜ a circumstance he knows, that was brought by the faults of the clave. this close to her, he can make out the expression she bears when he looks at her fully. it was enough to melt the ice, and he tasted whiskey on his tongue without having touched the glass to his lips. finally it seemed, he could accept that she was here with him again, and said softly:
❛❛ hello, kaede. i didn't think i would ever see you again. ❜❜
i stand by the fact that a part of jem will always hold a grudge against will for what he did in that the yinfen den. no matter the reasons or his own determination to resolve any and all tension between them, i feel like . . . he would sooner crush the rest of his self worth than let that go easily because we never get a proper apology and i don't think we were meant to. it stays with him because it was so life-altering to his world view, to his sense of self and self-worth, because even love in that instance wasn't enough to comfort him. it also just makes him more human rather than this lifeless all-good natured mannequin who can never feel or do any wrong.
