Run faster than wind

I'm Owain Herondale, the only son of William Herondale and Tessa Gray. My family runs the London Institute. I am a Shadowhunter through and through. I also have two sisters, Carys and Gwendelyn. We're a rather close family.

[owain--herondale-blog]

Follow the Leader || Helena (W) & Owain

[helenawate-blog]

"There’s nothing wrong with my legs. It’s just…back home in Canada, in the 21st century, my dad drives me to a lot of places. He’s really paranoid about his daughter getting kidnapped or something." Helena responded with a shrug. It was the truth; when school ended, Helena would either go to a friend’s house and do homework and talk to her friend for a couple hours until her dad and Zach came to pick her up and go to her mom’s boutique, or she would go straight to her mom and help her with designs, and any other help her mom needed. At Owain’s next comment, Helena’s jaws dropped and sighed, "Oh my gods," whispering to herself, "Carriages. Perhaps this really is the past." 

It was still unbelievable that she was in the 19th century but everything around her proved that she was. The way people dressed, the way things looked, and most importantly, how London looked very different from the pictures in the tour books that Helena had flipped through. “We…we have a lot of things. A lot of technological stuff. Like uh…a portable phone. Please don’t have a panic attack…” Helena responded hesitantly, unsure how he would react. Pulling her phone out of her back pocket, she quickly checked the battery to see it at seventy something percent. Which wasn’t that much, but it would be no use here, anyway. “Here..it can take pictures, you can call people and send messages..and do a lot of other stuff.

[owain--herondale-blog]

"Your father is a coach?" Owain inquired, his eyebrows raising in curiosity as he glanced back at her. That was strange; instead of driving his daughter places, you'd think the man would be doing his job. But who was he to question the Mundanes? Little of it made sense, and he didn't want to waste precious time trying to understand them. "Regardless, I -- "

The Nephilim was cut off as she began talking again, and he kept his mouth shut until she finished. However, she began digging in her pocket and pulling something small and sleek-looking out. "A phone?" he asked, wondering how the small rectangle could do any of what the regular telephones could. It just seemed so tiny. "Take pictures? Like photographs? And call people to send messages?" The boy stopped completely in his tracks as he looked down at it in her hand, the front of it lighting up brightly. It was so foreign, and he wondered if it ran on demon energies or whatever strange power that Henry Branwell ran his inventions on. "That is... madness. Are you sure it's safe? I don't trust it."

[rachaelpenhallow-blog]

Does anyone want to see the gardens with me?

[rachaelpenhallow-blog]

That sounds wonderful!

Oh *eyes widen* I can see them! How adorable. Heeeeeree, ducky ducky… quack. *duck- and various birdnoises*

[owain--herondale-blog]

You -- what? What? Where? I see nothing, Miss Penhallow, although I hear their infernal call. Stop quacking; it's ridiculous. 

[rachaelpenhallow-blog]

Does anyone want to see the gardens with me?

I’m sure we might find some flowers sprouting already.

[owain--herondale-blog]

I can't imagine the gardens would rid me of the ducks that are seemingly following my every move, but I would not mind accompanying you.

[owain--herondale-blog]

M!A: Muse hears quacking sounds everywhere he goes even though there really aren't any ducks around. (4hrs)

"Greyface, you are a cruel, twisted soul with no sense of —

… did you hear that?”

[owain--herondale-blog]

May I volunteer to be your special someone, Mr Herondale?

"You’re free to volunteer; I doubt you’ll fit my expectations, though."

[owain--herondale-blog]

Will you share to us your happiest memory?

"My happiest memory?" Owain furrowed his brow in thought for a moment. "It's more of a collection of them than anything, but if I had to pick one, I suppose I'd say when I drew on my first Mark. It's special to have the ceremony, yes, but doing it myself gave me a sense of independence that I really enjoy."

[owain--herondale-blog]

Do you have a special someone, Mr Herondale?

"Me? A special someone? No, I don't."

[owain--herondale-blog]

Quack. Quack. Quack quack quack. Quack.

"Let me go fetch the holy water; Da has it on hand for occasions such as these."

[youarethefirstdreamofmysoul]

Shadowhunter Children’s Rhyme (x)

[genevieve-highsmith-blog]

[she smiles] That is good. I do not like to be teased very much, anyways. How can I not? I am Nephilim, after all. So how is your training, Owain? Are you enjoying it?

I realized after the words left my lips that men who enjoy making crowns of flowers more than their training do not sound like men at all. 

[owain--herondale-blog]

That's understandable. And my training is... fine, I guess. It's okay. I hope to get better, is all. Why?

Ah, yes, exactly -- lazy.

[ellapenhallow]

[owain--herondale-blog]

She seemed happier now, and he hoped that what he’d said earlier could be erased by a story. She was still young; perhaps she wouldn’t cry anymore. Owain felt a twinge of nervousness as he cleared his throat, ready to read aloud; he definitely hadn’t come into the library...

[owain--herondale-blog]

Ella had mumbled something, and while Owain was reading, he wasn't sure if she had muttered it to herself or was actually speaking to him. He figured that if it were really important, though, she would have the sense to stop and tell him. However, she did no such thing, and he continued happily.

The young Herondale was feeling pleased with himself, having made her laugh. She seemed extremely intent on the story, which was good -- that meant no more crying. His eyes widened slightly when she spoke, though, stifling a laugh. "Ducks are the source of all evil, Miss Penhallow," he said nodding gravely. "You see, they're merciless -- as portrayed in this story. Ruthless towards even their own kind. My father took me once to Hyde Park alone and showed me that they'll even eat their own -- cannibalistic tendencies, can you believe? And Carys finds them cute..." he trailed off, making a face before focusing on her once more and giving her a mischevious smile. "They're terrible creatures; you must always approach them with extreme caution, if absolutely necessary. If not, then I suggest you try to avoid them altogether."

Owain rubbed his nose, leaning back and looking at her curiously. She was on her knees, and they were at eye level, which distantly surprised him. He stared at her for a few moments, at a loss of words, before turning away and clearing his throat. "Ah, so," he said, grasping for something to talk about and feeling rather awkward. "What are your plans for the day?"

[owain--herondale-blog]

Owain felt a mixture of pride and worry as he strode quickly in front of the confused girl, his step confident as he glanced back at her every so often to check if she was still following him. She definitely had the Sight, that much was certain — when he’d approached her, he...

[owain--herondale-blog]

The dark haired Nephilim raised his eyebrow as he looked her over. She seemed well enough, but looks could be deceiving. "Your legs work well enough, don't they?" he inquired, his tone a little dry as he pushed back his hair with his hand. "Atleast it is not six miles. I don't have a carriage and I could not simply ask someone to take us there."

It was not often that he spoke with a Mundane, and sometimes he forgot that they did not know the importance of the Institute. He was still almost positive she was a Mundane; he would feel it, wouldn't he, if she were a demon. Usually, warlock marks were easily spotted, but this girl didn't have something as obvious as Magnus Bane's cat eyes, or another's bright green horns sprouting from their head.

As Helena spoke, he scowled, feeling slightly insulted. The Nephilim were not meant to have ties to anything other than to the Enclave, but Owain could not help it; he loved London, the busy streets, the grey skies that never let it get too hot, and even the usual rain that soaked his clothes and slowed down his running when he was out. "Yes," he said, frowning at her. "Although I've lived in this century, as you say, for my fourteen years of life, and I cannot imagine a better place -- besides Wales, of course, but that's a different story." His brows knit as he watched her look around, obviously displeased. "What do you have from your century that makes it so much better?"

[genevieve-highsmith-blog]

I was simply giving you suggestions, Owain. But they are magnificent healers, though. Oh, of course. I completely agree with you. Our kind will always be the greatest. 

It is never bad to learn new things. I believe I know a few Shadowhunter men in Paris who know how to make flower crowns. Well, they’re boys, really.

[owain--herondale-blog]

You're also no fun to tease, Miss Highsmith. But I'm glad you can see that, atleast. [grins]

If they're boys, then why would you begin it by saying they're men? They're probably lazy.

[ellapenhallow]

[owain--herondale-blog]

Relief washed over the young Herondale as she gave him a slight smile, the tears seemingly gone. He returned it with a shaky smile of his own, watching her get up and walk straight to where he was, picking through the bottom shelves at the fairy tales.

"Ah, it seems as if you...

[owain--herondale-blog]

She seemed happier now, and he hoped that what he'd said earlier could be erased by a story. She was still young; perhaps she wouldn't cry anymore. Owain felt a twinge of nervousness as he cleared his throat, ready to read aloud; he definitely hadn't come into the library anticipating this -- and besides that, he hated reading. Maybe doing it with a partner would make things a bit more fun, but he doubted it.

After she settled herself next to him, he flipped to the title page of the first story: The Ugly Duckling. He glanced over at her, smiling wryly. "This is a tale," he began, "of a terrible villain. If you ever encounter something like this in our present day, I highly encourage you to flee. Ducks are forever ugly -- there is no changing that, and you should never be fooled by their seemingly harmless exterior. They are beasts on the inside, Miss Penhallow; always remember that."

Feeling more satisfied, the dark haired Nephilim began to read the actual words on the page. "Once upon a time, in a beautiful blue pond, there lived two ducks. These two -- " he hesitated, frowning on the word 'majestic' before substituting it for something more fitting and soldiering on, " -- feathered creatures lived on naturally before the mother duck decided that she wished to have children. Soon after, six baby ducklings were hatched from their pearl white eggs. There was one, however, that seemed amiss..."

Owain continued, his voice pitching at just the right times, changing it when need be, and sounding absolutely miserable when he read the little ugly duckling's lines. He also decided to edit Mr. Andersen's work with more adequate words, or so he thought: 'cute' to 'minimally terrifying', 'soft quacks' to 'quiet battlecries', 'pensieve' to 'contemplating murder', and the like.

There was no doubt that he felt quite satisfied by the end of the story as he let it fall into his lap and gave Ella a winsome smile. "So," he said, looking at her intently. "Did you learn anything?"

[ellapenhallow]

[owain--herondale-blog]

Owain’s eyes widened slightly at the rather squeaky statement that came from her, his mind already whirling to come up with some sort of excuse for his words. Thankfully, she seemed to regain her composure, and he silently vowed to watch his mouth a bit more. “Ah, you’re...

[owain--herondale-blog]

Relief washed over the young Herondale as she gave him a slight smile, the tears seemingly gone. He returned it with a shaky smile of his own, watching her get up and walk straight to where he was, picking through the bottom shelves at the fairy tales.

"Ah, it seems as if you know what you are doing," he teased lightly, his earlier grin returning as she held out a book to him. "And Hans Christian Andersen, even. That sounds like a wonderful choice." He took the small tome from her and moved towards the plush seats by the fire, motioning for her to follow him. "Come, then; if this is what you want to be read, then I shall read it."

Hans Christian Andersen was one of the first authors that his mother had introduced him to; although he would never admit it, his favourite was The Little Mermaid. It always made him indescribably sad, knowing that she would have to die for love. He often felt that the prince was rather stupid, and this, if any, was a reason not to fall into love with a Mundane. They'd never understand how much that the Nephilim or Downworlder had to sacrifice in order to be with them.

Owain dropped himself onto the couch unceremoniously, smiling up at her and patting the seat next to her as he opened the book up. The first story was The Little Duckling, and the dark hair boy scowled in annoyance. That was how things had to go, wasn't it? "Sit down; I'll start from the beginning."

[owain--herondale-blog]

Follow the Leader || Helena (W) & Owain

Owain felt a mixture of pride and worry as he strode quickly in front of the confused girl, his step confident as he glanced back at her every so often to check if she was still following him. She definitely had the Sight, that much was certain -- when he'd approached her, he knew that she'd seen him and even heard his first remark, despite the glamour rune he'd drawn on himself before leaving home. Still, he was bringing a stranger back to the Institute, which could get him into plenty of trouble with Da. He couldn't imagine that his parents would be particularly fond of him bringing home some random Mundane girl off the street.

But she had mentioned time travel, and was wearing weird clothes. That was definitely some sort of proof, wasn't it? 

Well, he figured, the adults would know. They'd sort it all out -- they always did -- and he'd help in any way he could. Maybe Mum would do some strange spell if she could, or they'd call in Magnus Bane, or something; whatever was going to happen, it was bound to be exciting. That would come later though. Owain turned around to face her and walked backwards, smiling widely. "Don't look so nervous," he told her. "We'll get you home, somehow. I'm sure it's all a mistake, or something." 

Glancing up at the sky, he noticed that usually at this time, he'd be running. For a moment he felt a strange prickling irritation with the girl, but brushed it off. He could run later; this was more important. Their mandate! His grin grew as he tilted his head to the side slightly. "The Institute isn't far at all; only about six blocks or so from here. Feel free to take a look at all of what our lovely London has to offer."

[helenawate-blog]

Institute? What’s that? I’m pretty certain that I have not hit my head.

[owain--herondale-blog]

Er, a place to... go. Uh, just follow me, maybe, if you will...