she’s alone, not something that’s common these days. julian shadows her every move, as he’s supposed to but with the constant edge of fear that’s been surrounding them of late ~fear of having one or the other taken away, separated, harmed~ it’s exhausting when mark and christina start hovering too. she loves all of them like they’re her own family, she really does because they sort of are, but she’s suffocating. the silence of adrenaline is the only place she has left to gain peace of mind and so she finds herself in the training room, working out her frustrations.
it’s the interruption of someone else, a masculine voice that halts her in the middle of a spectacularly frontward flip off one of the taller beams, cortana poised to strike imaginary foe - and she stumbles at the last minute, caught off guard both by his words and the realization that she hadn’t heard him enter. she recovers within the bat of an eyelash, from almost rolling her ankle to spine straightened as fingers tighten around the hilt of her trusted blade.
“if you think that was extra, then you clearly haven’t been training in the right institute.” it’s very clear that he’s a shadowhunter and light smirk doesn’t quite touch her eyes. trust is not a natural instinct of their kind and with the climate of things now, trust is nearly nonexistent. but she doesn’t recognize the name. “i don’t know you. how did you get in here?”
"perhaps not," he agreed after a moment of eyeing her, hoping she hadn't injured herself for his careless entrance and introduction. he had heard about the los angeles institute inhabitants ( there were always words to be said about other shadowhunters, it seemed ; apparently they were just as awful with gossip as mundanes were ) and wondered if this was the emma carstairs he had heard so much about. once he was sure hadn't injured herself, his shoulders relaxed and his smile eased some.
"not many people do." he gave a light shrug, seemingly used to not being very well known. the stromwright's had been thought to have died out with grayson's father, but here he was, the only stormwright left to possibly continue the name. while grayson understood the politics of shadowhunters and what power names could hold, he didn't think a name could define someone---- not really. even so, it didn't mean he wasn't proud to hold the name. he raised a hand, hooking a thumb over his shoulder to point behind him.
"the institute door opened for me. i was hoping for. . ." a place to crash? well, yes. he had come here hoping for a place to stay while he looked for any clues about his father but wondered if it were right. wouldn't staying somewhere in the city be better, away from prying eyes? grayson wasn't the distrustful type, but this was important and he didn't want anything to get in the way of finding the truth. of course, if he were allowed to stay, he would help were he could, guest or not. ". . . a room," he finished, canting his head slightly to the side. "i have some---- business i need to take care of and all i would need the room for would be to sleep. most of my time will be spent out of the institute."
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