#clary.

[margzret]

enquanto percorria o caminho entre o começo da escada e onde se encontrava o quarto que a melhor amiga habitava, tudo o que margaret conseguia se perguntar era: que diabos podia ter acontecido com ela, para que até mesmo a irmã mais velha clarissa fora atrás de garantir uma visita de sua parte para investigar seu humor? estranhava o fato de não tê-la visto após o baile, entretanto, a evidência constatada por jemima de que o humor da loira estava lá nos seus melhores dia certamente cheirava a algo mais; como um problema bem grande que lhe restava a desvendar, juntando as poucas peças de seu quebra-cabeças. enfim alcançando a porta familiar do quarto alheio, deu quatro batidas seguidas - características suas -, então se apressando em adentrar o cômodo, movendo os olhos azulados pelo mesmo, buscando seu alvo naquele momento. “eu nunca vou entender como consegue sumir no seu próprio... quarto, e não me olhe assim! eu avisei que entraria.” já se adiantou em esclarecer, ainda que nem mesmo a mais velha devesse estar surpresa com suas atitudes. eram amigas já de tantos anos, que sentir-se repleta de intimidade nos mais diversos momentos era até natural para a howard. “que bichinho que te mordeu esses dias? mal ouvi falar de você, e bem quando tenho coisas pra te contar.” suspirou, dramática, enquanto colocava para cima da mesa os livros em cima da cadeira mais próxima. “e não são coisas dos outros, prometo. você nem vai conseguir adivinhar o que aconteceu!” declarou ao sentar-se no móvel, os lábios formando um sorriso contente, quase bobo. ( @clwrissa​ )

[bludsukka]

(  tagging  @mundanelife​  )

he’s  paging  through  a  worn  copy  of  anne  rice’s  interview  with  a  vampire  as  he  sits  on  a  restaurant  patio,  sipping  an  arnold  palmer  through  a  bendy  straw  as  the  muffled  sounds  of  the  worst  summer  playlist  ever  crackles  through  an  ageing  sound-system.  he  likes  the  beach  boys,  don’t  get  him  wrong,  but  all  beach  boys  all  the  time  is  a  bit  much  —  even  by  his  standards.  

a  sigh  slips  past  his  lips  as  wouldn’t  it  be  nice  plays  for  the  fourth  time  in  a  row,  dog-earring  his  page  as  he  looks  up  and  sees  what  he  assumes  has  to  be  a  mirage.   for  weeks,  he’d  been  looking  everywhere  for  a  familiar  face.   for  clary,  izzy,  jace  —  hell,  he’d  even  settle  for  alec.    they  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.    until  now,  that  is,  because  clary’s  staring  at  him  like  she’s  seen  a  ghost,  too.    “  oh  thank  god. ”    the  last  word  catches  slightly,  his  entire  body  scrambling  to  vault  over  the  fencing  and  land  right  in  front  of  her.   “  clary  !   you’re  here.   i  was  seriously  starting  to  think  i  was  losing  it.    total  truman  show  paranoia. ”

[rcisehclls]

(  tagging  @mundanelife​​  )

he  knows  now  that  not  everything  in  reprieve  is  as  it  might  seem.  he’s  run  into  doppelgangers  of  both  his  children  now  —  one  who,  in  a  fit  of  annoyance  at  his  apparent  existence,  threw  a  fit  and  stormed  off  —  so  he  knows  not  to  make  assumptions  without  facts  to  back  them  up.  appearances  can  be  deceiving.   best  to  keep  your  guard  up  until  you’re  certain  you  know  who  you’re  dealing  with.

when  he  spots  a  familiar  head  of  fiery  red  hair,  he  decides  to  take  a  calculated  approach.   he  carefully  draws  the  rune  to  allow  him  to  present  himself  differently,  settling  on  himself  —  only  20  years  younger.   while  few  might  recognize  him  this  way,  he  knows  his  daughter  wouldn’t;   it’s  the  perfect  way  to  get  close  enough  to  her  to  determine  if  it  is  her,  and  if  so  how  much  she  knows  about  him  and   the  world  he  comes  from.   

he  ducks  into  the   coffee  shop  behind  her,  snatching  a  coffee  from  someone  with  their  eyes  cast  away  to  use  as  an  opening.  he  nudges  forward  as  if  he’d  been  pushed,  the  hot  liquid  spilling  out  over  his  hands  and  splashing  onto  her  jacket.   “  shit. ”   he  curses  low  under  his  breath,  eyes  wincing  sympathetically  as  he  reaches  past  her  for  some  napkins.   “  i’m  so  sorry.   someone  knocked  into  me  and  ...  well,  you  see  what  happened  next.  heh.  let  me  make  it  up  to  you  ... ”   he  digs  into  his  pockets  once  he’s  dabbed  at  the  coffee  on  her  jacket  awkwardly.   “  croissants  on  me  ?   or  cookies,  whichever  you  like  more.   or  eclairs,  if  that’s  your  thing.  ”   the  younger  version  of  him  was  never  this  awkward,  or  inept,  but  if  she  hangs  around  that  vampire  voluntarily  ...  he’s  sure  she’ll  react  well  to  this  bumbling  fool.   

[bludsukka]

[angelavengedinspo-blog]

“It must be weird, with your mother being the new Consul,” Isabelle was saying to Aline as Clary joined them. “Not that Jia isn’t much better than—Hey, Clary. Aline, you remember Clary.” The two girls exchanged nods. Clary had once walked in on Aline kissing Jace. It had been awful at the time, but the memory held no sting now. She’d be relieved to walk in on Jace kissing someone else at this point. At least it would mean he was alive. “And this is Aline’s girlfriend, Helen Blackthorn.” Isabelle said with heavy emphasis. Clary shot her a glare. Did Isabelle think she was an idiot? Besides, she remembered Aline telling her that she’d kissed Jace only as an experiment to see if any guy were her type. Apparently the answer had been no. “Helen’s family runs the Los Angeles Institute. Helen, this is Clary Fray.” “Valentine’s daughter,” Helen said. She looked surprised and a little impressed. Clary winced. “I try not to think about that too much.” “Sorry. I can see why you wouldn’t.” Helen flushed. Her skin was very pale, with a slight sheen to it, like a pearl. “I voted for the Council to keep prioritizing the search for Jace, by the way. I’m sorry we were overruled.” “Thanks.” Not wanting to talk about it, Clary turned to Aline. “Congratulations on your mother being made Consul. That must be pretty exciting.” Aline shrugged. “She’s busy a lot more now.” She turned to Isabelle. “Did you know your dad put his name in for the Inquisitor position?” Clary felt Isabelle freeze beside her. “No. No, I didn’t know that.” “I was surprised,” Aline added. “I thought he was pretty committed to running the Institute here—” She broke off, looking past Clary. “Helen, I think your brother is trying to make the world’s biggest puddle of melted wax over there. You might want to stop him.” .....

Aline’s face melted into a look of sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If your parents aren’t—” “They’re fine with it,” Isabelle said, a little too sharply. “Well, either way. I shouldn’t have said anything right now. Not with Jace missing. You must all be so worried.” She took a deep breath. “I know people have probably said all sorts of stupid things to you about him. The way they do when they don’t really know what to say. I just—I wanted to tell you something.” She ducked away from a passer-by with impatience and moved closer to the Lightwoods and Clary, lowering her voice. “Alec, Izzy—I remember once when you guys came to see us in Idris. I was thirteen and Jace was—I think he was twelve. He wanted to see Brocelind Forest, so we borrowed some horses and rode there one day. Of course, we got lost. Brocelind’s impenetrable. It got darker and the woods got thicker and I was terrified. I thought we’d die there. But Jace was never scared. He was never anything but sure we’d find our way out. It took hours, but he did it. He got us out of there. I was so grateful but he just looked at me like I was crazy. Like of course he’d get us out. Failing wasn’t an option. I’m just saying—he’ll find his way back to you. I know it.” Clary didn’t think she’d ever seen Izzy cry, and she was clearly trying not to now. Her eyes were suspiciously wide and shining. Alec was looking at his shoes. Clary felt a wellspring of misery wanting to leap up inside her but forced it down; she couldn’t think about Jace when he was twelve, couldn’t think about him lost in the darkness, or she’d think about him now, lost somewhere, trapped somewhere, needing her help, expecting her to come, and she’d break. “Aline,” she said, seeing that neither Isabelle nor Alec could speak. “Thank you.” Aline flashed a shy smile. “I mean it.”

....

Jules looked from Alec to Isabelle and then at Clary. “How many brothers and sisters have you got?” he asked.

Helen paled. Isabelle said, in a remarkably steady voice, “There are three of us.”

Jules’s eyes stayed on Clary. “You don’t look alike.”“I’m not related to them,” Clary said. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”“None?” Disbelief registered in the boy’s tone, as if she’d told him she had webbed feet. “Is that why you look so sad?”Clary thought of Sebastian, with his ice-white hair and black eyes. If only, she thought. If only I didn’t have a brother, none of this would have happened. A little throb of hatred went through her, warming her icy blood. “Yes,” she said softly. “That’s why I’m sad.”

[angelavengedinspo-blog]

There were no clocks in Isabelle’s black and hot-pink powder-puff bedroom, just piles of clothes, heaps of books, stacks of weapons, a vanity overflowing with sparkling makeup, used brushes, and open drawers spilling lacy slips, sheer tights, and feather boas. It had a certain backstage-at-La-Cage-aux-Folles design aesthetic, but over the past two weeks Clary had spent enough time among the glittering mess to have begun to find it comforting. Isabelle, standing over by the window with Church in her arms, stroked the cat’s head absently. Church regarded her with baleful yellow eyes. Outside the window a November storm was in full bloom, rain streaking the windows like clear paint. “Not much longer,” she said slowly. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, which made her look younger, her dark eyes bigger. “Five minutes, probably.” Clary, sitting on Izzy’s bed between a pile of magazines and a rattling stack of seraph blades, swallowed hard against the bitter taste in her throat. I’ll be back. Five minutes. ...

Isabelle dropped Church, who let out a yowl. She came over to the bed and sat down beside Clary. Isabelle looked even more slender than usual—like Clary, she’d lost weight in the past two weeks—but elegant as always, in black cigarette pants and a fitted gray velvet top. Mascara was smudged all around Izzy’s eyes, which should have made her look like a racoon but just made her look like a French film star instead. She stretched her arms out, and her electrum bracelets with their rune charms jingled musically. “No, it’s not a bad sign,” she said. “It just means they have a lot to talk over.” She twisted the Lightwood ring on her finger. “You’ll be fine. You didn’t break the Law. That’s the important thing.” Clary sighed. Even the warmth of Isabelle’s shoulder next to hers couldn’t melt the ice in her veins. She knew that technically she had broken no Laws, but she also knew the Clave was furious at her. 

.....

“Quit it,” Isabelle said. For a moment Clary wasn’t sure if Isabelle was talking to her or to the cat. Church was doing what he often did when dropped—lying on his back with all four legs in the air, pretending to be dead in order to induce guilt in his owners. But then Isabelle swept her black hair aside, glaring, and Clary realized she was the one being told off, not the cat. “Quit what?” “Morbidly thinking about all the horrible things that are going to happen to you, or that you wish would happen to you because you’re alive and Jace is . . . missing.” Isabelle’s voice jumped, like a record skipping a groove. She never spoke of Jace as being dead or even gone—she and Alec refused to entertain the possibility. And Isabelle had never reproached Clary once for keeping such an enormous secret. Throughout everything, in fact, Isabelle had been her staunchest defender. Meeting her every day at the door to the Council Hall, she had held Clary firmly by the arm as she’d marched her past clumps of glaring, muttering Shadowhunters. She had waited through endless Council interrogations, shooting dagger glances at anyone who dared look at Clary sideways. Clary had been astonished. She and Isabelle had never been enormously close, both of them being the sort of girls who were more comfortable with boys than other female companionship. But Isabelle didn’t leave her side. Clary was as bewildered as she was grateful. “I can’t help it,” Clary said. “If I were allowed to patrol—if I were allowed to do anything—I think it wouldn’t be so bad.” “I don’t know.” Isabelle sounded weary. For the past two weeks she and Alec had been exhausted and gray-faced from sixteen-hour patrols and searches. When Clary had found out she was banned from patrolling or searching for Jace in any way until the Council decided what to do about the fact that she had brought him back from the dead, she had kicked a hole in her bedroom door. “Sometimes it feels so futile,” Isabelle added. Ice crackled up and down Clary’s bones. “You mean you think he’s dead?” “No, I don’t. I mean I think there’s no way they’re still in New York.” “But they’re patrolling in other cities, right?” Clary put a hand to her throat, forgetting that the Morgenstern ring no longer hung there. Magnus was still trying to track Jace, though no tracking had yet worked. “Of course they are.” Isabelle reached out curiously and touched the delicate silver bell that hung around Clary’s neck now, in place of the ring. “What’s that?” ..... Before Clary could reply to Isabelle, the door opened. Both girls sat up ramrod straight, Clary clutching one of Izzy’s pink pillows so hard that the rhinestones on it dug into the skin of her palms. “Hey.” A slim figure stepped into the room and shut the door. Alec, Isabelle’s older brother, was dressed in Council wear—a black robe figured with silver runes, open now over jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. All the black made his pale skin look paler, his crystal-blue eyes bluer. His hair was black and straight like his sister’s, but shorter, cut just above his jawline. His mouth was set in a thin line. Clary’s heart started to pound. Alec didn’t look happy. Whatever the news was, it couldn’t be good. It was Isabelle who spoke. “How did it go?” she said quietly. “What’s the verdict?” Alec sat down at the vanity table, swinging himself around the chair to face Izzy and Clary over the back. At another time it would have been comical—Alec was very tall, with long legs like a dancer, and the way he folded himself awkwardly around the chair made it look like dollhouse furniture. “Clary,” he said. “Jia Penhallow handed down the verdict. You’re cleared of any wrongdoing. You broke no Laws, and Jia feels that you’ve been punished enough.” Isabelle exhaled an audible breath and smiled. For just a moment a feeling of relief broke through the layer of ice over all of Clary’s emotions. She wasn’t going to be punished, locked up in the Silent City, trapped somewhere where she couldn’t help Jace. Luke, who as the representative of the werewolves on the Council had been present for the verdict, had promised to call Jocelyn as soon as the meeting ended, but Clary reached for her phone anyway; the prospect of giving her mother good news for a change was too tempting. “Clary,” Alec said as she flipped her phone open. “Wait.” She looked at him. His expression was still as serious as an undertaker’s. With a sudden sense of foreboding, Clary put her phone back down on the bed. “Alec—what is it?” “It wasn’t your verdict that took the Council so long,” said Alec. “There was another matter under discussion.” The ice was back. Clary shivered. “Jace?” “Not exactly.” Alec leaned forward, folding his hands along the back of the chair. “A report came in early this morning from the Moscow Institute. The wardings over Wrangel Island were smashed through yesterday. They’ve sent a repair team, but having such important wards down for so long—that’s a Council priority.” Wards—which served, as Clary understood it, as a sort of magical fence system—surrounded Earth, put there by the first generation of Shadowhunters. They could be bypassed by demons but not easily, and kept out the vast majority of them, preventing the world from being flooded by a massive demon invasion. She remembered something that Jace had said to her, what felt like years ago: There used to be only small demon invasions into this world, easily contained. But even in my lifetime more and more of them have spilled in through the wardings. “Well, that’s bad,” Clary said. “But I don’t see what it has to do with—” “The Clave has its priorities,” Alec interrupted. “Searching for Jace and Sebastian has been top priority for the past two weeks. But they’ve scoured everything, and there’s no sign of either of them in any Downworld haunt. None of Magnus’s tracking spells have worked. Elodie, the woman who brought up the real Sebastian Verlac, confirmed that no one’s tried to get in touch with her. That was a long shot, anyway. No spies have reported any unusual activity among the known members of Valentine’s old Circle. And the Silent Brothers haven’t been able to figure out exactly what the ritual Lilith performed was supposed to do, or whether it succeeded. The general consensus is that Sebastian—of course, they call him Jonathan when they talk about him—kidnapped Jace, but that’s not anything we didn’t know.” “So?” Isabelle said. “What does that mean? More searching? More patrolling?” Alec shook his head. “They’re not discussing expanding the search,” he said quietly. “They’re de-prioritizing it. It’s been two weeks and they haven’t found anything. The specially commissioned groups brought over from Idris are going to be sent home. The situation with the ward is taking priority now. Not to mention that the Council has been in the middle of delicate negotiations, updating the Laws to allow for the new makeup of the Council, appointing a new Consul and Inquisitor, determining different treatment of Downworlders—they don’t want to be thrown completely off track.” Clary stared. “They don’t want Jace’s disappearance to throw them off the track of changing a bunch of stupid old Laws? They’re giving up?” “They’re not giving up—” “Alec,” Isabelle said sharply. Alec took a breath and put his hands up to cover his face. He had long fingers, like Jace’s, scarred like Jace’s were as well. The eye Mark of the Shadowhunters decorated the back of his right hand. “Clary, for you—for us—this has always been about searching for Jace. For the Clave it’s about searching for Sebastian. Jace as well, but primarily Sebastian. He’s the danger. He destroyed the wards of Alicante. He’s a mass murderer. Jace is . . .” “Just another Shadowhunter,” said Isabelle. “We die and go missing all the time.” “He gets a little extra for being a hero of the Mortal War,” said Alec. “But in the end the Clave was clear: The search will be kept up, but right now it’s a waiting game. They expect Sebastian to make the next move. In the meantime it’s third priority for the Clave. If that. They expect us to go back to normal life.” Normal life? Clary couldn’t believe it. A normal life without Jace? “That’s what they told us after Max died,” said Izzy, her black eyes tearless but burning with anger. “That we’d get over our grief faster if we just went back to normal life.” “It’s supposed to be good advice,” said Alec from behind his fingers. “Tell that to Dad. Did he even come back from Idris for the meeting?” Alec shook his head, dropping his hands. “No. If it’s any consolation, there were a lot of people at the meeting speaking out angrily on behalf of keeping the search for Jace up at full strength. Magnus, obviously, Luke, Consul Penhallow, even Brother Zachariah. But at the end of the day it wasn’t enough.” Clary looked at him steadily. “Alec,” she said. “Don’t you feel anything?” Alec’s eyes widened, their blue darkening, and for a moment Clary remembered the boy who had hated her when she’d first arrived at the Institute, the boy with bitten nails and holes in his sweaters and a chip on his shoulder that had seemed immovable. “I know you’re upset, Clary,” he said, his voice sharp, “but if you’re suggesting that Iz and I care less about Jace than you do—” “I’m not,” Clary said. “I’m talking about your parabatai connection. I was reading about the ceremony in the Codex. I know being parabatai ties the two of you together. You can sense things about Jace. Things that will help you when you’re fighting. So I guess I mean . . . can you sense if he’s still alive?” “Clary.” Isabelle sounded worried. “I thought you didn’t . . .” “He’s alive,” Alec said cautiously. “You think I’d be this functional if he weren’t alive? There’s definitely something fundamentally wrong. I can feel that much. But he’s still breathing.” “Could the ‘wrong’ thing be that he’s being held prisoner?” said Clary in a small voice. Alec looked toward the windows, the sheeting gray rain. “Maybe. I can’t explain it. I’ve never felt anything like it before.” “But he’s alive.” Alec looked at her directly then. “I’m sure of it.” “Then screw the Council. We’ll find him ourselves,” Clary said. “Clary . . . if that were possible . . . don’t you think we already would have—,” Alec began. “We were doing what the Clave wanted us to do before,” said Isabelle. “Patrols, searches. There are other ways.” “Ways that break the Law, you mean,” said Alec. He sounded hesitant. Clary hoped he wasn’t going to repeat the Shadowhunters’ motto when it came to the Law: Sed lex, dura lex. “The Law is harsh, but it is the Law.” She didn’t think she could take it. “The Seelie Queen offered me a favor,” Clary said. “At the fireworks party in Idris.” The memory of that night, how happy she’d been, made her heart contract for a moment, and she had to stop and regain her breath. “And a way to contact her.” “The Queen of the Fair Folk gives nothing for free.” “I know that. I’ll take whatever debt it is on my shoulders.” Clary remembered the words of the faerie girl who had handed her the bell. You would do anything to save him, whatever it cost you, whatever you might owe to Hell or Heaven, would you not? “I just want one of you to come with me. I’m not good with translating faerie-speak. At least if you’re with me you can limit whatever the damage is. But if there’s anything she can do—” “I’ll go with you,” Isabelle said immediately. Alec looked at his sister darkly. “We already talked to the Fair Folk. The Council questioned them extensively. And they can’t lie.” “The Council asked them if they knew where Jace and Sebastian were,” Clary said. “Not if they’d be willing to look for them. The Seelie Queen knew about my father, knew about the angel he summoned and trapped, knew the truth about my blood and Jace’s. I think there’s not much that happens in this world that she doesn’t know about.” “It’s true,” said Isabelle, a little animation entering into her voice. “You know you have to ask faeries the exact right things to get useful information out of them, Alec. They’re very hard to question, even if they do have to tell the truth. A favor, though, is different.” “And its potential for danger is literally unlimited,” said Alec. “If Jace knew I let Clary go to the Seelie Queen, he’d—” “I don’t care,” Clary said. “He’d do it for me. Tell me he wouldn’t. If I were missing—” “He’d burn the whole world down till he could dig you out of the ashes. I know,” Alec said, sounding exhausted. “Hell, you think I don’t want to burn down the world right now? I’m just trying to be . . .” “An older brother,” said Isabelle. “I get it.” Alec looked as if he were fighting for control. “If something happened to you, Isabelle—after Max, and Jace—” Izzy got to her feet, went across the room, and put her arms around Alec. Their dark hair, precisely the same color, mixed together as Isabelle whispered something into her brother’s ear; Clary watched them with not a little envy. She had always wanted a brother. And she had one now. Sebastian. It was like always wanting a puppy for a pet and being handed a hellhound instead. She watched as Alec tugged his sister’s hair affectionately, nodded, and released her. “We should all go,” he said. “But I have to tell Magnus, at least, what we’re doing. It wouldn’t be fair not to.” “Do you want to use my phone?” Isabelle asked, offering the battered pink object to him. Alec shook his head. “He’s waiting downstairs with the others. You’ll have to give Luke some kind of excuse too, Clary. I’m sure he’s expecting you to go home with him. And he says your mother’s been pretty sick about this whole thing.” “She blames herself for Sebastian’s existence.” Clary got to her feet. “Even though she thought he was dead all those years.” “It’s not her fault.” Isabelle pulled her golden whip down from where it hung on the wall and wrapped it around her wrist so that it looked like a ladder of shining bracelets. “No one blames her.” “That never matters,” said Alec. “Not when you blame yourself.” In silence, the three of them made their way through the corridors of the Institute, oddly crowded now with other Shadowhunters, some of whom were part of the special commissions that had been sent out from Idris to deal with the situation. None of them really looked at Isabelle, Alec, or Clary with much curiosity

[angelavengedinspo-blog]

“The next words tumbled out of her mouth without any volition on her part. “Have you and Isabelle ever—dated?” Now he did look at her. The moonlight leached the color out of his eyes. They were more silver than gold now. “Isabelle?” he said blankly. “I thought—” Now she felt even more awkward. “Simon was wondering.” “Maybe he should ask her.” “I’m not sure he wants to,” Clary said. “Anyway, never mind. It’s none of my business.” He smiled unnervingly. “The answer is no. I mean, there may have been a time when one or the other of us considered it, but she’s almost a sister to me. It would be strange.” “You mean Isabelle and you never—” “Never,” said Jace. “She hates me,” observed Clary. “No, she doesn’t,” he said, to her surprise. “You just make her nervous, because she’s always been the only girl in a crowd of adoring boys, and now she isn’t anymore.” “But she’s so beautiful.” “So are you,” said Jace, “and very different from how she is, and she can’t help but notice that. She’s always wanted to be small and delicate, you know. She hates being taller than most boys.”

[angelavengedinspo-blog]

“He’s probably at home lying in a puddle of his own drool. Just wait till Isabelle gets bored with him and you have to pick up the pieces.” “Is Isabelle likely to get bored with him?” Clary asked. Jace thought about this. “Yes,” he said. Clary wondered if perhaps Isabelle was smarter than Jace gave her credit for. Maybe she would realize what an amazing guy Simon was: how funny, how smart, how cool. Maybe they’d start dating. The idea filled her with a nameless horror.