#leuthros

[snakedhand]

∑ - “You don't get it, Clary. You don't understand what it's like to live always at war, to grow up with battle and sacrifice. I guess it's not your fault. It's just how you were brought up-” Isabelle had to stop herself, she was about to ram the law is the law down Clary's throat but she didn’t want to be like her brother, heck both Lightwood’s were slowly falling in love with Downworlders - or once downworlders - and that was against the law. She didn’t want to be a hypocrite, it wasn’t fair on Clary that she didn’t know everything, the pain of loss in battle, Isabelle was going to try and help. “Sorry, I just want to help... I just don’t know how to.”

@leuthros liked for a canon dialogue starter

[ofangelicbloodisgone]

The assignment had been clear; infiltrate the Institute and send information back on the location of the Mortal Instruments. It wasn't that difficult for him to do no matter what Valentine like to tell him. The only problem was sending a message back to his father. He couldn't do it in a normal way. If he tried to send a fire message or if he tried to meet Valentine in public the Clave would find out and all of their work would be for naught. Instead, he had to get creative and find other ways of sending messages. At the moment Jace hunted down Circle members under the guise of bringing them in to send messages back to Valentine. It seemed to be working and sometimes they would have messages for him in return. This time he actually had some information for Valentine, information that he would only divulge in person and it was why he'd spent the better part of the night hunting for the messenger.

Life at the Institute wasn't easy and with Alec Lightwood as his parabatai it was even more difficult. Almost everything he did seemed to be questioned and him going out into the city was just the most recent thing to be interrogated over. After the promise of bringing food back, he was finally allowed to leave on his own. He wasn't certain where the messenger would be. Most of the time he tended to stumble upon them. Tonight, though, was different. He needed to find them and he needed to set up the meeting with Valentine. His first two stops had yielded nothing and it wasn't until he reached the third spot that Jace found the messenger he knew was supposed to be there. It wasn't going to be easy since he needed it to look like he was actually trying to bring him in. Eventually, he had the other against the wall. "Tell Val — " The sound of footsteps caught his attention and he dropped the other with two quick punches. "Tell Valentine I need to meet with him," he whispered, kicking the other one last time before turning his attention to the others.

"I'd suggest walking away from this if I were you." Two on one wasn't great odds but he was certain he could handle it. He had to take care of it since Alec wasn't going to be there to help him. Valentine would also remind him he was weak if he couldn't handle something like this.

@leuthros

[takeseffort-a]

@leuthros ;; 

a scoff, and she wanted to throw her hands up in exasperation.

          ❛ trust me, i don’t know what i’m doing anymore than you do.   ❜

of course that came out wrong, and clary was shaking her head, as if to prevent any offense before she could explain herself. she wasn’t exactly looking at him, but at the lines that curled out and spoke to her in a way that she now knew was unique only to her. all of this was so new, and clary had no idea how to control the things she had learned she could do ——the talents she’d apparently inherited. sighing — a defeated kind of sound, as if already aware that alec would never really accept her — she looked up.

          ❛  i don’t mean you don’t know what you’re doing ——i mean, i’m as confused about myself as you are about me. ❜   it felt as though she was tripping over the explanation even more — a part of her feeling as though she didn’t owe alec an explanation at all — and finally clary tucked the stele back into her pocket and stared off into the distance as if the horizon could offer her any answers.

          ❛  sorry, ❜   she murmured to no one in particular, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for in the first place, and glanced back down at the rune she had drawn.    ❛  think it’ll work ?  ❜

     he feels the tension radiating off of her & it’s doing nothing to settle his own frustrations. at the comment, though, he raises an eyebrow but bites his tongue with unusual patience. it’s not in his nature to hold back but he’s learning that with Clary, barreling ahead doesn’t always get him the results he wants. exhaling, he counts down as he lets a strong, measured sigh rattle through his teeth as the only warning that she’s edging along the boundaries of his calculated & limited patience. he doesn’t need to give her more than that; clary knows.

     and then, like that, it dissipates under the weight of a better explanation. he shrugs as if he doesn’t care, but gone is the fault line of irritation waiting to erupt at the slightest further provocation. it can lay dormant for now, but at least for now it’s been soothed & he can move on to more important matters. he’s learning. he knew part of who he was, part of the life he’s been raised in means he’ll be a student in many ways until the day he drops but this is something he hadn’t EXPECTED to learn. he feels a little old for personal revelations, after all, but the patience he’s cultivating has started to change him. maybe even for the better. but even so, that’s still not important right now, so he shelves that realization & moves on.

     ❛  it’s not something you need to apologize for. ❜ the next thing he says surprises even himself. ❛  all of us were new to all the REST of this at some point. guess I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have questions. ❜ he shrugs, as he looks at the paper. ❛  what’s it do? ❜ there’s no point in them fighting; they’re on the same side. so why can’t he channel more of this more often? his temper will be the death of him, he knows, but at least for right now maybe he has a grip on it. 

[doighfuar-blog]

@leuthros ✉︎

      ❝ Will you be invisible for this unknown venture? ❞

       Kieran had the temptation to sigh, he couldn’t tell if the two girls were just trying to convince him to wear their gear for their own entertainment or if they seriously expected their gear to actually hide his true nature. He almost did it, for Mark, for Cristina, but the idea of being the center of a joke was unappealing to him. He was a prince after all. ❝ You believe wearing your gear, among mundanes, would not cause alarm? Your attire is not common placed. You would be better off procuring something mundane with a hood. ❞

       That in itself sounded distasteful to him, the material alone was an aggravation, even on others. He missed his cloak. ❝ My eyes will still show, unless you have a bigger hood. ❞ Shruggling his shoulder after pausing to actually think about it after a fashion, he crinkles his nose in displeasure. ❝ I could always hide amongst the shadows. ❞ Which would only cause a problem if they were going out during the day, he frowns deeply at her humour her comment. He would only humour two Nephilim & neither of them were in the room.

[seraphinam]

@leuthros

A sister. A twin. 

A collection of confused, angry, and broken-hearted thoughts had taken up residence in Seraphina’s mind ever since this truth was revealed to her. How could her father not have told her she had a sister? How could her mother have abandoned two children while keeping one all to herself? What made this other girl so special that she was the only one Jocelyn Fairchild could love?

She needed to know. That’s why she was here. One little portal had taken her to the brownstone they’d discovered belonged to the “Frays,” and a single opening rune got her into the apartment once she’d entered the building. It struck her immediately how home-y the entire place looked, like people actually lived there. No, like they had lives there. Pictures, belongings, knick-knacks -- all things that weren’t in high quantity at her own home. The Morgenstern cottage had been small, cold, and practical. They didn’t have much more furnishing their home than what they needed. After all, the family was hiding from those who wished ill upon her father. It wasn’t the home they may have known if circumstances were different.

The redhead felt increasingly more bitter about the life lived within these walls as she wandered into her room. Clarissa. In particular, she immediately frowned at the sight of a sketchbook and a jar full of pencils. It would seem they inherited similar skills from their mother, except this daughter had been allowed to pracitce it while Sera had been actively discouraged and punished for wasting time (and reminding Valentine too much of his wife). In a small act of petty “revenge,” Sera grasped the jar of pencils and pressed it right into a page of the sketchbook. The physical object disappeared into nothing more than lines and shading on paper. 

“Hmpf. Let’s see you figure that one out, sister.” 

[youngbloodtma-blog]

if emma had a sister,   she wishes it could have been clary.  in the wake of her parents’ death,  it had been the blackthorns who were there as well as clary   (  and maybe jace to an extent  ),   and she had been around enough to listen to emma vent out her frustrations about different topics.  emma adores clary and looks up to her   (  maybe a lot more than she’ll ever look up to jace herondale,  but she’ll never tell anyone that  )   and now,  she’s also developed a sort of understanding regarding clary’s choices when she had been around emma’s age.  her respect for clary has been strengthened,  and she’d be lying if she said that she doesn’t think of clary as family.

          she knocks softly on the door of the older girl’s bedroom,  hoping that clary’s not asleep yet.  emma would feel guilty if she interrupted clary’s rest before an important mission.  but she couldn’t quite let this go either.     “  clary?  are you awake?  can we talk?  “   she calls from the other side of the door,  biting her lip in nervousness.

@leuthros  /  plotted.

[personatvs-archive]

@leuthros // because cris tells me i make too many starters for her then asks for a thing.

        ❛  --- there are things i wouldn’t EXPECT you to understand, clarissa. time tells more stories than we want to admit. ❜

[lilithblooded]

first contact

@leuthros​ gets a plotted thing <3

          Patience was of the essence. Jonathan knew that, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He had been watching her for weeks, studying the places she visited, the people she met, the way she behaved and talked and moved.. they’d never been face to face but he felt as if he knew her better than most. She was even more beautiful than he had imagined her after he’d learned of her existence, a good mix between her parents. She shared a few of her mother’s delicate features, but despite this resemblance Jonathan felt no reluctance toward meeting her. Clarissa was not her mother. She would not reject him.      It was late evening, the occasional ray of moonlight shining through between skyscrapers and most of the people crossing the streets of New York seemed eager to get home. Jonathan stood still like a statue, leaned against a wall opposite of a small café. She had been sitting in there for the last hour or so, nose-deep in a drawing pad and occasionally sipping at her (constantly refilling) coffee mug. Despite his FASCINATION for her, Jonathan was starting to feel boredom bubble up inside of him. (Clearly, he wasn’t the best at being patient.) Luckily in that very moment Clarissa seemed to decide that it was time to leave. Jonathan watched her shove her things into her bag and head for the door, saying something to the waitress as she passed her by.      He pushed himself off the wall and crossed the street, never taking his eyes off his sister. No one else was paying attention to him, invisible as he was to their eyes due to his glamour. Clarissa stepped out into the streets and for a moment the music from the café followed her into the streets. Some boring guitar mix that Jonathan hated from the first note he heard. Then the door fell closed and there was only the noise of distant traffic surrounding them. Jonathan waited for her to start moving and followed her with a careful distance. There weren’t too many people around and other than them, Clarissa possessed the SIGHT. If she paid attention, she would be able to see them - and he couldn’t allow that, at least not right away.      They walked a few blocks, fewer and fewer people crossing their path, and Jonathan always staying in the shadows. It didn’t seem safe for someone raised a mundane, like Clarissa, to walk around the city all by herself at this hour. (Yet another shortcoming of her mother.) But if Jonathan had learned one thing about his sister, it was that she was brave. They reached a less busy area with smaller streets, less apartment buildings and more houses with gardens. Not much further and they would reach the building in which she lived. Jonathan would find it in his sleep by now.

     Something rustled in the bushes near the street ahead of Clarissa and Jonathan stopped dead in his tracks. A low, rattling breath followed the sudden movement and then something dark and unshapely with far too many legs (or hands) crawled out from between the greenery. A Dahak demon. Jonathan smiled, and his hand wandered to the hilt of his sword as the demon let out a roar and started toward Clarissa.