( blood of the angel )

       Alec was beginning to seriously question this entire city. Where was the line? Surely there must be one, a line for the kinds of people that lived here. There had to be some sort of rules, or everything would have fallen into chaos a long time ago. And yet here, before his eyes, a rather large, bulky woman with what looked like some sort of gem for a nose glared icily at him from across the walkway, her hostility almost palpable. Alec didn’t actually know what he’d done to offend her, but both her appearance and the fact the he had offended her baffled him. He hadn’t actually been doing anything wrong, only meandering along one of the many park paths, when she’d made her appearance. Alec could only wonder at the source of her hostility.

       Fashion was a lost cause on Alec, whose favorite outfit consisted of a ratty pair of jeans and a black sweater so faded it looked gray, tattered at the sleeves and hem. But for his boyfriend, it was like a whole new world. Magnus could do things with clothes that only mystified and confused Alec, and also tried to do things to Alec with clothes that mystified and confused him even more. Magnus’s style was as unique as a thumbprint, and he and Alec had been together long enough for the latter to start recognizing things the former would love. Like unique mixes of glitter, a waistcoat encrusted with sequins, or pants that shimmered different colors in the light.

       Or a carefully-styled dark blue hat with a sparkling whorl of rhinestones running down the side, just like the one he spotted on the head of a girl walking past. She looked about 14, maybe 15, unintimidating and friendly. Alec’s eyes flickered from her hat back to her face, mouth working. He knew that Magnus would love a hat like hers, and also knew that he would probably never find it if he didn’t ask the girl herself. He also knew that his shy nature didn’t want to talk to any strangers, even a young girl such as this, and for a moment he just stood still. Do it for Magnus, he then chided himself, and suddenly he was standing in front of the girl, a sheepish smile on his face.

       It hadn’t taken Alec very long to figure out that the people in this city dressed... oddly. And that some never seemed to change clothes at all. They dressed like what Clary and Simon would refer to as “anime characters”, their outfits ridiculously flashy and outlandish. Alec found himself doing a double-take several times a day at the outfits he saw when walking the streets, immediately followed by a sense of bewilderment. He’d seen strange things at the faerie courts, but he was certain that not even the fey would understand what some of the people here wore. And so it was always a relief to see normal clothing, a physical reminder that some people in this city weren’t so alien to the Shadowhunter. But there were also times where Alec resented the weird clothing styles of the people who lived in the Hive. Like right now, as he watched the coffee he’d just spilled seep into the expensive-looking cloth of the red-haired man’s robe. His mouth opened and closed for a moment, speechless, as Alec blinked rapidly. So much for Shadowhunter reflexes.

       When Alec had woken up in this city, he hadn’t expected anything. He hadn’t allowed himself to get his hopes up, hadn’t let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, someone he knew was here. He tried his best to ignore the hollow space inside his chest where his parabatai connection with Jace usually pulsed, how quiet it seemed without Isabelle to liven things up. He tried not to think of how cold his hands always seemed to be without Magnus’s fingers twining through his own, how dull the days seemed without Max’s bright laughter. Alec tried not to think at all, really, if he could help it. It had never occurred to the Shadowhunter just how dependent he was on his family, not until they’d been taken from him. Not until he’d been left to wander by himself. It was an almost physical pain, constricting the muscles in his throat and chest. Truth be told, he didn’t know what to do.

       Even now, as Alec picked his way carefully down one of the streets of Hive City, the aching hollowness seemed to eat at him from the inside, stretching out to walk beside him in the space where those he loved usually occupied. The way the sun made the glitter in Magnus’s hair sparkle was imprinted on the back of Alec’s eyelids, and he thought he’d do anything to see it again. And then, just like that, like a merciful god had heard the Shadowhunter’s plea, his wish was granted. Out of the corner of his eye, Alec caught the glint of something shiny, and his head turned almost instinctively. And it was as if someone had shot him in the chest.

       Alec couldn’t help but grimace. The grinding sound of the buildings around him filled his ears as they shifted, again, leaving him without any sort of bearings... again. The thought that he might be lost was an irritating one, and one he wanted to avoid at all costs. He was a Shadowhunter, and he’d been trained to keep his bearings, to never lose his way. Especially in a big city like this. This place was reminiscent of New York, almost, in the smog-filled skies and the towering buildings, their window panes glistening silver in the sunlight and turning the structures to mirrors. The whole city glittered, filled with noise and life, and it was so much like home that a hollow ache had formed in Alec’s chest. He wanted to get to his city. Back to Magnus and Max, Izzy and Jace, even Clary and Simon. It was an almost physical pain, being apart from them, not knowing where he was, or even, really, where they were. This swirling whirlpool of confusion and emotions probably weren’t helping Alec’s plight to find his way to the place he’d been given to stay, and he was close to just giving up when he saw the girl.

       She looked friendly enough, if a little scruffy, her skin kissed with a tan that came only from hot, dry places. She was sun-battered and dust-blown, but she also had an open face that almost seemed to welcome others. She reminded him, in a funny, odd sort of way, of Clary. And so, Alec decided to at least take a chance. Ducking his head, the teenager stepped in front of the girl, his expression sheepish.

       Alec was staring. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t even particularly the person his gaze lingered on that he was staring at, but the odd details about him. The sunglasses tucked behind the other boy’s ears were a complete enigma, obnoxiously large and coming to vicious-looking points. Alec couldn’t help but wonder if they actually did anything. He was sure that if he had to, he could throw the thing rather accurately, but were that what they were for? The Shadowhunter hadn’t the faintest clue. The glasses struck him as something Simon would know all about, possibly envy, but they remained a mystery to himself. And then there was the horrible monstrosity that decorated the blonde boy’s arm. What was that? Alec had faced down snarling werewolves, faeries with glittering swords, even Greater Demons. But that? That almost frightened him. It looked like it could come alive at any moment and attack someone. He couldn’t help but shudder at the thought.

       And then Alec froze. He’d been sitting at a table in the outdoor area of a coffee shop, a steaming cup cradled in his hands, his eyes fixed firmly on the stranger. It wasn’t so unusual, and the Nephilim boy was used to being glamoured, anyway—invisible to mundane eyes. His was the luxury of observing the populace without their knowledge, without them even knowing of his existence. But now the glamour Mark was locked away from him, the countless swirling black runes painted across his skin useless, and Alec’s eyes grew wide when he saw the boy heading his way, gaze clearly locked on him. Oh, no.

       If there was one thing Alec was familiar with in this odd world he’d found himself in, it was Downworlders. Fey and warlocks, werewolves and vampires. Those he knew. Those he could deal with. Those were the things he’d been dealing with his whole life. And, even if the Cold Peace had left a deep, hostile rift between those of Alec’s kind and the fey, seeing the slick, wet-looking skin of what the Shadowhunter immediately assumed was a kelpie proved to be a welcome sight. Anything of familiarity in this confusing place wouldn’t be rejected by the Lightwood, even if the other party might not be so receptive. But he had to at least try, if it would bring him a step closer to returning to where he belonged. Hands tucked in his pockets, Alec approached the kelpie with long strides, blue eyes staring out from the fringes of his black bangs.