𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘.

charlie saw it as his duty, both as a delacroix and as a vampire, to protect the weaker members of his species. he was old, well accustomed to this world and the threats to his life, and he had long since found a way to neutralize those hazards. where he had once been a weak, terrified mundane, he had become the creature that had once haunted his dreams. now, he was to help the younger generation navigate the world that they’d been drawn into. therefore, he couldn’t understand that way that she dismissed those nelphim that were weaker than her. perhaps they were not skilled fighters, but they were gifted diplomats or teachers or historians. weren’t those people important in a civilized society as well as soldiers? if he had his way, soldiers would be entirely unnecessary. “i do not think that i will ever understand your way of thinking,” he replied with a little shrug of his shoulders. he had long since accepted that he would never understand the arrogance that seemed inherent in shadowhunters. raziel himself was a superior creature, but it was evident in his creation that he’d thought a bit too highly of himself and of them. charlie had lived amongst shadowhunters for enough centuries now that he’d become some odd mixture of entertained and exasperated by their boasting. strange creatures these were. “death is nothing to be afraid of,” charlie shook his head. “it is a gift at the end of a long life. peace in the wake of chaos. people are afraid that they do not know what comes next.” but it hadn’t mattered to charlie in years. he craved finality. this world had not been exciting in ages now, and he had become accustomed to its charms. 

his gaze flitted over the painting before him as she spoke. charlie observed the scene curiously, the red smears of blood amidst the handsome old fashioned landscape of london. there was something beautiful in the madness. he took in the faces, the shape of the seraph blades, the cobbles of the street, and he tilted his head as if it were all that mattered to him. in truth, however, he was rather intrigued by the young woman standing beside him. there was some beauty in her madness as well, he thought, glancing sideways at her. she seemed bloodthirsty, more so than he’d been since he’d turned, and yet there was something more to her. what kind of person spent so much time with someone that she didn’t even seem to care much for? “the lab?” charlie shook his head slightly, evidently not understanding exactly what she meant by the words. he knew that there were a great many facilities in the london institute, but this was the first that he’d heard of a lab. and more interesting still, she claimed that the ones in it could no longer communicate. in his mind he worked to fit the pieces together, and quickly gathered that her work was with the dead. “and what do the sleeping tell you of our dear city’s troubles? perhaps they have told you a cause?” if he knew what to search for, he would be more effective in his hunt. he smirked. “i was going to accuse you of murderous thoughts. i am glad you see that i am more worth your time alive than dead.” still, he didn’t fear death. “should death come tomorrow, i will scold him for being late. not a bit late either.” he huffed softly. with that, his gaze retuned to the picture. 

it was all that he could do not to think of her. in this painting, in the shape of the homely woman next to it, he could see her. the pleading look on her face, the blood on his hands, the heartbreak that still threatened to tear him apart. charlie didn’t care to talk about his wife. it was hard enough to always think of her. “as would i,” he responded curtly. discussing his beloved with someone that seemed to laugh in the face of tragedy, was not his intention. what came next, however, was nearly equally frustrating. at once, charlie scrunched up his nose. he hate that name. it was old, a reminder of days that he wished to forget, and it marked him as an outsider. he was an englishman now, as he had been for a few hundred years, and he had long since perfected the english accent. telltale signs of his native language, or any of the other dozens of languages that he’d picked up, were not to be found when he spoke. “karl.” he spat the name as if it were poison. “how did you learn of that?” he shook his head. this would simply not do. why did she insist upon seeing him squirm? couldn’t she simply let him be? shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of the old name. “you haven not told me, no, and i would prefer it if you called me by charlie.” she wouldn’t listen. she would never listen. polite requests didn’t seem to register in her mind, only violence, and he wouldn’t stoop to such lows to get her to say his name properly. he had his own ways of getting even. a coy smirk pulled across his lips, and he shrugged his shoulders. “perhaps i am so foolish,” he replied plainly. “you know very little of me.” in truth, he didn’t mind what she thought of him. whether she thought him a fool or a friend, he was more intrigued by her mortality. she would grow and change before his eyes, perhaps into a softer person or even crueler, and he found such transformation in such a short lifespan impossibly fascinating. 

this didn’t come as unexpected, there was only one person who could understand her way of thinking. her parabatai. she didn’t understand herself completely either, of course she wouldn’t expect others to do so. angelique didn’t want to be understood, she wanted to be feared. the truth is that she had a weird way of thinking. she aimed for glory, despite knowing that the path is filled with gore. she wanted to be a living legend but she didn’t want anyone to stand by her side other than her parabatai. throughout her life, she saw so many succesful women taken down by men who claimed that they are the reason behind their fame. she decided not to let that happen to her. she could never get romantically attached to a man, she saw them as nothing but play things that waited to be used. she thought that the only way to achieve her goal is to freeze her heart, to let people believe that she doesn’t have one. by now, it worked just fine. she was pleased with herself, other people’s opinions were meaningless to her. “death is something none of us can avoid, not even immortals. it takes some time to accept this but once you do, you’re not afraid of it anymore. you just try to be the best version of yourself so you can postpone your death. i don’t see it as a gift but more as a impediment. but again, i don’t expect you to agree with me.”

angelique noticed he was studying her but kept silent on it. she was used to people watching her carefully, no matter what their reason might be. some did it to admire her features, others to search for a hint of insecurity or weakness, something to blow up what they thought as a facade. in reality, there was no such thing to be found. angelique was just a bold person, saying everything she thinks out loud, not really caring about people’s feelings, always looking for a fight, whether it is physical or an altercation. she tilted her head. “yes, the lab. dead people tell plenty of secrets, you’d be surprised. actually, that reminds me.. i’ve seen many mundane corpses in the lab lately and they all have one thing in common — fang marks. i was supposed to tell this to isabel but since i’ve found you, i can ask you for details. spill,” she said. angelique would usually go for a threatening tone but not this time. there’s no way she could intimidate him like this. she would rather ask questions. “none of them revealed a cause, only hints and they all lead to vampires. murderous thoughts? huh, i guess i’m not as unpredictable as i’d like to be. however, i wasn’t planning on killing you. i have plenty of targets, don’t worry.” her smirk never left her lips. the man who stood in front of her was complicated, incredibly hard to read but also.. interesting. challenging. “in my experience, death doesn’t come when you want it to. it surrounds you at first, steals the life of the people that mean the most to you, waits for you to get over it and then decides it’s your turn to die. it sounds pretty painful to me, that’s why i decided not to care. i have nothing to lose, nothing to gain from death and it makes things slightly easier,” she confessed. in reality, the only people she was afraid to lose were atlas and her brother. other than that, the world could perish right before her eyes and she wouldn’t even flinch.

his best kept secrets had long been buried with the dead. murdering his wife in his post-transformation, going half mad with grief and the realization of his immortality, his fleeting love for mortals and his part in the world wars. charlie, too, had been a warrior once, but he had put that person behind him. he had too much blood on his hands, had seen too many loved ones die far too early, and he’d come to despise violence and combat. perhaps if she lived for as long as he did, if angelique had seen the things that he had, she would understand why he felt such distain for violence despite having grown up in an ugly, brutal time. but she was harsh and hardened, despite her youth. a little frown pulled across his lips. he didn’t like to think of shadowhunters who’d been chased from their place as guardians because of her harsh words. it didn’t seem like her place to decide who was fit for the role and who wasn’t, but he kept his mouth shut. he didn’t know what it meant to be a nelphim, he didn’t fully understand their responsibilities, so perhaps her criticisms were needed. “is that so? i had not known that weakness was against the law of the clave.” he found it hard to believe. recklessness, yes, but weakness? everyone started off weak. children and bear cubs alike, they were not prepared to fight until they were older, until they had more training. “why do they give your word such merit?” he asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. honestly, charlie wasn’t sure. “you are the singular reason that they succeed or fail? that is a pressing responsibility.” charlie didn’t see the same need for cruelty. his kind were more durable, could survive a great many things even if they were not particularly good at fighting. and unfortunately for some, they could not simply walk away if they were told that they were bad at being a vampire. 

“yes,” he agreed, “this is true, but my life is much longer than yours. so in the end, i think that i win.” whether or not it worked like that, he prodded for a reaction. she was bothered by him, he already knew that of her, and he was curious to see what would make her angry and what might convince her to loosen up a bit and enjoy herself. if she insisted upon remaining in his company, he didn’t want to have to deal with the insults and goading. 

talk of his wife always made him ache. it had been hundred of years since he’d last seen her, and he could still feel the blood on his hands. his expression hardened, as if to protect himself from these ugly thoughts, and he nodded briefly. “yes,” charlie murmured. “i did not keep her a secret. you never asked about her, nor are we friends, so i don’t see why i would tell you such personal things.” he could hear the defensiveness in his tone. it betrayed him. she was clever enough to realize that there was something hidden beneath his words, and he could only hope that she wouldn’t ask. to have her prod him for those memories were so painful and private and personal. his gaze locked on the painting, as if it were his anchor. like him, it was unchanging, and oh how he needed something to stable in this moment. “they are nothing alike. i merely admire the artist’s work.” the words were short, clipped, sounding a bit more like his native german. her eyes were on him now, watching for every minute reaction, and he tried to force himself to loosen up. it was in the past. so, so long in the past, he shouldn’t be this upset about her death. the pain should have worn away by now. he sighed, a long breath of air, and pressed his eyes closed briefly. he needed to learn to let it go, he couldn’t let himself be eaten alive again every time he brought her up. he had spent centuries in such a state already. it was talk of the talented artist that let him refocus his attention. much as she frustrated him, as he found her aggravating, charlie had to admit that he was intrigued by her. “i did, but i hadn’t realized he would bother to paint someone like this.” he studied her once more before moving onto the next painting. “you forget that i am old. ancient even. i know better than to listen to menial gossip and i assure you that i have my sources. do you think you can tell me something that i don’t already know?” he asked, letting just a bit of personality color his expression again.

“it is not against the law,” she clarified her words. “but it is for the best. the last time demons breached into the institute, the elite had to protect the weak ones before they could deal with the real threat which, in my opinion, was a waste of time. it might not have left too much damage behind but all these could’ve been avoided if it weren’t for some scared shadowhunters. believe me, the nephilim species can be pretty useless because most of us cannot understand what their duty is. i get it, being afraid of death is perfectly normal but it is our job to protect this city from demons and people who tend to forget about this don’t do anything but waste our air.” angelique was aware of how harsh her words were but she had never been one to look for a nice way to say things. “no, it’s not my duty to select the soldiers but since most of them look up to me, it would be such a waste of opportunity to keep my mouth shut. think about it. they might not believe that i’m right about their lack of skills so they want to spar with me just to test it out. most of them end up realizing that they were wrong about this in the first two minutes, some of them try to make it to the entire training session. they can see it with their own eyes, i just like to point out things beforehand. my job in this institute, besides slaying demons and protecting our guests, is not related to the army assignments. i’m working in the lab, trying to get answers from people that are not able to speak anymore.” of course she was proud of her job, how could she not be? many would say that this is not something a woman should do but little did she care about other people’s opinion. she loved her job, it was one of the few things that could stimulate her brain and she found it rather intriguing to discover the story told by what is left of a great warrior.

a short chuckle escaped her lips. “you might be immortal but that doesn’t mean you can’t be killed,” she pointed out, “yes, you have been alive for a long time but you never know what might or might not happen tomorrow. no, i do not intend to murder you, if that’s what you think so i guess we can go on with this little argument of ours. or we can stop and pretend it never happened. it is entirely up to you.”

“and what do you know of my guilty pleasures?” charlie mused. not much, he figured. his pleasures came in the little victories won in diplomatic feats, in talking an enemy down, in learning a new language, in perfecting a new accent, in blending in seemlessly with his surrounding so he could pretend to be real for a moment rather than the immortal monster he’d been made into. those moments, in which he could forget how meaningless his life truly was, were some of his favorites over the past centuries. but how could she possibly understand what that was like? she was mortal, living life to its fullest, and though he didn’t necessarily agree with what she did, he envied her. “and what is the good in getting them to quit? more often than not they will become your enemies, i see no good in that.” he shook his head. embarrassment turned to anger easily for most people, boiling until it became hatred. to chase those that were underperforming from the institute would only end in more anger. one might push themselves to be stronger but in an attempt at revenge. or worse, harsh words might make one give up entirely. no, he’d lashed out at one point in his life, he had taken his anger and misery out on others, and it had hurt him in the end. 

that thought, however, had him glancing down at her out of the corner of his eye. was that why she acted the way that she did? was she cruel because she was angry or miserable? it certainly made sense given her behavior, but he hadn’t the slightest idea what someone like her would have to be upset over. he didn’t know enough about her. perhaps he would have to do some investigating in the hopes of learning more about her motives.

a short laugh bubbled from his lips. the tiniest of smiles pulled across his expression, but it left just as quickly. he knew that he came off as odd on occasion, air headed even, but he didn’t care much what people thought. the years had eaten him from the inside out, leaving him but a shell of the person that he was. let them gawk. “i think it gawking,” he replied with a little shake of his head. “but i suppose we will have to agree to disagree, hm?” in all honesty, charlie wasn’t sure whether angelique found him interesting or just plain strange, if it was the latter he didn’t much care to be someone’s freak show. and the thought taking her out on a date, especially when he wasn’t certain of her motives, made him feel oddly unbalanced. “because you think that i am odd,” he retorted, "besides, i am married, i have no interest in taking other women out.” he had been married, but it had been centuries now. despite all of that, however, he had remained loyal. he had not been with another. "you did not say it, nor did you have to. it’s rather implicit in the way you act toward me.” her mention of the painting gave him pause. he glanced at the painting, studying the fine brush strokes, and he realized that she was right. yes, a rembrandt. it had to be. he blinked, taking in the woman for the first time. suddenly the painting had some context. what he found more interesting, however, was the young woman standing beside him. his gaze fell to her, studying her more carefully this time. “how very intriguing.” he murmured. “and where, dare i ask, did you learn all of that?”

“not much but that doesn’t mean it has to stay like this,” she replied. angelique didn’t know much about this, let alone his guilty pleasures. she just assumed he was nothing like her. being a cold-hearted bitch wasn’t the only thing she enjoyed. loud parties, strangers, sleepless nights, skyline views, late night trainings, science and, well.. being the best. these are only a few of the things that made her who she is. in those moments, angelique could finally disconnect herself from the routine of her life. she could forget about her problems for a short amount of time and succumb to the pleasures of life. it didn’t last for long, of course, but it was better than nothing. her sweet escape from the living hell that she called a life. “nah, not really. i know some nephilim that gave up their runes and steles due to realizing that they aren’t helpful at all. i may or may not have something to do with it. they don’t really have a choice, they either stand by the rules of the clave or they go back to living a mundane life. i don’t think any of them ended up sided to the renegade, although i can’t be sure. there were others that actually thanked me for behaving like this, they are now part of the elite,” she simply said, shrugging shortly after. “that’s how the shadow world works. you’re either a hunter or a prey. i just happen to be a living reminder of this. i refuse to be hunted down, i’d rather be the one that pulls the trigger. or, in my case, uses the whip.”

never in her life had angelique let herself be weak. she knew she was going to make it to the golden book of the greatest shadowhunters that roamed the earth. she had to. it was the only way she could prove to herself that she did the right choices and to prove that her parents were wrong all this time. she lost contact with them but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for her. she was the ice queen, after all. she could never be bothered by such an insignificant detail.

“people’s tears bring you joy?” charlie raised an eyebrow slightly, as if she’d just started to speak in a language that he hadn’t yet learned. nelphim were proud creatures, he knew that much, but he hadn’t anticipated that they took joy in upsetting others. frankly, he wasn’t all  that impressed. “how very oafish.” charlie respected warrior culture, he understood that sometimes violence was the most logical means to an end, but he’d never preferred it. when charlie had attacked another being, be it another vampire or even a shadowhunter, he’d done so only when it was the last possible resort. those that he hurt, or even killed, would not stop until they had whatever despicable thing they’d desired. charlie shrugged his shoulders. “nor do i understand how you take pleasure in making others bleed. such cruelties are typically expected of vampires, not shadowhunters.” he sighed softly. “i suppose we shall have to agree to disagree, hm? of course, if you’ve never outwitted someone, convinced someone to see something the way that you do, it’s quite empowering.” charlie took great pride in his ability to trick others into seeing things his way, to convince clever foes to begin alliances with the delacroix family and to think that it was their idea. battle was a brutish, ugly thing. 

he sighed softly. “i do not understand you.” charlie confessed with a little shake of his head. one moment she seemed to despise him, to think him troublesome and strange, and the next she demanded his attention wholly. he was not permitted to have a say in this, of course, if she joined him, his attention was to be hers alone. “you were gawking,” he retorted with a sideways glance. “if i recall you found my reminiscing quite amusing. perhaps i misunderstood?” doubtful. it wasn’t hard to tell what she thought of him. as far as angelique was concerned, she probably thought he lost his mind nearly three hundred years ago. and maybe he had. it hadn’t been easy to keep himself sane, to salvage what bits of his personality he could. “i do not think it wise to ask you on a date,” he replied, a little smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “first, i am quite sure that you would reject me, and second, i don’t particularly enjoy the company of people that find me annoying. it radiates off of you.” his eyes turned up toward the woman in the painting. “in truth? no, i did not know her. i wasn’t in london during this time period… probably for the best if she was thought lovely enough to paint a picture of.”

angelique shrugged as if it was something normal to feel good while making people cry. “i’ve been told to have a mean streak. judge me as much as you want, you have your own guilty pleasures and so do i,” she replied as she rolled her eyes. “it’s for the greater good. most people understand how useless and weak they are. some tend to improve themselves, some quit. it’s just the natural order of things but of course you have to take it as a stupid thing to do.” angelique was pretty proud of where she stood. she was part of the elite and, one day, she might become the best forensic pathologist this world has ever seen. she wasn’t expecting him to understand. just the fact that he called himself royalty made her want to vomit. she was never the girl to believe in prince charming and his white horse. she thought that royal families were nothing but bullshit. using their titles and privileges to hide the fact that they aren’t special at all. that worked for the delacroix family too. they were a bunch of vampires, who weren’t even blood related, that proclaim to have blue blood running through their veins just to seem better than other downworlders. he claims that he works as a diplomat for his species but why do the conflicts between the downworld species still exist if he is as great as he says he is? “i’d rather let people choose. they can stand by my side, or they can say goodbye to another sunrise. easy as that, nothing complicated. you’d be surprised to see the results.

it was her turn to panic, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly. almost. “… what do you mean?” what were those two up to? she knew she shouldn’t have helped with that portal, but lexi had promised her that she would be okay – then again, the warlock never made atlas promise her anything, he had ran past her without a second thought and had only managed to spare pandora a look. lexi had told her that it wasn’t meant to be a very public mission, which she understood. but now that someone could be hurt… “okay, okay,” she tried to calm her friend down, but if she was being honest she wasn’t at all at ease herself. and what did angelique mean when she said the pain subsided so quickly? “i-, uh, i’m not sure… we could try to track them, but…” she was nervous, knowing how upset the other would be if she knew what had really happened. she had read about how strong the bonds of parabatai were, how tied to each other they became as soon as the dark scrawl of the rune was placed on their skin – if atlas was in trouble, it could be like living hell for the girl. “angelique, i just don’t think its a good idea…”

as elitist as shadowhunters were, they tended to be a rather brutish bunch. most drew their weapons before they ever tried to talk things through, to smooth things over, and it had given them a rather poor reputation amongst many downworlders. having lived amongst them for centuries now, charlie had become used to their warrior-like culture but statements like these never failed to disappoint. they saw themselves the protectors of the downworld, and oftentimes they caused as much trouble as the forces that they fought against. “diplomacy has a place in every world, it is what sets mankind apart from the beasts. we are not driven on instinct alone but on culture, tradition, politics…” he listed a few. “if not for diplomatic deals made by shadowhunters and the delacroix clan, you and i would not be standing here as we are.” instead he’d have tried to bury his fangs in her throat, would have tried to suck the life from her. he shrugged. perhaps she thought little of diplomatic work, but it had been his most passionate interest for ages. art was yet another of his interests. he loved that its styles and practices changed, but the artwork done in the past remained a relic of that time. this painting before him, with the scowling woman, was made of the same carefully crafted paints and handmade paintbrushes of the 1600s. oh, how he loved the art from those years. in speaking to the art, he half hoped that she would spit a few insults at him and leave him be, but she was far too stubborn for that. he raised an eyebrow as she berated the painting, and found himself glancing down at her out of the corner of his eye. “we were not having a conversation, as i recall.” he reminded her. “you said that you would merely stand here and watch.” he sighed softly, as if disappointed in a boorish child. “you say that you’re bored but you won’t do anything about it. why is it that you would rather stand here and gawk at me?” a short, soft sound of laughter left him, accompanied by the roll of his eyes, it was better not to humor her chattering about dates. he wouldn’t speak of such silly things.

when lexi had asked her to make the portal, pandora was quick to hesitate. she knew the fire-haired girl wouldn’t have been able to go to anyone else for the task, just like she knew that whatever mission the shadowhunter had set herself in idris was definitely not going to be approved by the officials. yet as intriguing as that fact was, it wasn’t the reason pandora agreed to go through with helping lexi get there. no, it was the reassurance in her words, the desperate determination in her eyes when she asked. the young warlock couldn’t deny her friend something she seemed so passionate about, and when atlas had ran past her in a haste to jump through the portal as well, she didn’t stop him. she trusted the two of them, believe it or not. when she felt the tap on her shoulder a few hours later, looking up from the book in her palm, the worried expression flushed across angelique’s face and  through her frantic explanation made her heart beat quicken – what did they do? she focused her attention on her best friend, putting down the text and keeping her tone calm. “what feeling? did something happen?” oh god, maybe the portal was a mistake… “have you tried tracking him?”