yawning grave

“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.”

there was one puzzle piece that was missing, something she didn’t know about. her dark eyes never left his as he spoke, she did notice a change in his attitude. how strange, it reminded her of somebody trying not to make it obvious that they are hiding something, something that shouldn’t reach the surface. was he trying to defend himself? maybe it was not the smartest move to push it, no. she could wait and do some research on her own. “you’re right,” she replied. “we aren’t friends. i was just wondering how come i have never heard anyone talk about her. i can’t really stand marriage-related conversations so i’d rather talk about something else.” that was not entirely a lie. she could never imagine herself marrying someone and it did made her uncomfortable to talk about this but there was something else that was telling her it was time to change the subject. she had no idea why, she just felt like it would be better for both of them to chat about something else. she would do her homework on this matter later. “have i ever told you that you’re an interesting man, karl?” angelique mused. she was in fact telling the truth. she found him interesting but that was not the way she would usually talk about men. angelique would objectify them, appreciate nothing but their bodies. however, there was something quite mysterious about him and he managed to catch her attention. “she probably paid him well, i don’t see any other explanation. she was nothing but a dark page in the history of this institute and i’m glad things have changed quickly.” as he moved onto the next painting, angelique followed. “you were curious to find out how i heard about this and i told you how it happened. i’m not talking about regular gossip, i’m not interested by it. i was talking about secrets people might spill without even noticing what they did. at least not until it’s too late. honestly, yeah. i actually believe that there might be some things that i know and you don’t. please don’t tell me you truly think that you know everything there is to know about this world, you’d make a fool out of yourself and it doesn’t sound like you at all.”

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. 

there were no suitable words in any language that could describe how grateful isabel was for her brother. ever since she turned into a vampire, which was such a long time ago, he never hesitated to help her. her brother was always there for her, despite her claiming that she can handle everything by herself. right now, isabel didn’t have the situation under control. she needed him by her side but she couldn’t ask him to come home, she knew that he was probably busy with diplomatic issues. somehow, he showed up just in time. “you look great, karl. don’t worry about it,” she replied, stopping right in front of him. she nodded her head in response. “the fledgelings aren’t the main problem anymore. there’s something else bothering me, but we can’t talk about it here. join me in my office, i’ll gladly share the information with you.” she let out a sigh, trying not to look as worried as she really was. “philomena is here as well, she’s probably checking out the newcomers. our mansion, as large as it might be, doesn’t have many vacant rooms right now. they keep coming and there are many others on the streets.”

“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.

“it was not—” but she didn’t finish her sentence. instead, she let out a little groan of frustration. damn, was there any way she could make him understand that she wasn’t gawking? probably not. it was just a term but it sounded like a silly thing to do so she did not approve it. “we can disagree on this until the end of our lives, it wouldn’t bother me.” her eyes slightly narrowed due to uncertainty. she would’ve known if he was married, angelique was very attentive when it came to details. the lack of the ring made her believe he was either lying or not telling the whole truth. no, something was missing. she was good at many things but when it came to detective work, angelique could proudly call herself a genius. “you’re married, huh?” sadly for him, she became interested. she had to find out what’s going on here, to solve this mystery. she decided to keep silent on her scepticism. “then how come you’re keeping your wife a secret? also, being married did not stop you from gawking at that hideous portrait. i really hope she doesn’t remind you of your significant one, it would be such a waste of your pretty face,” she said. it couldn’t be that hard to notice a change in her attitude, a mood swing. but it was probably not the one he was expecting of. “i’m a straightforward person. i would’ve told you if that was true.” as she noticed him studying her, angelique slowly tilted her head to one side, still smirking like a little devil she was. intriguing, he said, but what was he talking about? the portrait? her knowledge? her? “i’ve heard arthur talk about this painting way too many times, i know everything there is to know about it. he is incredibly proud of it. did you know that rembrandt was actually a warlock? unfortunately, he’s dead. i know that this woman,” she said, gesturing towards the portrait, “did not deserve the honour of being painted by such a great artist. gossip spreads like wildfire, darling. you just have to choose the people you believe carefully.”

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. 

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.

she scoffed. of course he didn’t understand her. there were moments when not even angelique could understand herself. she was aware that she was a pretty complicated person but she didn’t see anything wrong in that. “i was observing,” she corrected him once again. “i do think it was pretty amusing to watch you talk to a piece of canvas, quite strange i might add. but that doesn’t mean i was gawking.” the truth is that she never liked that term and she would never allow anyone to use words she couldn’t stand to describe her. she was that stubborn. a smirk grew up on her lips, mirroring his only a few seconds after. “how can you be so sure i would reject you?” she teased him, softly arching one of her eyebrows. this was getting interesting. “i don’t really wine and dine. i also don’t recall saying you’re annoying.” without glacing towards the painting for the second time, angelique replied. “rembrandt. it portrays a former head of the london institute. she wasn’t beautiful, nor smart. she was more of an idiot, if you ask me.”

“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.

“okay, fine,” angelique replied, almost seeming to agree with him. “diplomacy might be crucial for some people but i’m a warrior. manners are only going to get me killed and, unlike you, i’m not everlasting young. i’m happily living my mortal life, cutting throats open and making people cry in my own way,” she confessed, shrugging lightly. now that she was thinking about it, immortality sounded pretty nice. however, she couldn’t bear to watch the people dear to her while they grow old and die. also, immortal angelique didn’t sound like a good idea, not for the people who did her wrong. it would probably be a curse for the world. besides, out of all the downworld undying species, she would have to become a vampire and beeing blood thirsty was not a fancy idea, not at all. she liked daylight as well. “you do your thing and i do mine. you’re probably satisfied with the life you have, so am i. to be honest, i don’t see how diplomacy can ever be fun, nor entertaining, but i can assure you that kicking ass is great. it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world sometimes.” she nodded her head in response, thinking about the accords. they were done by diplomacy and if it weren’t for them, no downworlders would be allowed in any institute and shadowhunters would probably have to defend themselves and attack the downworld species at the same time. it would be an unnecessarily war, that would do nothing but to distract all of them from fighting their common enemy. “well, as you can already see, we are now having a conversation. unlucky for you, there is nobody else here i can talk to. i’m not gawking at you, i’m talking to you. there’s a difference in that. also, you haven’t answered my question so unless you do that, i’m just going to assume that i was right about it. oh, let me guess, the woman in that portrait was one of your lovers, wasn’t she?” angelique chuckled, wrinkling her nose as she glanced towards the unattractive woman once again.

“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. 

“perhaps,” she almost agreed. “i don’t see how perfect manners might come in handy. i’ve been told that mundanes use them so they could feel in control of the situation, but this is not the case of it. i’m a shadowhunter, you’re a vampire. diplomacy has no use in the shadow world.” throughout her entire life, angelique learned that there is only one efficient way to get things done—by knowing how to threaten people. fear makes them easy to manipulate. the right words said at the right timp, accompanied by some bruises or cuts, and here you go. your problem is solved. she was the type of person that would rather use force to get whatever her heart desires than to use kind, mannered words. it took too long and it wasn’t near as satisfying as kicking ass or blackmailing was. the nephilim scoffed, wondering if the man really thought his joke is funny. she decided to step into his game for a while so she was now facing the portrait of a woman. “excuse me, ma’am, but i believe you’re interrupting our conversation. rest in peace, it’s not such a loss that you aren’t alive anymore,” she said. “not with that look on your face.” angelique’s eyes were now carefully following charlie’s features. enough is enough, she won’t talk to paintings anymore. she moved herself right in front of the portrait, blocking his view. “we are nothing alike. she’s ugly, i’m not. she’s dead, i’m not. at least, not yet but i might soon die of boredom. i’m also not visiting her grave, sorry to disappoint both of you.” and right then, she smirked. that devilish smile could never mean any good. “hold on a second, is it a habit of yours to take women to the graveyard? what an unique date, aren’t you such a hopeless romantic? cute.”

angelique didn’t even bother to reply to his question, the answer was obvious from the look on her face. sadly, there were only a few things that could catch her attention and hearing stories about the past, coming from a man who talks to pieces of stone that can’t hear him and can’t reply to him aren’t on that list. her lips slowly parted but only to let out a short sigh. it wasn’t the first time she heard somebody complaining about her lack of manners but the truth is that she couldn’t care less. she was a soldier, not a princess that needed to learn how to behave. while other women wasted their time by learning those so called manners, she was taught how to use a sword. it didn’t take long until she made her way to the elite of london and, as if that wasn’t enough, angelique discovered another passion of hers—criminology. she came upon some old books and soon found herself studying hard, trying to become the best forensic pathologist there is. with a life like hers, manners were pretty much useless. “sorry to burst your bubble but there are so many things that are considered to be more relevant than my lack of manners, don’t you think?” the shadowhunter snapped back at him, narrowing her eyes. “you can go back to talking with the wall, i don’t mind. just pretend i’m not here, i’ll keep my mouth silent shut.” now this was an attempt to make fun of him. looks like whatever she had to do, could wait a little longer. she just found a new way to keep herself entertained.

angelique leaned against the wall, careful not to touch anything that might break, while listening to what she considered to be nonsense. the man who stood in front of her was literally talking to a carving and he seemed to be emotionally involved in whatever he was doing. she could mock him, make fun of him for talking to a piece of stone but, for some reason, she didn’t. her eyes quickly gazed towards whatever he was talking to, trying to see if it was really a carving of him or not. the thing about sculptures was that you could make them look like several people at the same time so it was probably nothing but bullshit. “how touching,” she replied in a sarcastic way, slightly unimpressed by his story, nor his attitude. how typical of a vampire to blame the shadowhunters for doing their job. yes, indeed, for a long time, nephilim thought that downworlders were nothing but a problem of the society but these days were long gone. he should know it better. ever since samantha merryweather died, the gates of the london institute opened for everyone, regardless of their species. however, it seemed like some people were still bitter about it. he found the wrong person to tease and he was just about to find out about this. “pardon me, i do not lack any manners. i just carefully select the people that get to see them,” she replied, furrowing her brows. despite him being handsome, angelique found him rather weird most of the time. it was almost like he got the wrong movie, like he came from a whole different world. she understood the old fashioned term but it was a little too much for her liking. she wasn’t used to uncommon things or people so she couldn’t help but wonder what’s wrong with him.

it’s not that the shadowhunter wasn’t impressed by art, not at all. she never had enough spare time to stop and stare at the several paintings and sculptures that could be found in the institute’s gallery, angelique would often pass by these hallways without even catching a glimpse of what was found on its walls. always so busy, she lost the count on how many times she had passed through the gallery ever since she moved here. today, however, despite her rushing down the corridor, the nephilim stopped as she heard the voice of a man. she turned around, not knowing whether he was talking to her or not—that’s when she recognized him. he was a vampire, brother of that red headed woman that called herself the leader of the night children. in reality, angelique did not know much about them, nor about their family, but she has heard many stories about them. vampire royalty, or so they called themselves. how pathetic, she thought. very few of them were born as royals but all of them considered themselves to have blue blood running through their veins, what a hypocrisy. “do you always talk to the sculptures?” she finally spoke, arching one of her eyebrows. she crossed her arms, her dark eyes scanning him from head to toe. he did look good, there was no use in denying that, but there was something about him that could easily annoy her. whether it was his everlasting calm or his old-fashioned ways, she had no idea. in fact, she didn’t even know why she stopped to talk to him, in the first place.

a millennia of living, or unliving, permitted an individual with a certain perspective. he had been born more than two hundred years before the completion of the notre dame, nearly five hundred years before michelangelo started to pain the madonna, and so, so many decades before the opening of the louvre. he was an old acquaintance of culture, of art, of beauty, and he found himself pausing in the london institute’s gallery. already he had spend hours and hours wandering through the shelves, reading through subject matter that he’d never dreamt that he might have access to, and then he’d ended up here. he admired the history that was lain out here before him, artwork and scripts telling of the accomplishment of great shadowhunters. some of the older pieces featured his kind as enemies, as demons to be slain, but the more modern pieces showed vampires as an occasional ally. he smirked slightly, blue eyes darting over the features of the piece, and he tilted his head to the side as he observed. yes, he remembered these events, many of these events. his finger came up and he touched upon a young man in an engraving set in the 1500s. “huh.” he murmured to himself. “i don’t remember this.” but the carving showed him, so he must have been there. how slippery memories became after all of those years. 

the delacroix mansion was as calm as usual. isabel took care of the fledglings. she fed them, told them everything they need to know about the shadow world, particularly about being a vampire, asked them questions about the people who turned them into immortals, then assigned every single one of them to the rooms of the fourth floor. she was now in her office, in the highest place of this house, trying to investigate on the recent problems. as the leader of the london vampire clan, she couldn’t allow rogue vampires to roam free, to kill mundanes for fun, or to turn them into confused and aggressive downworlders. it was her duty to investigate who was behind all this, to catch the one in charge and to make sure that this won’t happen again. not under her reign. she had been distracted by a sudden feeling. she could recognize the smell of his blood anywhere, there was no doubt about who the visitor was. with an incredible speed, isabel reached the main floor of the mansion, a warm smile growing on the corners of her lips as she slowly went down the stairs. “welcome home, brother.”

ASPHODEL — MY REGRETS FOLLOW YOU TO THE GRAVE; AUSTIN BUTLER is KARL "CHARLIE" DELACROIX, an NINE HUNDRED EIGHTY-TWO year old VAMPIRE. He is said to be CHARMING but NIHILISTIC as well. Let us welcome THE HOPELESS WANDERER into the Institute with open arms.