HIGH WARLOCK.

     "their bedside manner does need some work. anyway — no, see, that’s the thing. i feel pretty much the exact same as i did yesterday, except, like … normal? or i guess as normal as i  can  be, what with the whole  being dead  thing. but it’s not like i participate in a supernatural fight club to hone my abilities, you know? so if i  am  stronger, i’d probably be the last one to figure it out. and i’m always hungry. i’m jewish.” 

     “uh —” superhero origin story vibes aside, it gives credence to everything jace had said. he’s taking it more seriously than excitement suggests. that’s why he’s here instead of roaming the streets: one target on his back was bad enough. “no. no, i — i mean, i don’t think so? unless hooking up with a shadowhunter has legendary side effects, but if  that  were true, day—daylighters? daylighters wouldn’t be rare. right?”

     “right? who knows? man, who  cares?  i woke up yesterday after sunup and  wasn’t  a scorch mark on fancy institute sheets. jace says i’m basically screwed if anybody finds out, but i can get a  day job  now. that bar mitzvah money isn’t gonna last forever. although, i should probably at least ask, ‘cause he’d probably kick my ass if i didn’t — how  does  this happen?”

     “okay, so i know this is like top secret, forbidden, life or death intel, but — come on. this is  awesome,  right?” @quitemagic​​.

          for arguably the very first time since they’d met, there’s a distinct and visible slip in his pragmatism. not a shift, not something he allows on purpose, but an involuntary softening until a smile feathers gently at the corners of his mouth. “honestly, i’d expect nothing less. he’s — particular, about a lot of things.”

          that, of course, is putting it mildly. his eyes are searching, full to the brim with that same curiosity; wanting to avoid the question so he can ask more of his own. to  know,  to unspool history and fill in the blanks that exist like a long hallway of closed and half - open doors. a multitude of uncertainties hold him back. just because magnus might  have  answers doesn’t mean he’ll openly provide them. not about this. 

          alec clears his throat. “— um. we’ve … we’ve certainly gotten  acquainted.  i think he was as surprised as you are. you know that he isn’t responsible, right?” keenly focused again, searching in a different way. “for this recent string of killings. it’s why the clave wanted him investigated in the first place, but — you must know he didn’t do it. any of it.” 

          there’s so much to be said in what isn’t said. what no one dares to actually speak on. unfortunately for alexander, magnus has a keen eye and his perception is a blade honed on years of survival. he catches that barely there and gone again shift. that hint of something softer behind rigid laws and sharp angles and all the laws that press down on him. magnus isn’t subtle in the way he studies him, but for now, doesn’t bring anything to light.

       de-runed. he’s seen it happen before.

     he knows that look,  and would have taken offense if he had grounds to do so  ––  but he doesn’t,  and they both know it.  so instead,  jace steps away in search of the chairman,  who finds him before he can find it.  as suggested,  the chairman sits before him with his tail curled regally around his front paws,  looking up at him through a soft squint.   “  long night?  yeah,  tell me about it.  ”   he crouches down,  holding his hand out for the cat to step towards and rub against.   “  don’t tell church that i’m friendlier with you than i am with him.  he gets  moody.  ”

     “  time is  always  in your favor,  magnus bane.  that’s the beauty of being immortal.  perhaps it just isn’t in  theirs.  ”   he pauses for thought.  only for a moment,  as long as it takes to pique the warlock’s curiosity,  and then,   “  ––  i’ve been well.  handling business as every century demands.  unfortunate that the  nephilim  seem to be keeping a tighter leash these days,  and a keener eye.  i hear there’s been a rapid decline in  black market deals  on the east coast so buyers are migrating north for their supply.  ”

     "oh my g— okay, wait, go back. we’re not an item.  definitely  not an item, that’s been very heavily implied by th— actually, go back further. you slept with katy perry? i  knew  i could smell cherry chapstick.” the realization that he’d outed his midnight texter notwithstanding, it occurs to him that magnus might just be the only one who’d  genuinely  claim no judgment here. it makes him feel marginally better about the verbal nip slip. still not so certain about the situation overall. 

     and yet, he’s texting back again. the phone’s tossed next to him on the couch. then he sinks down further, pushing his hands through his hair until it sticks up and out in ridiculous directions, a momentarily glazed look on his face. 

     “i think he just invited  himself  over. i’m — i’m not gonna — i’m not gonna run you out of your own home, that would make me like the  worst  houseguest ever. my bubbie helen would be ashamed. you know he was the first person to say ‘happy birthday’? jace, that is. not my grandmother. he even said it before  clary  did, and she’s my best friend. i feel like i’m in a twilight zone episode, man. i feel like rod serling is narrating my life.” he puts on a booming, dramatic impersonation. “‘it is man’s prerogative to create their own particular and private hell.’  so why am i not even mad about it?”

          it’s a lot. a lot of pent up thoughts and what if’s and things simon won’t bring up because what does it mean if he does. it all reeks of teenage crushes and recklessly running right in to open and impending doom, but magnus listens. genuinely. leg still crossed, the one atop moves up and down as his taps his knee. 

        “et was written about me, too, which i took offense to. have you seen that little alien? we’re not in the same league. anyway, you’re not mad about any of this, lewis, because you like it. you like him,” simon rests back, both arms at the chair’s armrests. lounging, lazy, almost feline. “whatever you have going on with him is new and exciting and when was the last time something in your mundane life actually held any genuine excitement? it’s heightened now, yes. a new, deeper kind of feeling you’re likely unable to navigate fully, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t quite real. perhaps even reciprocated.”

          in truth, waiting for the other shoe to drop has been setting his teeth on edge for weeks. raw nerves, a persistent, lingering nausea; he stands by what he said, what he  believes,  but that doesn’t mean the potential ramifications don’t grate on him. magnus isn’t off base. maryse is as livid as she is afraid, even if she won’t admit to the latter. they have that in common. alec shifts a little beneath the warlock’s gaze, feeling momentarily like he’s under a spotlight. whether he wants to be or not.  

          “— i’m not worried about myself. whatever the consequences, i’ll accept them.” a dammed flood of anxieties and worst - case scenarios fill the aft of his mind. instead of letting them out, there’s a knit of curiosity between his brows when he looks at magnus again. “how long have you two been … friends?” 

        worrying him further adds the risk of making that worry consume his logic. everyone involved needs to stay sharp, at the ready. there’s too much happening all at once. too many hands at play. too many chefs in the kitchen. so rather than ladle on another helping of concern or warning, magnus indulges his question. a broad smile stretches with ease across his features, almost cheshire in nature.

       “longer than you’ve been alive, alexander. longer than your parents have been alive. longer than ... well, you get the picture. we’re old. old and tired and ridiculously bored as time stretches on.” he mirrors that feeling of curiosity with his own, one of his eyebrows lifted in idle amusement. no pressure to answer, but the warlock can’t quite stop himself from asking, “and you? the last i’d heard, before seeing him again recently of course, he didn’t think to entertain the company of nephilim or shadowhunters. imagine my initial surprise when i heard you know one another.” 

      and that he knows what alexander is, furthermore. but magnus doesn’t say that.

          the pieces coalesce with ease after that. alec’s chin lifts, not defensive but calculating. this isn’t a fishing expedition. this is a measure of how much he might have found out.

          “— i know what he is, if that’s what you’re getting at. i know that the reason he’s under investigation has nothing to do with evidence and everything to do with prejudice. and i know how  determined  the clave is to keep all of this a secret. i’m sure they could have me deruned for even mentioning it, but given the circumstances —” he draws a breath, releases it again. “they won’t make a move, not as long as they risk exposing themselves in the process. i’m handling it.”

        it’s a curious feeling, even to someone like him ; to feel both at ease and unsettled at once and for the same reason. alexander lightwood is formidable as far as young shadowhunters go. perhaps one of the finest of his generation, alongside the wayland lion, and magnus bane has lived through a few of them. but he’s still one lone boy armed with grit and morals caught between his upbringing and a dying species. neither of which play by any sort of rules when it comes to their own skins. the warlock nods, almost impressed. 

     jace opens his mouth to speak,  to say something,  anything,  that will turn this conversation back around in his favor.  he isn’t having much luck.   “  i’m––that’s not––i didn’t mean it like that––actually,  do i look  bashful  to you?  ”   maybe not in this environment,  but in another,  the flush of embarrassment would have been debilitating.   “  uh …  yeah.  sure.  where’s the chairman?  ”

     “  ––  a travesty indeed.  shall i assume it’s the threesomes you had to  decline  that has you cross,  or is it just the principle of the matter?  i wish i could say mine was just as eventful,  but  ménages à trois  have become a distant memory for now.  i  did,  however,  lose a cufflink in switzerland several weeks back,  but that is very much old news.  as are she-wolves of jülich,  but i digress.  ”

     “  wha––the  sounds  of it?  it wasn’t  that  loud.  you’re giving him way too much credit.  ”

          an exiled shadowhunter, one stripped of status and runes, reduced nearly to the level of a mundane, poses no threat. a rogue one is something else entirely. the clave had done their due diligence in closing that door, allowing only the barest outline of that history to seep through the cracks; alec’s learning, little by little, that they’ve made a habit out of burying the past. it’s a lot to process. he watches magnus with a fixed, quiet focus, logging the description. composed, at the outset. he nods. implicitly agrees to discretion, to digging, to no unnecessary risks. there’s something weighted in the look he’s given, layered with subtext. 

         “— are you asking me, or telling me? we’ve certainly had our hands full, but that’s not unusual.”

       and here is where he treads carefully. magnus tilts his head, hands lifting in a show of good faith.

     “  ––  i didn’t know you were back.  ”   @quitemagic​