#epiphonoi

“So bad?” A roll of eyes his own countered hers almost in unison, except if he could score grades for dramatics, he’d have her long since beaten with utter ease, “See, ‘less than ideal’ or ‘bad’ would be running out of weapons halfway through a mission— but then again, that would only happen to the shadowhunter equivalent of one Simon Lewis.” The corridor’s wall to his side served as his repose, glance aimed sternly, though temporarily, on the door before Maryse, “’So bad’ would be having to spend even five minutes with Magnus in any capacity. And horrible is definitely the sight of Isabelle’s hair in the morning.” A brief shudder encompassed an upper torso, settling into his repose rather comfortably by that time.

       the institute is OPULENT, as prisons go. and raphael knows that the current residents hardly mean it that way, but their earnest makes the wound sting more. and yet, where else should A HOMELESS ANGEL go ?

       she’s standing, observing one of the grand stained glass depictions. angels and demons. the war in heaven. MOTIFS the shadowhunters seem to cling to. but for raphael, it’s her history. she’s lived it. she doesn’t even look over as maryse approaches. she doesn’t have to. she may be TRAPPED in human form, but she’s still an angel, and an archangel at that. ❝ is that truly how you see yourselves ? like MICHAEL fighting against lucifer ? just in hunting down demons and driving them back into hell ? ❞

       ❝ don’t worry, i’ll make sure they do you justice. ❞ jocelyn smiles softly, going to her bookcase and pulling out one of many, MANY sketchpads. she flips open to a page where she’s depicted many of her friends from idris: celine surrounded by flowers, michael and robert arm in arm, amatis and stephen from their happier days, and MARYSE, prominent and in the center, with her broadsword, that look she always got when she felt a fight coming on captured on her face.

       ❝ how about SOMETHING LIKE THAT ? would that work ? ❞

If you want to do a thing, do it because it is your desire, not my allowance. you must risk rejection, had been the words she’d spoken and the ones he’d honed and risked, had they not? A kiss of farewell to such lips ever youthful, and the memory of them and him ever as intoxicating as the flower held within a delicate grasp, “It would be a great injustice to call you a man, or rather, a gentleman of but a few tricks, Mr Gray.” A moment of hesitance cicled her throughout her own words, glance settling more decidedly upon the atropa belladonna that stood presented as a memory and an offer, a represention of either the continuance of their divide or the crumbling of it.

   “ so,   hey,   i’ve been  meaning to ask  you   --   “    dave’s  head  quirks  upward  slightly  from  where  he’s  leaning  over  to  tie  his  boots,     curiosity  written across his  face.    they’d  been   friends  for a  couple weeks now,  learning more and  more  about  each  other   ,    yet there was one thing that was  still  bothering  him  in the  back  of  his  mind  that he couldn’t wait to get out of his  chest.       nodding his head  in its direction,    dave asks:    “ what’s in the  briefcase?   doesn’t seem  like  there’s  much to do with one out here, “    he chuckled.