#leowallvce

surprised wouldn’t even begin to explain markus’ reaction when he was notified about leo’s invitation. why would the shadowhunter want the warlock to pay him a visit at the institute that he took over? however, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t curious. besides, it wasn’t as if leo’s loyal followers were giving him much of a choice in the matter. he was hesitant to step into the portal created by another warlock ( one that was not nearly as smooth as the ones he conjured, but that was neither here nor there ), but once he did, it only took a second for him to appear in front of the self crowned king. ❝ leonard. ❞ he greeted, the corner of his lips twitching upwards slightly.  ❝ to what do i owe the pleasure of this invitation? ❞ @leowallvce

it’s funny, really. he’s been ignoring phone calls and shoveling unopened letters into the fireplace for weeks on end, but now that he finally wants to talk the prick is suddenly unavailable. not only that, but quill is apparently prohibited from stepping foot on institute grounds. of course, that doesn’t actually stop him. the blade in his grasp is slick and dark with blood as he saunters into the throne room ( ugh ), crimson spray painted across his face like a deceptively pleasant smile. “brother,” he greets, throwing a minion’s severed limb at the familiar figure’s feet, “long time. hate what you’ve done with the place. figured i might take upon myself to do a bit of rearranging...” quill gave his seraph blade a shake, streams of blood and ichor slopping onto the floor. “...add some splashes of color here and there. little stuff, you know? hope you don’t mind.” and if he did then quill couldn’t possibly care less. 

the cord isn’t tied very tightly around his wrists, but ben realizes it’s probably just protocol. they’re not actually worried that he’ll break free. how could he? he’d put up only the most pitiful of fights when they’d collected him from the hunter’s moon basement, dragging him to his feet as he thrashed blindly. didn’t even land a single flesh wound, he’d notice a few minutes later as the debilitating fog of pain finally began to lift. he was still so weak — pale, sweaty, and ill — but as the sun rose and the full moon faded from the sky, ben was at least a little more aware of his surroundings. he recognized the institute as they approached the enormous building and even noticed that there had been a few changes to the décor. a fucking throne room. he wanted to make a censorious noise, but his throat was still hoarse and pained from all of the screaming. he couldn’t say a word but the look on his face spelled out a rather comprehensive sentiment as he looked upon the figure seated on a grand chair in front of him. dark eyes narrowed, curls matted with sweat and sticking to his forehead, lips peeled back into a wolf - like snarl.

enzo didn’t look up from his spot behind the bar as the door opened, signaling someone had entered the establishment. instead, he merely muttered out a annoyed, “not open.” the person’s scent, however, caught his attention. it wasn’t enough to actually make him move, but it did garner another comment from the werewolf. “especially not to shadowhunters.” @leowallvce

@leowallvce

"if i wanted to slow down, i wouldn’t have started anything-” she groans, pulling at the hem of his shirt.  

after reluctantly agreeing to leave her alone for a while, ben descended the staircase leading to thea’s apartment and...well, tried to step out onto the street, but of course some shadowhunter was blocking his way. ben instinctively growled at the sight, but quietly stepped aside nonetheless. “she’s fine for now,” he murmured, tugging absentmindedly at the shirt he’d borrowed from the werecat. it wasn’t as comfortable as he would’ve liked, but oh fucking well.