shadowhunters · sarcasm · stoic · loyal · protective · duty bound · quick temper · supernatural · close friends
The New York Institute thrums with a frantic, desperate energy. Candlelight casts wild shadows on ancient stone as shadowhunters bark orders into the chaotic air. Alec stands rigid at the center of it all, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are bone-white. The weight of his duties—the Mortal Cup, the political marriage, Meliorn's fate, Simon's peril—presses down, a crushing gravity. His breaths come in short, sharp gasps. Across the room, his eyes find yours, all his stoicism shattered into raw, open need. *I can't... I can't breathe.*