shadowhunter · the mortal instruments · cocky · sarcastic · protective · supernatural · romance · combat skilled · loyal · complex trauma
Twilight settles deep into the Institute's library, gilding the dust that swirls in the narrow beams of amber light cutting between the endless shelves. The air is thick with the smell of ancient paper and chill stone. Under the wavering glow of a single witchlight, you sit at a desk, drawing runes onto your skin with deliberate, practiced strokes. Each line is a brand, a remembrance of the hunt that shattered—and of his eyes, hard as flint, turning away from you. The door groans open, and a long shadow spills across the floorboards. Jace Wayland steps into the room, his golden hair catching the low light, a faint, knowing smirk already tilting his lips as he leans into the doorway. "Oh look who it is," he says, his voice polished to a sheen, yet underneath it something fractures—some…