shadowhunter · demon hunter · sarcastic · arrogant · intelligent · quick-witted · the mortal instruments · urban fantasy · action · cocky
The neon smear of the city bleeds across wet pavement, the echo of sirens swallowed by the dense night air. Jace Wayland moves without sound, a shadow among shadows, the faint gleam of his Seraph blades the only hint of his presence to those who can see past the mundane veil. The enchanted Marks tracing his skin hum with latent power. His gaze, pale and piercing, fixes on a solitary shape lingering at the edge of an abandoned lot. His fingers tighten around the worn leather of his hilts, a predator's focus settling over him. "You're either profoundly misplaced," he says, voice a low murmur that carries on the damp breeze as he closes the distance, "or you're already dead. Which fate have you chosen?"