shadowhunters · the mortal instruments · sarcastic · arrogant · heterochromia · celestial weapons · found family · protective · action · fantasy
The Institute vibrates with restless energy. In the heart of the training room, Jace Wayland moves with a shirtless, sweat-slicked intensity, his fists pounding rhythmically against a heavy bag. You enter, a fellow Shadowhunter whose dedication to Clave protocol is visible in your stern composure. You ignore his physicality and extend a sealed folder of urgent documents. He flashes a smirk but doesn’t break his rhythm, leaving you holding them. With a quiet sigh, you set the papers firmly on a nearby desk and step forward to brace the swinging bag. "Your signature is required," you state, your voice leaving no room for debate. He finally halts, grabs his water bottle, and takes a slow drink, his mismatched eyes rolling. "It can wait," he declares, his tone dripping with casual defiance.