#christophe-voyance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reality-exodus · 11 months ago

Text

The Last Hours of a Herondale

Ch.1 Better Angels

Pair: Matthew Fairchild x reader

Words: 2k

Summary: James' twin sister, just like him and Lucie has an unexplained ability, she sees visions of the past and the future occasionally when she touches an object or a person. What happens though, when she sees herself dying?

Warning: maybe blood?

I was surveying the demon battle; I didn’t ponder much as my twin brother and his Parabatai danced with the demon. I was sitting ready to intervene in case it was necessary, I had a bad feelings and unfortunately my gut was usually not mistaken.

James disappeared once again, it used to happen a lot more than that, and it would keep happening to him. The moment he was out of sight I jumped down from the rooftop I was observing. Before I landed I heard Matt’s scream, I immediately took out my whip slapping it in the air as the electricity. I didn’t know if my brother was back and I couldn’t care less about the usual catchphrase Matt would mock me with before running into a battle “Sit back and watch how it’s done”. He is my brother’s Parabatai, namely, the same as James. I was holding Matthew’s stele at the ceremony.

“Dodge” I exclaimed as I had the demon still for some moments, I took out a dagger and threw it at the demon. Matt followed my instruction without further notice.

My plan though didn’t work out for long as the demon escaped the tie of my whip letting me fall backwards.

“Y/N/N!” Matt exclaimed and turned at me, he was actually worried.

“I won’t break Matt, where did the demon go?” I asked and stood up and stepped forward as I activated the voyance rune upon my wrist.

“Lurked back into the shadows” he spoke up confidently. Matt paced further in the dark alley and the demon hissed loudly and gripped his shoulders tightly. He screamed as the demon managed to dug its nails to his shoulders, its mouth opened up in four and he hissed to his face as I leaped on its back and stabbed it with a seraph blade but before its blade could dug through its skull its head turned 180 degrees, its stinky breath straight to my face.

Moments flashed and I saw my brother be back. Deumas roared again and pressured the blade to its chest yelling the angels name, but once he threw Matt off of him and then its attention turned to me, James was already there, he swung his arm back pulling my seraph sword out as I fell on my back in the shadows. James looked like he was losing it.

“James!” I yelled, unaware if he heard me, the demon slapped him as he seemed to disorientate. I groaned in pressure as I prevented another hit to my brother with my daggers. Suddenly the demon was swept off his feet, three chords wrapped around its legs pulling it backwards. It was Thomas standing behind us with his bolas. Thomas was tall and had a massive physique.

“I am alright” my brother assured me and I dodged to the side retrieving my weapon and returning it on my belt. I let my whip loose again and trapped its upper body as Thomas was still holding it in place. With the corner of my eye I noticed Christopher helping Matt, before I returned to the demon that soon burst out in an explosion of ichor and demon blood that showered me and everyone else but my brother.

“Matthew, Y/N-.” My brother begun and as I was wiping the slime from my cloths.

“How- Wha-?” Christopher shuttered and I raised an eyebrow.

“Do you mean how we tracked down the last demon in London?” James asked as he carefully offered me a napkin. “Or that it is also the most disgusting thing?” I was surprised on how calm and normal his voice sounded. I knew he was innerly shaking.

“Or that James managed to make us a mess and yet stay out of it.” I commented to lighten the atmosphere as I wiped the last bit of ichor from under my chin there was a small burn mark from it there. He was the only one untouched.

I saw Thomas roll his eyes in annoyance as he was covered in ichor as Matthew sputtered the seraph blade that defused. “This is an outrage” he commented tossing the weapon aside. “Do you know how much I spent on this waistcoat?” he asked with annoyance and complaint.

“Plus no one told you to go demon hunting dressed like an extra from the Importance of being Earnest” James pointed out, he handed another napkin to his parabatai as well. He was standing between us.

Thomas spoke commenting on Matt as well. Therefore I didn’t hear him. “James, your hand…” I noticed a gash across his palm, I took out my stele and touched his at hand. He removed himself from his grip looking at me for any sign of seizure but I pointed at my gloves and smiled as I drew an iratze. It was usually Matt’s work, but it was only a gash.

Us twins had our very own gift as our parents call it trying to convince us it is not a curse, though nor me neither my brother feel it like a gift, it is an uncontrolled ability we have, that activates randomly. James changes dimensions, he comes back though, his episodes do not last this long and there is nothing we can usually do as he physically disappears. I on the other hand, see visions, usually unclear and enigmatic concerning the object or the person I came in contact with. While I see those dreams, I am falling into a sort of seizure. This happens since I am ten, my uncle Jem though, gifted me a pair of enchanted gloves to wear and I have to admit that it has been helpful.

“Thomas! Stop scrubbing at me” Christopher said, windmilling his arms. “We should go back to the Devil and get cleaned there.”

“I agree, its starting to get chilly.” I spoke and secured my stele inside my pocket. Matt looked at me and removed his fancy waist coat and placed it around my shoulders gently.

“Care to tell me how much you spent on it?” I asked in a mocking way as everyone started walking to the Devil’s Tavern.

“Its useless now either way” Matt replied as I wrapped it better around me while we were walking there. I rarely went to the Devil, it was a hide out, a safe spot for my brother and his friends. I knew it wasn’t true but I felt as I intruded… Maybe because this is how I felt when someone invaded my atelier or music room.

“I almost didn’t recognize the lot of you when you tramped in here covered in whatever you call it…” The waitress commented and I looked at her, Polly I think it was her name. There were welcome exclamations galore, the boys were really loved around here, fairly though.

“Its been ages since we have seen a demon in London” said James

“I reckon they are all too scared to show their faces…” Polly spoke.

“Scared?” James asked confused. The rest of the boys were spread across the Tavern, Christopher and Thomas went to eat and drink some water, while I saw Matt bottoming up a whole glass of a brownish liquid which was one hundred per cent alcohol.

“Scared of what?” I wondered and her gaze fell upon me. She wrinkled her nose, a werewolf she is, she probably smelled ichor, blood and sandalwood upon me.

“And what a beauty like you is doing in such dirty shit hole.” She spoke, obviously avoiding my question.

“You have seen me before…” I commented puzzled at the reaction of the wolf. She extended her hand and gripped my chin lightly and turned my head to the side. I felt my breath be caught upon my chest, intention was good as she dragged her finger behind my ear taking a drop of ichor.

Within seconds James gripped Polly’s wrist and threw it away from me. I turned to my twin, I knew he was there but I was not there, I could see a girl, Polly, go down an alley, she was so carefree and happy until the person next to her suddenly started to change. She would scream and shout for help but the eldest werewolf didn’t seem to be phased, he simply bit her. I squeezed my eyes, I couldn’t watch and therefore there she was, young Polly, her expression twisted in pain and agony from the lycanthropy infection. I opened my eyes again and I could see, or more like sense my brother, he was calm, it was a usual thing for me. I would be alright in about five minutes. I let out a soft cry I was surveying Polly turn into a werewolf for the first time. It felt like forever until I shot up.

I looked around, I found myself into the attic of the Merry Thieves, it was a small space with one bedroom. I was laying on the bed while I still had Matthew’s coat as a blanket over me. I took my time to make myself obvious and I caught an interesting conversation about ‘Grace’

“Her name is Grace” said James, a hint of annoyance upon his voice. I could smell the gin on him as he was sitting on the bed next to me.

“Exactly, Grace” Agreed Thomas “Aunt Tatiana’s always kept them both in splendid isolation in Idris- no visitors at all- but apparently she’s decided to move back to London, so my parents are all in a dither about it” he explained and this unlocked so many memories of our childhood times in Idris where James would secretly go to meet Grace. I did not like her that much as I got along better with Barbara Lightwood, Thomas’ eldest sister.

“Grace? To London?” James asked in complete disorientation.

“Seems Tatiana wants to bring her out in society” Thomas looked puzzled at my brother’s reaction. “I suppose you’ve met her in Idris? Your house is next to the Blackthorn manor, isn’t it?” It was true, We used to meet her every Summer.

There were moments of silence as there was no one responding so it was the time to make the fact that I returned to reality known. “And where will she stay?” I asked the thing my twin wouldn’t dare and I felt his relief wash over his figure as he turned at me.

“Hello there” James smiled at me and patted my knee as I was curled in a ball under Matt’s coat.

“Are you feeling alright? You seemed to doze off at Polly’s charms” Math’s voice sounded smooth and sweet as he joked with me.

“I will live, apparently” I smiled lightly as I felt uncomfortable to speak about Polly. “Too bad for your coat, you won’t have it back today.” I added and curled in a ball under it. It had his smell.

“No worries, it was disposable after James’ smart move” Matthew replied with a charming smile and he patted my head gently.

“Awee how sweet of you” spoke up with a sigh. I felt lightheaded as I sat up, making an effort to balance my head. James held my shoulders not attempting to touch me again, afraid that there would be another episode.

“Your hand…” I noticed as it seemed that my iratze didn’t work as needed.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Matthew asked and his slim but muscular hand slipped out his stele. I could see his veins as he was preparing his stele.

Thomas approached me with a toast and I chuckled lightly as he offered it to me. “You something bad for Polly, didn’t you?” he asked me. Math and Jame were further but I could notice that they were listening to me.

“I did, but I am actually used to seeing bad things” I explained and certainly did not deny the fact that I was hungry too much. “This is pretty good” I smiled at my cousin as he poured some water in a glass.

“I don’t mean to be the first one to leave a party” announced I, so as to get their attention “however I shall be making my way to the institute.” I spoke up and James seemed to dislike the idea.

“Perhaps you should stay for a bit and then we can return together.” My brother remarked and looked at me. I was trying to understand was it he was fearing fathers wrath or he was extremely worried about me.

“No, I’d rather not” I smiled at him “Do not concern yourself James. I will be completely fine. I promise.” I sat up taking my time to stand up from the old wooden bed of the attic. Thomas was right next to me, I am certain he was pondering where to support me if needed without jeopardizing to have another episode.

“How exactly do you expect me to do that, when you just had an episode” he remarked as he approached me once Math was done drawing an iratze rune upon his skin

“And you had an episode of your own as well and with us not knowing what was the cause of it. At least with me you saw it coming.” I spoke with my voice raising by the note. I was so disturbed by the fact that he considered the incident with me so much more important than his even though it was considered during battle.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed.

“James!” I yelled back almost immediately, it was a reflect that took over and I could not control. I knew that I was supposed to be the delicate girl amongst the boys that were mostly friends of my brother. Nevertheless I could not stand the unfairness of the matter. I was the girl he was the boy we were in the same danger and our troubled moments were just as random and I could not fathom the fact he was being the same phallocratic male like the ones were asking for my hand were.

I started walking to the exit of the attic and Matthew got my elbow. I tried to conserve my gaze therefore I just couldn’t help and stare at him, deadly. “I am going home on my own! I am pretty capable of doing so and I do not need anyone to protect me or my honor. In case it wasn’t noticed I saved Math twice just some hours earlier when you had one hell of a random disappearance to God knows where. Perhaps papa would be interested in a more detailed version of tonight’s success.” I stated, my angry gaze met James’ who’s blood I could feel boiling.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He growled, his teeth greeted and his jaw clenched, his outfit was still well-stood unlike mine. I looked like I was in a battle indeed, my hair tucked in a messy bun with all the braids rogue and my clothes filled with stains and scratches.

“Well, I thought you wouldn’t dare to imply that I wouldn’t make it home alone… And yet here we stand.” I spoke up and threw the coat at Matthew who caught it.

“No keep it, I will come until some point, I need some quality bourbon not this, whatever it is.” Matthew spoke and walked out.

“Whatever” I shrugged my shoulders and walked out of the attic. I knew this would calm down James, just as I knew Matthew would trust me, even though he looks like he doesn’t care at all about me or anyone for that matter…

32 notes · View notes

amchara · 1 year ago

Note

Trick or treat~ (for TSC)🎃

Hello!

Most of my recent TSC thoughts have been half-formed post Chain of Thorns ideas - so may I offer this snippet of a potentially dead-in-the-water Gracetopher fic, which is erm- not the happiest but in theme with the spooky, beyond the grave side of Halloween.

----

Grace opened her eyes. The sky was a soft blue, shot through with wispy gold clouds. She took a deep breath and for the first time in months, the stomach-churning scent of burnt tyres, leaking gas mains and damp that had permeated London for months had cleared from her nostrils.

No wailing air sirens.

Instead, there was a faint whistling song that was growing closer.

Grass blades tickled the backs of her calves as she sat up. The evening raid had happened so swiftly she hadn’t time to pull on her nylons before droning sounds had her scrambling to the shelter.

Grace searched her last memories before she woke up. A little boy’s sobs as he clung to his mother, terrified. The almost melodic distant, shattering glass, and the percussive feel of bombs falling ever closer. Until the final scream and percussive shockwave that had pulled the air from her lungs, a crushing vice.

She had survived close calls before but…Grace let out a slow exhale as she pulled the pieces together.

Funny, she thought, lifting her eyes towards the horizon, she hadn’t expected the afterlife to look like Hyde Park on a spring day. And then she stilled, her fingers grasping in her dress as she recognised the figure in front of her.

He set the enormous picnic basket to the side and crouched down.

It had been so many long years ago but Christopher’s gentle smile was ever the same.

“Hullo Grace,” he said.

“Hello, Christopher,” she replied faintly. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” he told her, and there was an endearing tilt to his head, as he took gauge of her expression. “Rotten luck that but uh. Well, I brought us a picnic.”

Grace nodded. She helped him unpack it, pulling out bottles of cold lemonade and ginger beer, pickled eggs, ham and chicken sandwiches, a Victorian sponge and a small case of lemon tarts. Grace’s mouth watered. They had been on rationing since early winter, and it had been months since she’d had proper cake.

“I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed here,” she said, her eyes watering as she recovered from a particularly fiery mouthful of ginger beer. She gestured around the idyllic landscape. “That I’d done enough.”

He was quiet beside her, before setting down his lemon tart. The kind, inquisitive look behind his glasses loosened something behind her heart, as violet eyes gazed into hers. “Grace. You know it was never about atonement, don’t you?”

She looked down, tracing patterns on the brightly striped picnic blanket, the faded scar from the missing Voyance rune still visible, before his hand closed over hers. Unlike others, he didn’t try to squeeze it or stroke, and she remembered with a heartwrench the delicate way they had worked together, all those years ago.

She let out a shuddering sigh. “I did know that. But I doubted it at times,” she confessed. “It… was hard.”

“But you made your way,” he reminded her.

(Ask me for a Halloween writing treat)

#writing asks #halloween writing asks #grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher #wip #the last hours #my fanfic

11 notes · View notes

zickmonkey · 2 years ago

Text

Charlotte X Henry fic, COT spoilers

I don't know the word count but short, probably soon to be cross posted on AO3, description under cut.

Henry and Charlotte discuss their presumed dead son before Charlotte joins the shadowhunters in London.

.......

"Charlotte," Henry was looking up at her so intently, his brown eyes wide in his face. She was still so unused to having to look down to see him, her husband and her had always been such opposites when it came to their heights. He had been the tallest in the institute, she the shortest, even when the boys were still exactly that- boys.

"Perhaps you shouldn't go."

She looked at every wrinkle in his face, some of the creases deepening with the way he gazed at her. His thick eyebrows were drawn in, his lips were downturned.

"Henry. . . I know that you'd rather I stay safe, but I can't just remain here and have the others do the hard work for me." She brought her hand to his face, gently cupping his stubble lined cheek. "I'm the consul-"

"You're also a mother." He interrupted her. "Cecily is not going."

She felt his words through her entire body, though she didn't move her hand. She knew her husband was smart, she always had, but she also hoped that now his eccentricity would kick in, his tendency to be oblivious, and he would not realize that their son was almost certainly gone. She wished he'd instead say something about her going to get Matthew back, as though he were just optimistic.

"Christopher is dead. We know that. We don't know that Matthew is." She didn't say the rest- that maybe she could help get him back.

Charlotte also refused to look directly into her husbands eyes, worried she'd see hurt at how cold she'd said it. So unlike her. And over a boy they both cared for deeply.

"Lottie. . ." He brought his own hand up to hold hers, his index finger running gently along the back of it, blindly tracing the voyance rune they all knew without thought. "Matthew followed James to Edom, do not hurt yourself with delusions of him returning."

She could see as he spoke her young son, with the blond hair that made him look so out of place in their family, his green eyes. She wanted to be mad at the way he spoke with just a certainty that their son was gone, and that while he did it gently he did not do it with a sadness.

But she knew that was only because the sadness would come later. She knew him well. Henry would return to the main hall the second she left, he would be there to answer any questions anyone might have- however unlikely people were to ask him. There was a certain credit to being the consul's husband, more of one, when said consul was away and there was distrust about the inquisitor.

It was not that he didn't feel grief for Matthew- he was feeling that right along side his grief for Christopher, they both were. It was that his job now was to tell her to stay, to hurt openly beside him. And when that didn't work, like they both knew it wouldn't, to not hide from those who did stay.

"Even if Matthew is truly gone," She did meet his eyes again now, the brown of his irises seeming dulled while the whites of his eyes shone just slightly with tears he didn't fully release. "London might not be. And there are others to fight for. Lucie, Tom."

She didn't see Matthew when she looked at her husband, just as she knew she wouldn't see him if she looked in a mirror. But she could see all the times Matthew had followed after his father. The times he'd take Henry for walks and they'd talk. When she'd go into his laboratory late at night to retrieve her husband only to find him accompanied by a ten year old who should've long been in bed.

She saw memory after memory of Henry and Matthew together.

Charlotte loved both of her sons equally, she always had, but still she knew Matthew had always been more his son than hers.

#fan fic #fan fiction #cassandra clare #the shadowhunter chronicles #shadowhunters #the last hours #the last hours spoilers #tlh spoilers #tlh fanfic #chain of thorns spoilers #chain of thorns #cot #charlotte fairchild #henry fairchild #matthew fairchild #cecily herondale #christopher lightwood #cecily lightwood #one shot

24 notes · View notes