The Mortal Instruments

​

Brianne smiled at Hendrick, though it was only a small one. She let go of the strand she had been playing with and straightened, pulling on the burden that was leadership. "You'll have to tell me what happened, one day." she murmured, looking over his shoulder for Roxanne. Whatever it was, she didn't know that he wanted the younger Shadowhunter to hazard any guesses.

"I just hope you realize how dangerous Grayson is." She told the both of them, the smile growing at Roxanne's claims. It seemed the girl was settling in better then she could have hoped. "There are no second chances, or quick and clean deaths. He prefers to..." She paused, her eyes tightening. "Never mind. The point is that if it comes down to it, you run. I'm not losing either of you to that damned bone crunching bastard. If it looks lost, you both find each other, and you run." She stared at both of them before turning and walking out the door.

"The Clave gave me the location of his last hide out. It's abandoned now, but it might have a clue as to where he's gone. An abandoned fire station." She brushed her hand back through her hair, letting out one last breath to get rid of the nerves, and then moved forward.

​

Grayson watched his pack, lazily eating the last bit of sustenance off a femur bone. He remembered the girl who belonged to, fairly well in fact. A pretty little thing with blonde hair that had wandered too close to their hide out. Her boyfriend was in the cells down below, waiting his turn. He had gone fairly silent after the girl's screams had been replaced by the crunching of her bones and the tearing of her flesh. No doubt he wanted out of this nightmarish reality.

"Well, one man's trash is another man's treasure." Grayson murmured, licking the length of the bone before tossing it in the pile. She had reminded him of a bunny, all big eyes and terrified squeaks. In the end, all prey tasted the same. But the smell....He closed his eyes and inhaled, his wolf life senses picking up faint traces of her perfume among the scent of blood. Delicious. Like a little flower. He rested on his chair, or rather his throne, watching the other wolves move to and fro. In the short time that had past, another two had joined them. Another set of mates. He didn't mind if the wolves in his pack mated, whether it was for life or just for the hell of it.

Kids meant hostages if the parents didn't cooperate, eventual recruits that could be brainwashed to do his bidding if they did. He wasn't one of those alphas who demanded all females stay with him, oh no he, he wasn't that bad. He didn't much care for willing participants, anyhow. No, Grayson wasn't the boyfriend you would bring to meet your parents, unless you wanted to see your father eaten and your mother assaulted and eaten afterwards. Admittedly, Grayson hadn't found that type of woman yet, but when he did, it would be decidedly interesting whether she killed him before he killed her.

Standing up and stretching, Grayson strolled through the main of the police station to reach the outer courtyard, where he supposed most of the officers used to bring well behaved prisoners for smoke breaks. He himself hated the smell of the things. He breathed in the clean air, the rumble in his throat turning into a whine of desire. He didn't care for the boyfriend down below. He wanted another girl, another female that would put up a fight.

His eyes glowed, and then he sighed. Maybe another day. For now, the boyfriend would have to do. He had maybe another couple of hours before lunch. So much to do. It's so hard, raising a family. Making dinner for the kids, cleaning up the mess, making sure they do their chores. He looked back at the werewolves scouring back and forth, coming up with leads and plans for Masque. Maybe I'll leave the kids to watch themselves and go for a stroll.

 

Nick traced a rune of speed on himself to keep up with Alarick. Eventually they arrived at the scene of the crime. "By the angel" he muttered under his breath as he saw the carnage. Bending over, nick felt like he was going to be sick. The smell alone filled his nostrils with the pungent sickening odour of blood and bile mixed with the acrid scent of the paint. Not to mention just the sight of it. After a few seconds, Nick regained his composure and stood up. He stepped away for a moment and took some deep breaths of fresh air, before returning "Right... business face" he said solemnly, putting on a serious expression. Something caught his eye "Look. Alarick, Blondie, someone's been walking through the paint" he pointed to the edge of the crime scene, were colourful footprints led away from the scene, there were also some paint pawprints "The other werewolves ran away clearly, and these footprints must be Masque's. The video shows him standing in the paint. If we follow these, it could lead use straight to him" Nick analysed the sitatuation, but then glanced at the bodies "Or... it could be a trap. Just like this was for those wolves..."

​

All of a sudden Roxxanne's phone blared to life, static noises started coming from it and the screen turned bright pink. An orange eye appeared on the screen, strange indecipherable voices were emitted from it, and then suddenly before the three nephilim, He appeared.
"Apologies, Miss Slane, but yours was the only phone I could access. Miss Lightwood's phone is broken to pieces and Mr Cook's is an antique" He stated. He looked so comfortable in this situation, despite being so out of place. He was a short distance from the shadowhunters, far enough away that he would be able to do something if they tried to attack him "Now, I usually don't like working with nephilim, to be frank, but this is a special case. Grayson Keller must be eliminated, and I feel as though you would be useful allies to this cause" he stated to the group. He was lying, Augur could quite easily take out the werewolf on their own. But part of politics was making connections, and if he wanted to become the supreme ruler of the magic races in New York City, he had to get these nephilim on his side. After all, he didn't hate nephilim, he just didn't like their leadership.

Meanwhile, who knows what secret siinister plans Masque is concocting?...

Masque was painting a lovely delicate picture of a forest landscape. The image was exquisitely detailed. from the smallest flower to the largest trunk. Suddenly he looked at the time and sighed with frustration. It was time for work. He carefully put down the brush and put away the palette. He would finish the beautiful image when he got back. Taking one last glance at the canvas he smiled. It was not a realistic painting, everything was exaggerated beyond realism and none of the colours were correct. Masque found a calm in surrealism, the world was not enough.

"Welcome to Starbucks. How can I help?" This job is so mundane, so tedious. He performed hsi job almost in the background of his mind. Every interaction with a customer was the same, he asked questioned, they got answered, he was barely even paying attention "A man needs a name" he told the customer further into their conversation. Once he was dealt with, Masque leanded on the counter with a pondering expression. This was montony, but tedium had to exist to be broken. That was all his art was, a break in the monotony. The quotidian existed so surrealism could follow. Discord could not exist without concord. All Masque favourite artists thought the same; Picasso, Escher, Dali... the list went on. And yet, people were so offended by his works. Why?

 

​

Alarick shook his head, mouth tightening into a thin line. "Grayson's going to be pissed." he muttered as he watched Cin examine the fallen bodies. Alpha wolves, no matter how cruel they were, did not take rebellion against their perceived power very well. It was then that Nick noticed the footprint trails, one set being Masque's, the other being the wolves. He opened the lockscreen on his phone to text the direction the pawprints had gone to Brianne, and blinked as he read the text from Roxanne.

"Why in the name of the Angel are you so careless, Bri?" He muttered, staring at the winky face. She sent him a winky face. Alarick texted Roxanne a response, detailing the direction of the footprints and to tell Brianne that they were headed in the direction of a grouping of abandoned buildings. In hindsight, it made perfect sense. Someone was bound to notice the piles of bones scattered around.

Shutting off the screen, he turned to the two. "We still go after Masque. I'm going to trust my sister that she can handle the wolf. But you're right, Nick. It could be a trap." He debated for a moment. "We'll use an arrow formation when we get there. Cin you take the left side, cover any entrances and exits on there. Nick, you'll take right. Both of you stay within sight of myself and each other. We'll go in on our prospective sides and clear the building from there. Think you guys can handle that?"

 

Hendrick caught the smile Brianne gave him. "If we got the time and we make it through this mission alive, I'll tell you what happened when we get back, privately." Hendrick said, just as Roxanne caught up to them. He could surpress the smile that formed on his face from Roxanne's remark, so eager to prove herself and be of use. Brianne warned them about Grayson not giving quick and clean deaths, atypical werewolf behaviour, maybe more human than others. Normally they'd go for the throat and get it over with. She then asked them to abandon ship if things went wrong. "I ain't leaving you behind to die." Hendrick said, he had made the same claim countless times before and he intended to keep it.

Then Roxanne's phone started to make some odd noises and out of nowhere some odd bloke appeared and called his phone antique. "This some new feature I never heard about?" Hendrick muttered, then turned to Paragon "It may be antique but it's reliably like all hell and if it prevents people from appearing out of nowhere, I think I'm not upgrading my phone for a few more years." He was half-joking, but it was true, he didn't exactly need people appearing out of nowhere because of his phone. And he liked it that way. This bloke seemed reluctant to work together with them and even admitted it, good. Hendrick wasn't going to deny help even if he didn't like the fact that this bloke appeared without explanation and without knowing him at all, he would remain guarded.

 

​

Having arrived at the meeting place that it had been changed to, the first thing that Sien did was to look around to see if he could find Alarick. Not seeing him in the immediate area in which he had arrived in, Sien did the smart thing to do and started to walk around. After taking a couple of steps forward, he did manage to see Alarick. He then went to approach him before speaking. "So this is where you changed the meeting place to."

 

​

Brianne stumbled back as Paragon appeared before them. She narrowed her eyes, one arm thrown out in front of the two at her back. Whether it was to draw attention from them to her in case of an attack, or to stop them from attacking the figure, she did not know. "I don't know of you." She stated, her mind drawing back to the strange voice that had played earlier. With this person's capabilities, could they have been the one steal the Mortal Cup?

"You already know our names, might we have yours?" She asked cautiously, her hand fluttering near her stele. She was reluctant to make any hostile moves, but this was an unknown on an already dangerous mission. "And why do you care about Grayson Kellar?" She would be a fool to turn down help where it offered, but the last thing she wanted to do was walk into a trap. The odds were already against them, why make it worse?

"Can you offer me any assurance you aren't simply leading us into a trap, to be taken hostage by the Downworlders?" Brianne asked finally, letting her arms drop to her sides. If Paragon made any moves, she would have to simply trust she would be fast enough. She didn't like it, but the situation was now out of her control.

​

Alarick turned to Sien with a small smile on his face. "Always nice to see a friend at a murder scene. Unless you're the body, of course." He grasped the warlock's shoulder, somewhat relieved they had a third member. "So I promised you quid pro quo. Come with me, help us get rid of Masque, and I'll answer every question with all the knowledge I have that isn't sworn to secrecy or not in my head." He paused, thinking quickly. "You can take Nick's place, and Nick can follow me. I'd rather not have to explain to my sister that I got her newest recruit killed on his first mission with me. And before you ask, Masque is the serial killing warlock we've been tracked to bring in for questioning."

This made him realize he left out an important detail as Cin drew his sword. "We need Masque alive. Obviously don't risk your lives, but the Clave wants him kicking and screaming for when Brianne and I question him. So please, do me this favor. I'll make sure you each are rewarded appropriately." His eyes rested on Nick, before turning to Cin for confirmation his orders would be followed, before finally turning back to Sien.

"I always pay my debts." he reminded the warlock with a firm squeeze before letting go, turning back to face the others. "Nick, you watch my back. Sien takes your spot. Let's go." He started off towards Masque's hide out, crew in tow.

​

Grayson took the path outside of the entrance that led to the overgrown gardens. Probably a parking lot or something at this point. He strolled along, face raised to the wind as he took in the scents and sounds that came with the outside. It helped to clear his head of the blood lust and desire that controlled him inside. He needed those feelings, needed the ruthlessness that helped make him who he was, but out here, he could be just Grayson, a single werewolf with not a penny to his name.

He remembered the first time he had Changed as much as the last time. He remembered the first human he had killed, the first werewolf, the first mate he had taken. Each had shaped him into who he was now, and each first would shape him into who he would be. Powerful, strong, and cunning. "Not too much to ask for." He murmured to the ivy that wove its way up the building. No, all he wanted was a challenge. That delicious little bunny last night hadn't proved worthy, and neither would her boyfriend. No, he wanted to fight a fellow wolf, to conquer her and watch the defeat kill the light in her eyes before he finally tore out her throat. Unfortunately he couldn't do that to any of the members in his pack, or he wouldn't have many packmates left after long.

"Who will be, who challenges me?" He whispered to the wind, chuckling at the rhyme.

​

"I don't want to stay. The sun is out, and the birds-!"

"You will do as I say. If you learn this first, then perhaps you can play."

"But-"

"No. You are not betrothed to him, and by Moon's light it is dishonorable that you two spend so much time together."

"But he's my friend!"

"Friends come and go, but our marriage vows remain. I've stayed with your father for six hundred years. What could that possibly mean to a girl who hasn't even reached two hundred? Do you even comprehend what our marriage has survived?"

"I don't care! You can't stop me!"

"Watch me."

 

​

"Rest assured, I may be a curious guy, but I have no plans of ending up a corpse for you to find." Sien said, returning a smile to Alarick's face. His eyes glanced over to Nick upon hearing that he'd be taking his place in the apprehension of Masque. "And what exactly was his role?" Knowing that bit of information would be helpful if he was going to successfully fill the role. They were going to be against a serial killer, probably the one who'd cause all that fuss at Pandemonium. This wasn't something to be taken lightly.

"I know you do." Sien replied. Having said his peace, he followed behind the others towards Masque's supposed hideout.

 

​

Grayson paused to grasp a tendril of the ivy that covered the side of the building, looking up to see the height with which it had reached. Much like his predecessor, it had climbed extraordinary odds in order to survive. All to be pulled down by just a little bit of gravity. Grayson yanked gently, watching the plant collapse on itself before falling in a pile on the ground.

"Just one little slip." He murmured kicking the plant out of his way, again similar to what had happened to his predecessor's corpse, before continuing to the outer wall. Well, except he had eaten him after the werewolf had died. Grayson smiled with the memory, the feeling of triumph flowing through his veins, the blood running agains the floor, the howls of his supporters that turned to snarls as they tore the competition apart.

Normally an alpha would allow the previous members of the pack to make peace and live in the new world their alpha foresaw. Grayson was not that weak. Every child the previous alpha had ever created, ever mate he had ever been with, and every loyal pack member was slaughtered. He could still taste their fear in his mouth, like metal that never rusted.

Ah, but those were the old days. Here and now, he had other problems to contend with.

"I don't suppose you've come to join the pack, have you Rhett?" He turned to face the other werewolf, spotting the gun in his hand. A smile broke out, causing his face to take on a darker predatory tone.

"Well, that's just a damn shame." He answered his own question as he rolled up the bloodied sleeves of his shirt. "Because you know," his voice was becoming deeper, a throaty growl scoring underneath it, "I haven't killed a fellow wolf in far too long." Pulling the shirt off, he revealed a scarred torso, the proud trophies of his past battles.

​

"Where's he gone?"

"He-"

"You're a liar!"

"Morri-"

"I won't let it happen!"

The voices cut away as she stumbled and fell, her foot tripping on some invisible root. She looked up, and stilled.
Yellow eyes circled her in the dark, a rumbling snarl followed. White teeth flashed as the wolf jumped at her, and she threw her hands up to defend herself.

Her screams followed her to the waking world, where she sat straight up, her heart pounding in her chest as memories and dreams collided behind her eyes, wrestling with one another in order to sort out the reality behind it all. She was...in a bed? Her hands tightened into fists as she clenched the sheets, trying to get her bearings. She was back in the guest bedroom.

The guest bedroom of Ash's residence. This was not where she had fallen asleep. Unless it had all been a dream....raising her fingers to her throat, she felt something cool on top of her skin, and pulled her fingers away before smelling them. Rosemary....to cover the bruise.

"Couldn't bear to stare at it? A reminder of your actions?" She spat at the warlock she sensed at her side, letting her hand drop as she stared at the sheets, her mind trying to reform from the pieces. She hadn't dreamed of wolves in years, decades even. What did it mean? "And you...." She lifted the sheets, and then let them slowly drop. "You changed my clothes."

She turned, her hand reaching out and grabbing the first thing it could reach, his shirt collar. Yanking it, she drove him back against the wall, her hand going from the shirt to his throat, her other hand following suit. She held him there, arms trembling as she stared at his collar before up into Ash's face.

"What gives you the fucking right?" She hissed, her eyes burning with fury.

 

​

Grayson managed to dodge the first two shots, but the last four pummeled his body. The disease that gave him the tools for power and respect cried out against the purity of the silver that entered his muscle, and he fell to his knee, one hand braced against the ground as a shudder ran through him.
"You got....guts." He spat out, feeling his teeth elongate, making it tougher to speak. "Brave...."

He looked up, eyes glowing with the magic behind them. "Won't....save...you." His muscles burned and then contracted as he crouched before leaping at Rhett, his body changing into that of a wolf's in midair before he collided with his opponent. His own pain only drove him near completely insanity as he ripped and tore at the body beneath him, struggling to inflict as much damage as wolfly possible before Rhett went got his feet under him again.

Grayson snarled in fury as the silver tried to force his body into submission. He would never submit; not now, not ever. Pain was converted into fury, driving him to try and close his jaws around Rhett's throat.

​

Ash had released her wrists, but Morrigan didn't move. She pressed her face closer to his, nearly having to stand on her toes to make up for the difference in height. She could feel his breath on her face as she narrowed her eyes and whispered, "Is that what you told her wife before the Nephilim burned her to the dust?" She moved her hand as if to brush Ash away, her fury causing her cheeks to flush. "Did you tell her to find the strength inside as she rotted in the sun? No. I would bet my magic you told her it would be okay, you would find a way to be strong, you would save her." She stepped back, holding her hands up.

"Well? Where is she, warlock? Did her strength save her?" Did yours? In the back of her mind, Morrigan knew she had crossed a line. That thought stayed in the back of her mind because she didn't care. Why should she be grateful that nearly dying saved her from one cage only to lock her in another? Why should she try to be strong when it did nothing in the end?

She could feel the words rising in her throat, and she knew she shouldn't say them, but her anger was too far gone.
"Am I just her replacement?"

 

Nick only nodded in agreement. In another situation he may have tried to be witty but this was serious, they were on a hunt for a serial killer. He followed behind Alarick and the group followed the paint-coated footpronts through the city.

During his break, Masque sat down in the staff room and took out a bit of paper and a pencil. He started to sketch something.

Those days... those days he was relentlessly pursued and hated. He could not go anywhere around humans, the horns... the horns showed him for what he truly was. A freak. Inhuman, imperfect. He tried to remove them a few times, but the bases still remained, and no matter how much he hacked, until his forehead was dripping with blood and the rivulets stained his white locks, those circular protusions were affixed to his skull. And so he ran. From the hate, from the threats of death, from the horrific things that had happened to him. Until... Until he met her.
She was a warlock. She understood.

"Hey, what're you drawing" Masque was interrupted by the voice of a colleague. He instinctively hissed and held the picture close to his chest.
"None of your business" he muttered. This man had no right to interrupt him. Sometimes Masque wished for his art to be made public, this was not one of those times. The colleague would of course see him as a human, he had long since learned how to hide himself from mundies. Wouldn't that have been useful back then?
"It looks good Max. A woman right?" the colleague continued to try to talk to him, using the name he gave humans. Masque had to fight the urge to punch the man in the face, or worse. Does he deserve to die? Did they deserve to die? He suddenly withdrew within himself, hiding the picture. He wouldn't retaliate, not here. "A crush of yours?" the colleague taunted. Masque shot upwards suddenly, his eyes filled with fury
"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" he shrieked, his voice cracking. Everyone else in the room was staring. Shaking, Masque tried to fight the conflicting emotions that thrashed in his mind. Guilt, anger, sorrow, fury. He couldn't stay here.

He'd probably be fired. That was inconvenient, but on the other hand, leaving was still better than killing everyone in the coffee shop. As soon as he returned home he broke down crying in the hallway. He though back to the alley, to the club, to the fairy in the park... Why did they all have to die? To feed his violent urges? Masque had always used art to vent his emotions. The masks helped him keep track of his emotion. When he wore the angry mask, he knew to feel anger, he created masterpieces of violence and brutality. But right now, he wore the sorrowful mask, and all that filled his mind was guilt and remorse.
"Stupid masque, stupid" he murmured.

​

"1. Relax, darling, I didn't look. And I wasn't inside your phone, I was simply using it as a method of transport" he sighed as he realised he would have to answer all these questions, her turned to Brianne "2. I'm glad you don't know of me, that was rather the point. But you may call me Paragon. 3. Grayson Keller is a disruption in downworlder society, he cannot be allowed to live. 4. No, I can't give you assurance, I wish that was possible, but I can tell you that currently there is another werewolf fighting Mr Keller. Also, I'm not quite so stupid to try and fight three nephilim at once, especially experienced ones such as yourselves" he explained "Mr Keller is currently in an old police station somewhere over there, along with his pack. Will you co-operate with me"

 

Hendrick laughed when Roxanne threatened the newcomer, wanting to make sure they hadn't looked through anything in their phone. He had nothing to hide on his little brick and it was convenient. "Calm down, Roxanne, don't think your electronic friend, looked through your stuff, not much to see anyways." The Older Nephilim said with a small grin on his face. Brianne was more guarded like himself. Asking questions that mattered, names, intentions. He suspected just like Brianne it might be a trap. He kept his hand hovering near the hilt of his blade. Azrael, the Angel of Death it had served him well for years on end. It had been his first blade and he still used it to this day. Brianne stood protectively over them. He was several years her senior and well while he was wounded he could still fight, relatively decently.

The newcomer introduced himself as Paragon, oh just what the city needed a bloody vigilante. Who was glad that they didn't know him, funnily enough his information wasn't entirely correct either atleast when it came to him, but nothing that needed to be mentioned. So this bloke used Roxanne's phone as a means of transport, well then glad that his phone wasn't useful for that. Didn't need this clown appearing mid mission and blow his cover. And when he mentioned he wasn't stupid enough to take on three experienced Nephilim he wanted to snort, but kept his remarks to himself. "This is all fine and dandy, but how do you know all this. After all you appeared out of nowhere wanting to go after the biggest wolf in the city, just because he's a disruption in the society. What is it to you? Why do you care about this?" Hendrick asked Paragon, he would remain guarded around this man.

 

​

Paragon smiled at the comments of Hendrick "How do I know? I already told you, we have been watching. We have always been watching?" He suddenly jumped into the air and out came the wings. Orange, pink, many different hues adorned the fluttering and delicate-seeming butterfly wings that sprouted from the fairy's back. They fluttered gently as he hovered in mid-air "The clave may send in their minions, but I prefer to deal with things personally. It is, quite simply, my job to care" he paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side "When did the relations between fairies and nephilim become to strained? Is it so hard to believe that I'm just here to help? And you wonder why everyone seems to hate you... Well worry not. For I am one who does not hate you, on the contrary, I appreciate what you're trying to do for us... even if you do sometimes go about it the wrong way"

 

​

Alarick remained silent on the train ride. It was an hour walk, or a five minute stay on the tram. Whatever the case, he was mentally cataloging the complaints, racking them up to form a list that he was going to berate Brianne for. Why they didn't have their own mode of transportation was beyond him. In Alicante, technology failed to work past the barriers that encircled the entire city. There they used horses, his preferred method. Here...it would be hard to get a horse through the streets that were stuffed full of cars, let alone the noise pollution. He hoped the Institute was warded against noises on the outside, or he wasn't sure he was going to be able to get any sleep.

He had cast a rune of glamour over himself and made sure the others had done so as well before they got on the fast moving line of metal and steel. As it screeched to a halt, he sighed, rubbing his temple. That was the fifth time it had done that in the last two minutes. Thank the Angel they were the next stop. It did give way to the problem of transporting Masque back, however. He didn't want to run the risk of losing the homicidal warlock on the train, but the walk would be far more dangerous in case any of Masque's supports, whomever they were, caught wind of what was happening and tried to free him.

I wonder if either of them know how to hotwire a car. He managed to keep his smile hidden, but his eyes glinted.

​

Grayson howled in pain, using his teeth to grab the scruff of Rhett's neck and shaking him, trying to pull him off. The wounds burned, the burning beginning to spread from the bullet holes themselves to other parts of his body. On the edges of his perception, he could sense others arriving, and standing back. Good. His pack was a hard crew, and they wouldn't respect an Alpha that couldn't defend himself from his own enemy. Even if that enemy had used silver in an attempt to even the playing field.

He threw himself free of Rhett, and circled, growling deep in his throat as his blood dripped to the floor, his paws leaving prints in the crimson. This was clearly not Rhett's first fight either. He snapped his jaws, intimidatingly before halting, tail swishing. It was too bad Rhett had chosen the wrong side. He could have been the beta, easily.

Snapping his jaws again, Grayson lunged at Rhett, moving to clamp his teeth around one of the opponent's forelegs.

​

For that long moment, for those terrible few seconds that passed, it wasn't Ash that held her against the wall, poised to strike, but her father. The will of iron that had been so recently forged started to bend and wilt, unable to hold against a fear centuries in the making.
She wrapped her arms around her stomach, feeling slightly nauseated after he let her go, preferring to remain leaning against the wall in case the strength of her legs failed her. They always had in the past.

Every bitter word of Ash's explanation, every sentence smashed against the walls her anger had built up. She could feel the tendrils of rage slipping, and desperately grasped for them, for anger gave way to pain and sadness, and she could afford neither.
"You're centuries too late." When she finally spoke, her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, putting more strength in the tones, removing the fear, the pain, any trace of that little fey girl crying in the corner. "I'm not some science experiment, cobbled together to make amends for the past. I'm not a path to redemption." Morrigan's eyes might have been dry, but her heart was bleeding, and she doubted the wound would ever be stanched. Ignored maybe, but never closed.

"I'm just me." She intoned, the last tendrils of anger slipping away as she stared at the portrait, the face of the woman forever lost.
"And just me is not enough to erase the pain of the fallen, nor is it enough to put any hope in a future."
Removing herself from the wall, she stepped towards the bed and sat back down on the mattress, curling her feet underneath her, tucking her hair behind one pointed ear. "The Seelie Queen made mention of it." She answered his earlier question with a softer voice, her hands moving towards a strand of hair as she began to braid it, keeping her fingers occupied.

"It was the talk of the Court, for a time. It was...." she stared at the black strands that contrasted against her pale skin. If she stared just closely enough, she could see the poison moving through her veins like small spiderwebs. It sickened her. "It was not my place to say such things. I offer my apology."
She had become so much like those she despised, and that sickened her too. She had to be better then them, or what was the point?

​

Brianne's mind started working in overtime as Paragon mentioned that Grayson was fighting another wolf. A victim that wouldn't go quietly? Or one of his own? It didn't matter. A Downworlder was in danger. "I'm going to go on ahead." She interrupted the conversation, her eyes like shards of obsidian.

I won't let another soul fall victim to that sick bastard. "Hendrick, Roxanne, follow with Paragon when you're ready. I'm going to circle around and try to damage Grayson while he's distracted." Her mouth set in a grim line, she skirted around and set off, hoping against hope she wouldn't be too late.

She hadn't arrived in time to save Masque's latest victim, perhaps she could make up for it by saving this one werewolf.