ᴄʟᴀʀʏ "ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ" ғʀᴀʏ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cupio) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poly_chromatic2013-10-06 04:42 pm
cupio) wrote in poly_chromatic2013-10-06 04:42 pm
→ sixteenth rune ←
You didn't feel pity. You didn't feel anything.
[ The voice in the memory is Clary's, angry and hurt and confused all at once. It blurs and shifts around her as though she's tried to block it out but the more time goes, the more solid the details become. They are in a room that comes straight out of a museum. Panneled walls and torches, an endlessly long dining table, mirrors that caught fire and glittered. It's old fashioned and old money and Clary looks out of place within it, dirty as she is. ]
That's enough, Clary! [ This time the voice is Jace's and Clary shifts enough to stare at him, horror clear on her features. As though a contrast to her, he is clean and healthy looking in his white shirt and pants, his gold hair scrubbed clean of the usual demon blood. ] Don't talk about my father like that.
He's not your father!
[ The outburst makes Jace look as though he's been slapped, disbelief filtering through his voice. ] Why are you so determined not to believe us?
Because she loves you. [ The new voice is smooth, empowered. The man who speaks has silver hair that gleams like a steel helmet and a mouth that is settled in a hard line. The sword at his waist is long and imposing. He looks every inch the law. Or whatever brand of law can be found in a place like this. ] She fears I am taking advantage of you. That I have brainwashed you. It isn't so, of course. If you looked into your own memories, Clary, you would know it. Sit down, Jonathan. Let her come to it on her own.
Jonathan? Did you lie about that too?
No. Jace is a nickname. It's my initials. J.C.
[ When she speaks, Clary sounds frightened and though she is ill. ] Jonathan. Jonathan Christopher.
[ When Jace moves to speak, to ask her how she knows that, he is cut off once more by Valentine. ]
Jace, I had thought to spare you. I thought a story of a mother who died would hurt you less than the story of a mother who abandoned you before your first birthday.
My mother is alive?
She is. Alive, and asleep in one of the downstairs rooms at this very moment. Yes. Jocelyn is your mother, Jonathan. And Clary - Clary is your sister.
( ooc: m-m-memory theatre. this goes up sometime sunday morning and stays up. all font in red is clary, green is jace, and silver isshadowhunter hitler valentine. um, warnings for accidental incest? )
[ The voice in the memory is Clary's, angry and hurt and confused all at once. It blurs and shifts around her as though she's tried to block it out but the more time goes, the more solid the details become. They are in a room that comes straight out of a museum. Panneled walls and torches, an endlessly long dining table, mirrors that caught fire and glittered. It's old fashioned and old money and Clary looks out of place within it, dirty as she is. ]
That's enough, Clary! [ This time the voice is Jace's and Clary shifts enough to stare at him, horror clear on her features. As though a contrast to her, he is clean and healthy looking in his white shirt and pants, his gold hair scrubbed clean of the usual demon blood. ] Don't talk about my father like that.
He's not your father!
[ The outburst makes Jace look as though he's been slapped, disbelief filtering through his voice. ] Why are you so determined not to believe us?
Because she loves you. [ The new voice is smooth, empowered. The man who speaks has silver hair that gleams like a steel helmet and a mouth that is settled in a hard line. The sword at his waist is long and imposing. He looks every inch the law. Or whatever brand of law can be found in a place like this. ] She fears I am taking advantage of you. That I have brainwashed you. It isn't so, of course. If you looked into your own memories, Clary, you would know it. Sit down, Jonathan. Let her come to it on her own.
Jonathan? Did you lie about that too?
No. Jace is a nickname. It's my initials. J.C.
[ When she speaks, Clary sounds frightened and though she is ill. ] Jonathan. Jonathan Christopher.
[ When Jace moves to speak, to ask her how she knows that, he is cut off once more by Valentine. ]
Jace, I had thought to spare you. I thought a story of a mother who died would hurt you less than the story of a mother who abandoned you before your first birthday.
My mother is alive?
She is. Alive, and asleep in one of the downstairs rooms at this very moment. Yes. Jocelyn is your mother, Jonathan. And Clary - Clary is your sister.
( ooc: m-m-memory theatre. this goes up sometime sunday morning and stays up. all font in red is clary, green is jace, and silver is
[ Video ]
He remembers the scene as if it were yesterday, and yet it feels like a lifetime ago, even more so with their current circumstances.
Somehow, he manages to sound regretful, angry, and sorrowful all at once, his voice cracking around the edges and quiet in a way that lacks the usual front. ]
I should never have believed him.
[ Video ]
I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to be up there. I've been telling everyone who'll listen that it isn't true. [ Please don't hate me. ]
[ Video ]
I don't care what anyone else thinks, we know the truth. That's all that really matters. [ It's the fact that she apologises that breaks something, chest aching like he's been punched. His voice is softer, aiming for soothing and reassuring. ] It's not your fault, Clary. None of it is your fault.
[ Video ]
[ What else could the City pluck from her thoughts? Losing Simon, kissing Sebastian. the Lightwoods seeing Max's body? Nothing is sacred. ]