Clary Fray (angel_blood) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2016-10-10 21:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !completed gdoc, !log, ~2016 october, ~25 points, ~~clary fray (angel_blood), ~~~jace herondale (hatesbergamot) |
WHO: Jace Wayland Herondale and Clary Fray
WHAT: More angst
WHEN: Oct 9
WHERE: Walmart
WARNINGS: Angst.
STATUS: Closed/Completed Gdoc
Jace’s talk with Will had been...well, nice. He’d enjoyed talking to the Shadowhunter from his past, the one who was supposedly his ancestor, although before coming here, Jace had never had the slightest idea that he was a Herondale. It was a strange thing to consider and left many questions unanswered - mostly about his father. He couldn’t help remembering what Clary had said, that Valentine was the man that he’d thought was his father. If that was true, should he be questioning everything that he’d been taught?
Much to his utter disgust, Jace found himself at Walmart this afternoon. The truth was, the money that they gave him when he’d arrived was almost gone, and although he hated the idea of it, he needed soap and other personal hygiene products which he couldn’t afford anywhere else. That was what had brought him to this place. The only thing that could bring him to this place. As he walked down the aisles, he looked at everything with a bit of scorn, as if the entire place was beneath him.
Thankfully, it didn’t take him too long to find the the things he needed. Turning to head to the checkout and get out of this godawful place, he saw Clary, who also seemed to be looking at soap. Jace froze, everything in him stopping as he saw her, his vision narrowing to include only her. After a moment, he shook his head, annoyed with himself for that reaction, and forced himself to pass her, stopping and nodding curtly.
“Fray.”
***
So it was Fray, was it? Not even Clary. She wasn’t sure if she should be stung or hopeful: Jace was obviously trying to make a point, so either he was purposely distancing himself from her because he’d decided he wanted nothing to do with her...or she was getting to him, and he needed to give himself space. Either way, Clary wasn’t going to get her hopes up, or let him push her around.
“Herondale,” she greeted, lifting both eyebrows. She’d never managed to get the hang of just lifting one. “Is that how we’re greeting each other now?”
***
He grimaced a little, definitely not used to being called a “Herondale” yet. He knew very little about the family, although it was a well known Shadowhunter name. He was pretty sure that the Inquisitor was a Herondale, but he didn’t know the woman at all. Thankfully, they’d never even met.
He crossed his arms while still keeping his basket in his possession.
“It is your name, isn’t it?”
***
There was something inherently funny in the sight of Jace being Jace with a Walmart basket in hand. Unfortunately, everything else was very unfunny, and Clary couldn't bring herself to be amused.
“Most people just call me Clary,” she said, setting the body wash she'd been inspecting back in the shelf. Only Simon called her Fray sometimes, and that was when he was trying to be sassy.
***
“Clary sage is a medicinal herb,” he stated. “But I suppose you knew that already.” All Shadowhunters had education in such matters, so he assumed that she did too. “Fray is not a Shadowhunter name, though. You told me that your mother was a Fairchild. Why don’t you go by that?”
It was confusing, even if her mother was trying to deny her past, Clary had gone beyond that.
***
“Just used to it, I guess,” Clary said with a shrug. “And...Fairchild is a well-respected name in the Shadowhunter world. I want to make sure I’m worthy of it first, before I fully take it.”
Names were a big deal for Shadowhunters. Simon had chosen his to honour his friend. Clary wanted to make sure she could live up to hers.
***
That was completely true, it was a respected name in the Shadowhunter world. As was Herondale. And Wayland. And Lightwood. Jace was feeling very much up in the air at the moment as to his own identity. He liked Will, but seeing the guy who was pretty much the same age as he was and thinking of him as an ancestor was...strange, to say the least. But something about it felt right, just like something about Clary felt right.
And that was beyond terrifying.
“It’s yours,” he said, “Whether you’re worthy of it or not. Perhaps you should simply make yourself worthy of it. No need to be so passive.”
***
Clary bristled at that. There were definitely times, like these, when she remembered what an ass Jace could be. She'd just forgotten because she'd seen him change and grow.
“Don't assume I'm not already,” she told him. “Like you keep pointing out, you don't know me. So you don't know what I'm doing to make myself worthy or not.”
***
“I certainly don’t know you,” he said, nonplussed. “I am simply implying your uncertainty from what you said yourself.” He shrugged, falling back into himself as he did so often.
“And I don’t actually care what you’re doing to make yourself worthy.”
***
He didn't care at all, and that was the whole problem. Because if he did, they wouldn't be in this position and she wouldn't feel like someone had scooped out her insides with a rusted spoon.
“Fine,” she said shortly, turning back to the shelf. “You don't care. I get the point.”
She didn't even know why he had come here, unless it was to get soap. If that was the case, she could just step aside and let him.
Grabbing the first bottle of body wash within reach, she turned away. “All yours.”
***
A look of amusement flashed through Jace’s eyes at her selection.
“Do you usually bathe with men’s soap?” He, of course, knew the answer to that question. When her rune had heightened his sense of smell, his experience of her had been anything but masculine. But still, when she picked up a bottle of Old Spice, it was amusing. His face fell, though.
“Why do you keep running from me?”
***
Oh great. Not only was she the girl who was pathetically in love with him, she was now also the girl who was so pathetically in love with him that she was buying Old Spice.
Mortified, Clary quickly put the bottle back and snatched a bottle of Dove. She had no idea what scent it was, but she knew it wasn’t her usual. Whatever, she would make do.
“I’m not running from you, I just don’t want to stand around while you treat me like you treat everybody else, like you can’t even show one bit of likability in case they end up loving you or you loving them because the man who raised you was emotionally abusive and taught you that love is a weakness.”
***
Something very, very subtle flashed in Jace’s eyes. It was almost unnoticeable, barely a glimmer of emotion. Nobody who didn’t know him intimately would have been able to see it at all, but it was there. Because...there was truth in her words, truth that terrified him. For so long he’d been fighting the feelings inside of him. He knew that there was weakness inside of him, weakness that refused to disappear, no matter how he tried to push it down.
He crossed his arms, defensively.
“Maybe I’m just not a likeable person.”
***
Clary knew him better than anyone, and she saw that small bit of emotion. She felt badly for him, but she didn’t know how to help him. This was something he had to learn on his own.
“You have the blood of angels in you, Jace,” she said softly. “You love with a capacity Valentine could never hope to understand, so he tried to burn it out of you. But I know he didn’t succeed. It’s who you are, and it’s made you stronger once you realized you didn’t need to fight it. You figured that out back home. I hope you figure it out here. Because I know how lonely it is.”
***
Jace still wasn’t finding it particularly easy to accept the whole ‘you-were-raised-by-Valentine’ thing that Clary was insisting upon. That wasn’t a comfortable thing to hear, and it didn’t work with his memories. His mind told him that he had been raised by Michael Wayland, who was his father. But there was so much of that which was wrong that Jace wasn’t exactly sure who he was, anymore.
He shifted his weight from one foot to another - the only outward sign of the awkwardness he felt. Listening to Clary’s words, he felt them touch something that hadn’t been touched in a very, very long time. Yes, he was lonely. Miserably so. Refusing to allow himself to connect with others hurt in ways that he couldn’t explain. But he’d convinced himself that it was for their own good. That it was selfless. That it was the right thing to do.
But it didn’t make him happy. Jace couldn’t remember the last time he’d been happy. He wasn’t sure if he ever really had been.
Something softened imperceptibly in his golden eyes, and he turned them away from her, reaching up to pluck the correct scent of body wash from the wall and replace it in her basket. He knew it was the correct one because he’d never forget that smell. Not ever.
“This one,” he said softly, not saying anything more, but saying so much with those two words.
***
It said how much he’d been paying attention to her. It said that he was aware of her, so aware of her he knew exactly how she smelled. It said that despite what he claimed and what Clary sometimes thought, he did care. At least just a little.
“Thanks,” she said, just as softly. She felt as if she were facing a cornered animal, one who had just made the first step towards her, but would bolt if she were to make any sudden moves or noises. This was the hardest part: waiting for him to come to her of his own volition, when she wanted to just reach out to him and kiss away the uncertainty and hurt that hid so deep in him.
***
There was silence for a few moments. Jace didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t manage his characteristic nonchalance at the moment, but he felt lost and...well...although he’d never admit it, he was afraid. He’d nearly frozen in place after putting the soap in her basket, and now, a few moments later, he took a rather dramatic and obvious step back, putting the distance between them once again.
“Well then,” he said, clearing his throat. “I suppose I’ve done my good deed for the day.”
***
...and the spell was broken.
Clary released the breath she’d been holding and took a step back as well. She needed the space as well.
“Thanks,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looked away, back at him, and then again away before speaking in a forcibly cheerful tone.
“Can I go pay for this now without being accused of running away again?”
***
Jace gave her a one-shouldered shrug, as if he could not possibly care less what she did right now. It wasn’t entirely sincere, although he did the best that he could to make it look that way.
“Now, you aren’t running,” he stated, before turning to grab his own soap, releasing her to go on her way.
***