WHO: Jace Herondale and Allison Argent WHAT: Comparing fighting techniques WHEN: Today WHERE: The Woods WARNINGS: Nah STATUS: Closed/Started in Gdocs, continued in comments
Despite himself, Jace couldn’t help but be a little impressed by the number of decent fighters in this town. They weren’t as good as him, of course, but there were more than a few he wouldn’t mind training with, and he had certainly not expected that. Most of them weren’t mundanes, granted, but creatures and people with powers that didn’t even exist back home. It was a little disorienting, but at least he didn’t have to fight himself.
He’d been out in the woods for a good part of the day hunting for herbs when in the way back he heard the sound of a bow string and the whoosh of an arrow. His ears located the direction of it right away, and he crouched in the bushes to watch what was happening. In a small clearing was a pretty girl, and even he had to admit that her skill with a bow was impressive. After she’d shot the arrows in her quiver, he stepped out of the woods.
“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” It was pure Jace - blunt, vaguely rude, and straight to the point.
***
She’d felt his eyes on her before she finished shooting, but Allison hadn’t known who was out there. Instead of reacting, she had kept on with her shooting even though she knew whoever it was would likely appear once her quiver was empty; but they wouldn’t know she was armed in other ways. Because she was, Allison looked a little wary, but still friendly, when she turned to him. The question didn’t bother her, because it was an expected one.
“From my dad,” she replied.
***
“Pretty good, for a mundane,” he said with a nod. Of course, Jace often found himself impressed when mundanes were able to walk down the street without tripping over their feet. He didn’t have the most confidence in them, since the entire purpose of his life was to protect them from things they couldn’t - or wouldn’t - see.
“And where did he learn? Was he military?”
It made the best sense. Sometimes military branches had halfway decent training, even by Jace’s standards,
***
“A mundane?” She scoffed slightly, but didn’t take too much offense as she lowered the bow completely, still watching him. The question had her eyebrows climbing slightly.
“It’s been a family skill for more than two centuries,” Allison finally said evenly, not willing to give too much information about her dad to someone she didn’t actually know.
“What are you doing out here?”
***
“Mortal humans who can’t see the Shadow world,” he said. “Mundanes.” He brushed it away as though it didn’t mean much, far more interested in what she was saying about fighting. “Family business sort of thing? How does that work exactly?”
He was curious about that, because being a Shadowhunter was hereditary too. Was what she did something like what he did?
“I’m just out,” he said, not wanting to tell her what he was doing, either.
***
“It’s more of a...calling. Not exactly a business.” Because it wasn’t. They had rules, and traditions, and a creed - one she’d come up with herself, after they had decided to turn away from all the pain their way had caused in the past.
“Why do you ask?” She said after a moment, more curious about his interest at the moment.
***
Jace thought for a moment about what exactly he should tell her. It was different here in Madison Valley. He knew that. They could talk about being Shadowhunters without it causing any sort of problem. Madison Valley was a place outside of time, and there was more freedom because of it.
“Because my...Job,” he said, not liking the word but using it because he figured it would be familiar for her, “Is hereditary too.”
***
“Your job,” she repeated, before frowning a little and walking over to the target to start collecting her arrows from where they were clustered around the center.
“Are you a hunter of some kind? Or a part of a cult?” The question wasn’t nearly as casual as she wanted it to be, but in Madison Valley it didn’t always matter too much.
***
“On the first, it depends what you mean by ‘hunter’. On the second, certainly not. I’m not sure I even believe in God, so cult membership would be rather difficult, don’t you think?” He paused and looked slightly annoyed before moving on. “I’m a Shadowhunter. We’re Nephilim, possessing the blood of the angels. We fight demons and protect the Mundane world from the Shadow World.”
He shrugged. “It’s what I did, and my father did, and his father before him. They weren’t as good as I am, though.” The words were arrogant, but the truth was that they were also completely truthful. Jace was the best Shadowhunter of his age.
***
Allison was glad she wasn’t looking at him when he answered, mainly because she’d been right in thinking that annoying him might garner a response - which it did, so she spared herself a tiny smile. Her face was smooth when she did turn back to him, but still curious.
“Blood of the angels? So...doesn’t that automatically mean that God factors in there somewhere?” Since he’d stated that he was something called a “Shadowhunter”, Allison didn’t bother to clarify on the hunter question herself.
“So they taught you?”
***
“Angels exist. Demons exist. I’ve seen no proof of Satan or God,” he said with a shrug. And until he did, he wasn’t the sort to believe in things that he couldn’t see. He believed in himself and in Clary, and in the people around him. He didn’t have time for theology.
“Angels? No.” Although he supposed they had, a little. “My father taught me. Or, I thought he was my father.” Turned out that he hadn’t been. He’d been Clary’s father, and one of the cruelest Shadowhunters of their day.
***
“I know demons do. I didn’t hear about angels being real until I came here,” she replied. But it was a little weird to hear about someone having the blood of the angels.
“No, I meant your dad and grandad,” Allison said. “What do you mean? He wasn’t?” Despite her initial wariness, this conversation was actually interesting her.
***
“Oh. My real father? I never knew him. He died before I was born. So did my grandfather.” He paused. “My mother killed herself and I was cut out of her after she died. The man who did it claimed to be my father, but he was anything but.” Jace’s face turned dark, as it always did when he spoke of Valentine.
“He was a terrible person. If I hadn’t met Clary, I think I probably would have been, too.”