Clarissa & Malachi | Hallways
Malachi wasn't sure what his plans were for the evening as he strolled through the hallways. Lia was away, as was Blaise, which left him more than a little bored. He had made other friends, of course, falling into the act of roguish charmer with much more ease than those who really knew him might expect but he still didn't actively pursue any of them outside the two girls that had "adopted" him. He knew he could go train, but there was a chance that Clary would be there. Training with her was one of his favorite things to do, but they also couldn't be trusted alone. And after their last encounter with Hawke, who seemed to pick up on more between them than anyone else, he figured it was best to cool his heels a bit.
That left him, rather pathetically, out of options.
Deciding to see what was going on in the Great Hall, Malachi was whistling to himself as he made his way down the corridors. He wasn't quite to his destination yet before his senses immediately alerted him to trouble. It was a feeling more than anything concrete, and his hand was slipping his steele from his pocket before the sounds of shouting and gunfire even reached him. Several students scrambled past him, no doubt fleeing the men who were obviously coming from the Great Hall, and Malachi didn't hesitate to pull two curved swords from his belt as he started to run towards the place everyone was fleeing.
He held both weapons in one hand as the other finished several runes on his skin, somehow still managing to separate a few hands holding guns aimed at innocent students from their owners even one-handed himself. Once the runes were complete, however, he was a whirlwind of steel and blood. Body parts rolled onto the floor, men cried out before falling forever silent, and Malachi was stained with a fair amount of other people's blood by the time he spotted a familiar face. He'd stopped caring about his persona here the minute things had been thrown into chaos, and was all warrior now.
The man that was standing over Clary was much bigger than her, but he had no doubt she could have taken him down if she'd been in a better position. Or maybe it was just his own instinct to protect her. Whatever the reason, he let go of one of the blade, flinging it like a frisbee towards the man just as he started to bring his foot down towards Clary's ribs. There was a sickening sound as the blade embedded itself directly in the man's neck, though it hadn't quite made it all the way through to sever his head; which left a gruesome picture of his head half hanging off his neck, sadly.
Coming up beside her, he sighed. "I told you we should have practiced throwing last week," he commented, eyeing his incomplete work with a tsk.