Entry tags:

clarissa morgenstern

Who: Clary Morgenstern. Works as a narritive, open to tag if someone wants
What: Blowing off steam
When: A few hours after she got back to Lawrence
Where: On a hill in a park
Rating: PG-13
Status: Incomplete

The inability to get a meaning across to some people amazed her. Clary was well aware she was stubborn, one track minded and very always set on doing what she wanted. But she'd being doing her very best to not be like that since arriving. She'd tried to argue her point when she got here, and had been shot down. Clary couldn't remember how many times she had mentioned at least learning more about the world she was now in only to be ignored. Finally one of the brothers had dropped some books off for her to read, which wasn't quite what she had been told she could do, but she wasn't going to complain about it. So she'd taken the book without a complaint and pulled everything she could out of it.

The hunt had gone okay. A solid two days of hunting, she would have passed out if it wasn't for the fact that she forced herself to stay away through runes. There was a half healed gash on her face, but all of the bruises she had collected had faded when she healed herself. Her body was still sore, but it had gone okay. The thing was dead, and they'd managed to figure it out. It obviously could have gone better, but they'd managed. The last thing she had expected to happen was for people to snap at her for being confused as a friend of a celebrity. It was beyond her. She got that they weren't happy about the joke. They didn't like her sense of humor, fine, she wouldn't expose them to it anymore, but what else they wanted was beyond her.

After arguing until her face matched the colour of her hair, she had closed her laptop and grabbed her sketch pad and pencil. After bundling up for the winter, she armed herself, and then headed out of the complex. For a while she just wondered, moving aimlessly until, like clockwork, she found herself staring down at a park from the top of it's highest hill. Whenever she was upset, she sought out the highest area automatically, it wasn't even something she thought about.

Sinking down into the ground, she shifted herself around until she was comfortable, placed her sword very close so she could covered it if needed, and then brought out her sketch pad. Eventually the park before her started to form in extreme detail, about an hour had past when she heard something shift behind her. Slowly her eyes looked up as her hand moved to let go of her pencil and slowly hover over the sword tucked in by her legs.

Very slowly, she turned her upper body to look behind her, and her eyes went wide.

It was the little girl. The little vampire girl. What her name was, Clary couldn't remember for the life of her, but there she was. Looking as innocent as always, though slightly more ratty now that Drusilla wasn't around to mother it. She sat frozen in her place, eyeing the girl that was just staring at her with that tiny smile on her face that gave Clary the chills.

The vampire-child noticed that Clary was slowly moving her sword around, because it's face suddenly left its human form behind, eyes yellowing, forehead twisting and tiny little fangs coming forth. The child lunged, and Clary though up her arms. She wasn't marked, not for strength, healing, swiftness, nothing. In a sense she was working as a normal human. She flew backward into a deeper section of the snow, child still ontop of her. Her hand tightened around her blade, telling her she still had her grip on it. Her other hand was holding back the kid vampire while its hands clawed at Clary's face. Clary blinked as the kids nails missed her eye. Using her hand and her other arm, she shoved the kid backward long enough for her to get into a crouching position.

Clary glared at the demon child through her mass of red hair that was now hanging in her face. The kid came wildly at her again, at least it didn't seem to know any martial arts. It was, in many ways, still a kid. A demonic kid. Eyes still wide, she waited, the voice in her head that sounded way to much like Jace counting with her. When the kid was close enough, Clary stood, swinging the angel sword with her, cutting the child from waist to throat.

As it vanished in a pile of dust, Clary's heart sank. She looked around carefully, but the section of the park was all nature, and remained empty, all of the voices were carried from the playground.

The little girl had been no more than what? Nine? Ten? Max had been around that age, and though she hadn't known him that well, she'd liked him. And he had been killed by someone he had come to trust, Clary's own brother had bashed his head in. They were both so young. If people were going to freak out over age, it should be over someone who was that young. She felt sick as she stood there staring down at the vampires ashes, watching until the window blew the rest of it away.

Lifting her hand to her face, she pressed her fingers to her skin, to pull them back and find some sticky red blood. The kid had managed to scratch her nicely. Lowering her head, she used the back of her hand to brush away some salty water that had formed in her eyes.

She missed home, and how things were there. She had to prove herself there to, but at least they had been willing to let her.

Sighing, Clary tucked her sword back onto her clothes, and then moved to collect her sketch pad and pencil. It was time to go back, maybe have Martha check out the scratches to be sure the kid wasn't carrying anything under her nails.