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 You Get Though the Twilight..., tag :: alec lightwood :: open
Rupert Giles
 Posted: Feb 27, 2016 | 2:03 pm
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We'll see it through.
It's what we're always here to do
So we will walk through the fire.
Water and soap, cold from how long it all had been sitting in the sink, ran out from the pan and down the drain. The sound of the crashing splash and the slowly fading drain were the only things to pierce the still quiet of the apartment, before the silence was back. Rupert Giles watched the water as it disappeared, rushing away from the pots and pans and sinks and off to join some other series of pipes before it would join the ocean… He stood looking at the sink long after the water was gone and the faucet was off. It wasn’t due to some great intellectual or mystical foresight, or pondering, but because his brain had reached a kind of capacity, and there was nothing but numbness that could only be reached in such a mundane, normal observation. Water down the drain.

His inert mind was awoken by the thing that called to his English heart; The tea kettle that had been heating in the stove sputtered then committed to its whistle and let him know that it didn’t needed to be heated anymore, thank you. Giles liked this kettle. It was a particularly polite one. Some kettles were screamers and others barely a titter so it was easy to forget that point. But this one he would be disappointed about leaving behind when it came time to move again. He put the pot down and walked the two paces to the stove to remove the kettle from the heat.

He finished the dishes while the tea seeped, and in a few minutes he was walking out of the kitchen and directly into the living room/library/altar space that was the one room that wasn’t a bedroom and bathroom in this tiny apartment. Most of the space in the room was taken up by the casting circle that he had drawn out in it, but he managed to keep a corner of the room separated by the window with just enough room for a desk and a wing-backed chair. While there was a bedroom with a bed in it, he preferred to spend his time in the living room, dancing around the edges of the casted circle. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Buffy alone.

The girl in question had been unconscious now for several days, just this side of a week, and while there had been moments when he was concerned for her, so far she had been, for the most part, stable. At least, she was as stable as a person in a state of astral transdimensional travel could be. They hadn’t gotten to the point where he should be worried about how long she was gone. The Trials were not known to be an easy thing, and time worked differently in all layers of Hell.

They were, however, getting to the point where Giles needed to wonder about where his next meal would be coming from. It was this thought that occurred to him as his skittered around the edges of the circle, settle into his chair by the window, resolve to finish reading the next chapter of his book, and promptly fall asleep. He knew because he blinked for a moment and the sun went from being sometime around late afternoon to being completely gone, and, even more tragic, his tea got cold

Well, that was an afternoon well spent... After he firmly woke up with a start, which was really the only proper way for a slightly paranoid Englishman to wake up, and remembered where he was, he tossed the book aside, slung a disapproving look at his tea cup, and rose from the chair. He stood cautiously, moving only just slightly, and looking down at the sleeping girl... young woman... in the room. The only light of the room came from the flickering candles placed around the circle that encased Buffy Summers. He didn't need to worry about them burning down or going out. Their position in the active ritual meant that magic had a clear hold on them. Technically, he didn't need to worry about Buffy's safety. Not really. Even if someone came in here to harm her, he had made sure to cast extra protections on the apartment and the circle beyond the measure in place from the Demon Trials ritual itself.

He had taken every precaution. He knew Buffy was the Slayer. Even if there were many in the world now, she would still be “the.” For all intents and purposes, she could take care of herself. That wasn't it. The idea of losing her (again) was not a mistake that he could bare to face. She trusted him to protect her now, and he wasn't going to fail in that. His musings, before they could take a predictably dark turn, were put on halt when he stomach reminded him that he had been hungry when the sun went down, and his little nap hadn't really helped him in that department.

He needed to leave. The apartment was short on food, and man could not live on tea alone. He knew, were she awake, Buffy would tell him to get something to eat, but he didn't like the idea of leaving her alone. Worse, though, was the idea of ordering food and having it come to them. The door had a clear view of the living room, and Giles didn't feel like explaining to some wide eyed delivery boy why he had an unconscious twenty-five year old woman sitting in a runic circle in the middle of his floor. So out for proper groceries it would have to be.

He checked the charms and protections two more times before he left, and checked the lock on the door thrice. He would need to be quick, and he thought he remembered seeing a grocer some two blocks down. The worst part would be walking in this February chill...

Twenty minutes later, he was almost back with several bags in hand. He had been doing his best to not look at his watch or in the general direction of the apartment every thirty seconds. He managed to keep it to five, and only look like an English prick with better places to be, as opposed to a paranoid foreigner who looked hopelessly lost. Pulling his coat closer around him, he pushed on and came to the correct building. He was about to let himself inside when something stopped him. It wasn't something particularly noticeable. More like a shift in the direction of the wind, but...

He turned away from the door and walked to the corner of the building. The wall to the nearby alley was made up on one side by the wall that held the window to the apartment Buffy was in. Looking down the alley, it was hard to tell, but he was certain there was something there, and it felt like it was something that shouldn't be. Since they was not some casual Sunday stroll he was on, he knew better than to ignore that gut feeling.

Without a word but with his groceries still in tow, he made his way into the alley, sidestepping slowly, and prepared for he knew not what.

notes: starter!
words: 1206| tag: alec, open
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Alec Lightwood
 Posted: May 20, 2016 | 6:43 am
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Shadowhunters didn't hunt alone, at least they weren't really supposed to, but there was no real rules against it specifically which was why Alec was out here, glamoured up carefully alone with his weapons and a backpack. There had been a very small blip on their radar that required quiet reconnaissance that Alec had volunteered for since he needed to go out anyway. It had been a very long night and Izzy had tried with all her heart to make them a good hearty dinner. It had ended up so bad that even Iz demanded that they get something to eat out.

That was where they were presented with a bit of a problem. Clary shouldn't be leaving the Institute, neither should her mundane friend and Alec had an awful feeling about leaving Jace alone with them, especially Clary. The idea made his chest feel tight and caused his teeth to clench, even though the 'why' of it was buried so deep he didn't want to admit it to himself. He knew he could trust Izzy to watch Jace, though he was less than happy with the attention Izzy was paying to the mundane, but someone needed to go and they all couldn't all go, so here Alec was.

Finding the demon wasn't hard, it was skulking in an alleyway by a couple of apartment buildings much too close to the mundanes. Pulling an arrow out of his quiver, Alec lined up a shot, usually Jace or Izzy would start a confrontation with something witty, but that wasn't Alec's strong suit so he settled for just shooting it. The demon jerked around in a way that Alec hadn't expected and the arrow went wide, barely grazing the thin, membranes looking skin that covered the creature. The blood that welled up to the skin seemed to glow a pale blueish gray as the creature turned toward Alec. This wasn't a demon that he'd ever encountered before, the mouth seemed melted together, red eyes glared at him from deep set eyes. Hauling back he kicking at the demon's chest, Alec was less than pleased when it's claw's wrapped around his booted ankle, trying to knock him off balance.

What in the name of the angel?

It seemed like every move he made was being read and guessed before he even made it. Frustrated, Alec tried to wrench himself out of it's grip, swinging around with his bow in an attempt to get himself free. Instead of the grip loosening, Alec found himself twisted around at the same time he tried to get free and the eldest Lightwood found himself flat-backed on the ground with most of the wind knocked out of him. Struggling to breathe as his bow clattered just out of reach. This was great, exactly how he needed this solo mission to go. Fingers flying to his belt, Alec wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his seraph blade and pulled it free without activating it. Feeling claws digging into his pant's leg, Alec punched out with the hilt, looking like he was going to use it as was. At the last second he muttered "Jegudiel." into the air, the blazing bright blade shooting from the hilt and going straight through the demon's throat. There was a faint gurgling sound as Alec jerked the blade out one side of the demon's neck, then back around to fully sever the head.

As the body fell away, Alec rolled over, putting his blade away and attempting to wipe the faintly bioluminescent blood off himself; but it was no use, it was everywhere. He could even feel it soaking into the neck of his teeshirt and growing tacky on his face. He was going to need a shower in order to get everything off. Behind him was the clattering sound of trash cans made Alec whip around in time to see another of the same demon running off. Bending down to retrieve his bow, Alec's attention was drawn to more movement at the end of the alley that held his attention. There was a mundane with groceries standing at the opening of the alley, looking right at him.

"Angel take it..."
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Rupert Giles
 Posted: Jun 1, 2016 | 12:06 pm
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We'll see it through.
It's what we're always here to do
So we will walk through the fire.
Whatever was happening at the other end of the alley, deep within the bowels of the shadows, it sounded like it was trouble. What he might have been able to pass off as two alley cats fighting in the darkness if he had kept walking, it was clear to him now that whatever was down there was larger than any feline he hoped to meet in a city. It made him pause, not out of fear or trepidation, but out of a realization that the only thing he had to arm himself with was fresh produce and an element of surprise that he might not be able to properly get a rein on before it was lost. Whatever was happening started dire, though, and he knew that every moment he dawdled was another moment lost. If he was going to get involved, then it need to happen now, so he steeled himself, and prepared to charge into the last bit of shadow that obscured the scene from him.

He was two paces into his charge when a shape burst from the darkness. The two of them collided, though Giles seemed to be more startled by it than it seemed to be of him. The collision meant that he got a very up-close and personal look at what it had been that came at him. Though the figure was tall, so was he, and he ended up being eye to eye with the creature… if it had “real” eyes to offer. Another important feature that he marked was the lack of mouth, and the impressively poor complexion of the beast, before it barreled through him, knocking him to the side. Where ever it was going, it wanted to get there fast, and it didn’t really care about what state it left a guy like Giles in while it went. Rupert could feel his head hit the brick wall hard enough to rattle his bones and clench his jaw. Oh look, a concussion. He knew that particular ringing is his ears, and the cotton wrapped around his brain. It was a wonder he wasn’t brain dead yet…

He must have bit his tongue, too, since he tasted the tang of copper in his mouth and a rush of pain along the muscle. He hissed lightly, an involuntary reaction as his hand reached for his lips. He realized in the hassle, he had dropped the groceries, and any hope of sparing anything that wasn’t in a package was lost when he saw the dirty puddle that they had fallen into. No, Rupert, don’t focus on the fruit. Focus on what you saw. Don’t get distracted… you saw… He knew that creature. Sunnydale. A few years back. From what he could remember, they were relatively rare beings. Oh, what the Hell were they called? The only thing that came to mind were “scabby demons,” but that couldn’t be it. It must be the concussion. What did he know about them…. As he head spun, he tried to focus on knowledge and ground himself. He knew he had already passed the wave that would tumble him into unconsciousness. Now, he needed to get through the wave that would induce nausea.

Buffy had been the one to call them “scabby demons,” and it was as good of a name as any. No mouths. No ears. Telepaths. That would explain why the demon had not been too surprised to find Giles there. Even if it weren’t actually looking for Rupert’s thoughts, a demon who uses it as his primary form of communication could glean at least surface thoughts against all except the most shielded of minds. It probably heard Giles thinking about cats, and knew exactly where Giles was. What else? Typical demonic strength and agility. They had given Buffy a bit of a problem, but they were taken care of in the end. And yes… “they.” They tended to hunt in pairs, silently, using that telepathy to their advantage. Pairs… oh, no…

The realization that there could be another one nearby shot Giles away from the wall, all danger of what another concussion might do to him flying out the window. Buffy could hold he own against these demons. Rupert could not. It did not suggest that he would retreat. He was just grossly unarmed, so he could not afford any more disadvantages. The universe had different plans, though, and when he shot from around the dumpster that he had ended up perched behind, another figure came out of his blind spot. He had enough time to see that it wasn’t another demon: young man, maybe early twenties, dark hair, clad in leather, before the two of them collided into each other. No.. no, stay on your feet, old man…

He managed, even it earned him a few sore limbs as he untangled himself from the mess the two of them had become. He turned and tried to keep going down the alleyway, trying to get his sights again on the demon that fled, and keeping an eye out for its partner. It was a sideways jog, though, since he kept looking back, trying to see what had happened to the other man. “Are you all right?” he shouted back, looking back only briefly to see if the man was seriously injured, before turning again to look for the demon.

Nothing…

He cursed under his breath. His path him took him to the end of the alley and back out into the sidewalk, but he doubted the demon went that way. They preferred to stick to the shadows, so there was a good chance that it had, rather, gone up. He turned, and his eyes darted up to the walls, looking for places where it could have climbed, or where it may still be lurking. He called back to the young man. There was a good change that this was an innocent being exposed to the supernatural for the first time, or something else, but he had no time to sit and explain anything if it was the case. The demon population in this city seemed to be well under control, so the fact that there were a pair of “scabby demon” hunting rather openly in the middle of the city wasn’t a very good sign. He needed information, and he was grossly without it. ”Did you see where it went? Did you see another?”

notes: nice to… meet you?
words: 1069| tag: alec, open
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Alec Lightwood
 Posted: Jun 28, 2016 | 2:28 am
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The acidic burn in Alec's mouth told him that some of the glowing blood had made it passed his lips, which immediately caused him to roll over. The headless corpse that was still covering the lower half of his body made the motion not quite as effective as it should have been; still Alec felt himself retch a few times, stomach churning as he spat onto the already filthy sidewalk. As much as Shadowhunter blood was very prized among Downworlders and demons, Demonic blood was poison for Shadowhunters, short exposure was enough to leave someone with the equivalent of mild chemical burns, prolonged could be more like acid burns.

As he spat the taste lessened, but the burn remained, lingering. Shaking his head, Alec hauled himself out from under the body and climbed to his feet, angry at himself for how disorganized he'd allowed this fight to become. There had been a second demon, he'd seen it out of the corner of his eye while he fought the other one. But as he looked around, searching even the entrances of rooftops, Alec saw no sign of where the other had gotten to; could have gotten any number of places.

Cursing under his breath, Alec collected his bow from where it had fallen and clipped his seraph blade back to his belt where it belonged as he looked up at the mundane that appeared to be looking in the same directions as he was. Meaning he'd seen the demon. Strange, but not uncommon, some lesser demons didn't have the same kind of camouflage as others. However it was a little less common that the man could also see Alec when he was covered in glamour runes to protect against this very thing. In the flurry of escape, the demon appeared to have knocked the mundane's groceries all over the ground, the knot of hunger in his own stomach felt a flash of sympathy, but at least it wasn't the mundane's head.

That would have been much worse.

"I saw it, though the better question is how did you see it?" he avoided for now the question about where it went, that wasn't a concern for most mundane's, meaning it wasn't any of this man's business for now. The burning on his skin where he hadn't been able to get off all the demon's blood was starting to get painful but the first thing that Alec pulled out of his pants pocket was his sensor rather than a stele. The small plastic object was about the size of a closed flip phone, but covered in runes with a crystal screen. Right now it pulsed calmly with the familiar blue-white of a whitchlight; if there were demons in the immediate visiting it would pulse red, meaning the demon was gone, at least far enough out of range that the sensor wasn't picking it up as an immediate threat, but that also the man standing before him was likely a mundane. Most Downworlders had better things to do than to interfere with a Shadowhunter engaging with a demon, often worried that they were going to attract the Shadowhunter's attention, Accords or not.

"Angel take it, you've got the Sight, don't you? You're a mundane with the Sight." Oh, anyone else would have been a lot better at this than he was, he thought as he pushed the sensor back deep into his pant's pocket where he'd feel it go off in case of emergency.

This was just great.

Wiping the rest of the demon blood off as best he could, Alec considered cursing again, but knew it would do no good. His skin was the bright red of a burn and starting to bubble a little in the places where it had laid thick the longest. This whole afternoon was just getting more and more inconvenient.

Mundanes, everything in his life lately was being overtaken by mundanes. Mundanes where he lived, now mundanes where he fought, mundanes that weren't really mundanes, mundanes stealing away his sister, his parabatai. He knew that his job was to protect mundanes because they couldn't do it themselves, he was fine with that, but nowhere in the Shadowhunter texts did it say that you had to deal with them this often. In fact, they strongly encouraged a low profile and not getting them involved in the Shadow World at all, which was a rule that Alec was behind 110%. It was a good way to make them targets and to make things even worse.

Taking a few steps to the side and starting to take his jacket off one shoulder as if the mundane wasn't even a concern, Alec put the building they were standing next to to his back before scanning the perimeter one more time as he pulled out his stele, he needed to put an iratze on himself before the aftereffects of the demon blood made him sick. His arm and, without the jacket helping to distract from it, his chest were covered in runes, some that had been used up were silvered, some still active or more permanent were pitch black.

"You should probably collect your things and go home, this is official Shadowhunter business." he told the man. If the other had the Sight he was old enough that this wasn't the first strange thing that he'd seen and that meant, whether the Clave was happy about it or not, he was likely involved with the Shadow World one way or another; or better yet just looking for an excuse to leave so that he could go home and explain this odd encounter away for himself.

While it would have been the best placement considering that was where the burns were, Alec couldn't rune his chest or neck without looking. This was where going out with a partner was preferable, Alec felt a pang of saddened annoyance that he was out here by himself while his siblings were caught up with the Fray girl and her pet mundane. Pushing those thoughts aside, Alec set the stele to the inside of his shoulder, as close to his chest that he could get while still being able to see, and carved the iratze there, face unflinching despite the slight scent of burning flesh. Maybe the rune would take care of the pounding headache he was starting to get in his head. He needed to try to go after that other demon, but he had no intel on where it might have gone and what was he supposed to do, wander all over the city until he found it? Besides he needed to get home, there was someone there who needed him.
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Rupert Giles
 Posted: Jul 13, 2016 | 4:06 pm
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We'll see it through.
It's what we're always here to do
So we will walk through the fire.
Oh, no. No no no. Rupert Edmund Giles had not room in his life for sass right now. He had lived too long, seen too much, and worked too hard to earn this kind of treatment from a Shadowhunter on a bad day. On many other days, Giles may have spent his time apologizing or at least trying to prove his sincerity and usefulness with a more polite, gentile, and (frankly) English nature. The last year… hell’s bells, the last decade… of his life had been spent to the point where he was beyond the morals and manners, at least for tonight. The fact that he dealt with the gang back in Sunnydale… the fact that he dealt with Ethan Rayne… He had enough sass in his lifetime to suffice until the day he died. Considering he had just lost his dinner all over the sidewalk, he was coolly finished.

The groceries were a lost cause. What wasn’t directly ruined by the gutter water that everything was bathing in was ruined by the unhygienic nature of the New York City streets. Giles spent a moment frowning at it all, before slowly looking back up at the young man. So, he was a Shadowhunter. Giles had rare occasion to meet one in person like this, and never when they were on a hunt. As a general rule, many of the places protected by Slayers did not need the Shadowhunters, so while in Sunnydale, they would have never need or come across one. Since it had been several decades since the last New York Slayer, Nikki Wood, had been around, it was no surprise that the Shadowhunters had moved in as the primary source of protection for the city.

Giles could not fight the clucking sound he made in the back of his throat with his tongue, his tell that he was annoyed and on the verge of just not giving any more damns. Shouting and yelling would do nothing for him, though, so he continued to let the cool annoyance flow over him like water. His eyes danced over the young man in the same calculating way that he scaled his enemies up during his Brixton days. The young man was covered with runes that would be mistaken for tattoos, but Giles knew better. He recognized many of the marks from a book that was once held in the building of the Watchers Council in London, now destroyed by the Harbingers of the First Evil. The runes were part of The Grey Book. Only the higher level students of the Council had been allowed to even look at it, since it was the only copy that the Council was permitted, and Giles’ eidetic memory had captured every one.

His calculated glance over the hunter also told him that he had open wounds. Smatterings of the demon’s blood were still all over his skin and clothing. The particularly concerning parts were the parts where the blood was near the wound, and even around the hunter’s mouth. Some of his irritation smoothed away at that. It wasn’t good, but maybe it was a lesson that the Shadowhunter deserved. He waited a moment, and watched some more, the hunter clearly paying him no mind after dismissing him. “Your iratze isn’t going to work,” he said after a time. He adjusted his glasses, the last mark that he was even remotely disheveled after the encounter with the demon. He spoke with authority and certainty, and he did not hesitate in his cadence. “Not if the demon blood got inside of you. An open wound. Your mouth.” He pointed to the places where he could still see the sticky sweet blood on his coat and face. He face suggested he was serious, but that was all. He would help, but there would need to be a change in how he was treated. Giles had no problems walking away from petulance if it served to teach a lesson, and one this young Shadowhunter desperately needed to learn.

“I remember that word. ‘Mundane.’ Several of your Clave members called me it when I contacted them about my instatement as Head of the Watchers Council a year ago. It came with a rather negative connotation that left me with the feeling that I was being looked down upon, a sentiment I did not appreciate.” His eyes were unyielding when he looked at the younger man. He knew the tone that had been used when he had been called it before. When they said “mundane,” they meant “lesser.” Like Hell Giles was going to be treated like that.

“My name is Rupert Giles, and since I’ve been hunting demons for twice as many years as you have been alive, I can easily say that you are going to need my help.” He crossed his arms over his chest. The young man was taller than him by about two inches, which was impressive considering Giles’ own considerable height. That did not keep him from flying a stern look that he had seen wither the likes of others of similar nature before. Now, chances were, since he was across from a Shadowhunter, and they were a more battle-hardened people, he would not get the same shrinking reaction, but Giles was at least being stern. Stern was taken seriously.

“Now, will you be introducing yourself?” Giles finished with, pointing out the lack of manners that this young man had already treated him with. As one last punctuation, he opted to end his point by driving home just how much he hated the word “mundane” and the inflection that came with it. “Or will I be calling you ‘boy’ for the rest of the evening?”

notes: I don’t think that Alec has ever met anyone like Giles, so I am excited to see what he does next!
words: 953| tag: alec, open

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Alec Lightwood
 Posted: Mar 5, 2017 | 7:04 pm
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As soon as the older man spoke again, Alec paused and turned back around, he hadn't expected him to still be there. He'd expected a mundane faced with a demon so closely would take any opportunity to run. But hearing that crisp accented voice call the rune by it's proper name, even with perfect pronunciation, Alec felt his stomach drop. Oh good, this wasn't just some mundane whom he'd shot his mouth off to, great. Wonderful. Just what today needed. Reaching up with his sleeve to wipe at the blood on his mouth, he'd known it was still there by the way that it burned like he'd been in the sun too long. There was a tightening in Alec's brow, he couldn't even tell for himself if he was nervous or pissed off at the way everything was unfolding. The second demon was gone, completely, he'd missed it. After Izzy just saying without saying less than a week ago that he couldn't handle going out all by himself. Now he'd proven her right.

Head of the Watchers Council...

Oh yay.

The Nephilim knew about the Watchers Council, the crew from the New York Institute heard parts from their parents, part from Hodge that they used to try to keep at least a working relationship with one another considering that they were working toward the same end. The Slayer, whoever she was at the time, usually went after vampires more often than demons, but their paths might cross from time to time. There was only one Slayer, but almost every major city had at least a handful of Shadowhunters, even dying out as they were; and better to have a working relationship than get one of their own or one of the Slayer's killed over a kind of turf war or misunderstanding.

How the Clave might have reacted to the appointment of a new leader... Well the Clave wasn't known to be very welcoming of change. Alec felt his stomach knot up, but he schooled up his features. The last thing he needed was to be a further embarrassment to his people in front of an emissary of esteemed group. Alec couldn't even say that he hadn't intended to offend him with use of the word 'mundane' because as far as he was concerned that as just the word for plain everyday mortals. Many Shadowhunters did look down on mundanes, a little like speaking with a child since they spent their whole lives trying to protect them, it was their purpose.

"So you know the demon that.. this demon? Have you dealt with one before?" Alec nudged the body at his feet with the toe of his boot, breaking his silence with the option for more information gathering. The more he knew about this demon, the easier it would be to track the one that had gotten away. The man's authoritative voice made the soldier in Alec want to fall into line, but the idea of falling in line to a mundane was one that was harder to wrap his mind around. He'd had so many mundanes lately that were just coming in and turning his whole life on it's head that it was almost getting hard to breathe. But it wasn't often that he'd had someone who wasn't one of his family members just put him in his place like this. At best Alec tended to be.. grumpy as Izzy put it, but it usually got people to leave him alone and stop talking to him. It was easier to keep secrets if you didn't need to talk to anyone. This wasn't going to be the case here, he actually needed the Watcher if he was going to complete his mission, meaning he needed to play nice-r. It was also made very clear that this Rupert Giles wasn't putting up with any young adult Shadowhunter attitude.

"There isn't much the Clave holds in any kind of esteem, I can't speak for them, but I doubt it was personal." He couldn't make excuses for their governing body because their wasn't any. The Clave was as the Clave had always been, they believed that the Law was hard, but it was the Law; then, now and forever. The Clave didn't even show loyalty to their own people with enough consistency to be counted upon. There was no guilt or innocence, there was only a severity of punishment. So while he couldn't bring himself to bend to the Watcher before him, Alec could treat him as an ally instead. If he had more information on the demon, then that was what Alec needed, and Angel knew that a Shadowhunter took any tactical advantage that they could find to get a leg up on the demons. And he'd been taught how to speak in Council meetings, he was old enough for them now, so that meant he needed to know how to behave.

"Alexander Lightwood of the New York Institute." he responded, he wasn't used to introducing himself, he didn't run into many people on his own, you didn't introduce yourself to mundane's you rescued and anyone who came to the Institute already knew who was supposed to be living there. Often when he met people it was in a group with Jace and Izzy and he was usually 'and that's Alec.' It saved him from having to do it. "Alec is fine, Mr. Giles." He didn't know if Council members had certain titles, but he was pretty sure he'd be corrected quickly if that were the case. Pulling out his phone, Alec sent a quick text to Izzy, knowing she would be able to drag herself away from her 'charge' easier than Jace would, letting them know that the mission was going to take longer than he thought and to have Taki's deliver.

"Now why did you say that an [i]iratzi[/i[ wasn't going to work? They heal nearly anything, though it might take a couple applications. It's just demon blood, it burns for a while, but as long as you get it off, there's no lasting damage."
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Rupert Giles
 Posted: May 3, 2017 | 12:25 pm
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We'll see it through.
It's what we're always here to do
So we will walk through the fire.
Giles regarded the young man across from him, relaxing, but not letting the aura of authority slide away just yet. He was not a fan of pressing this kind of attitude into the world. He didn’t like it when he father acted that way, nor any other superior member of the Council during his lifelong stay with the group. This Alec, however, seemed to respond to it, and it would be foolish and jarring to let it go now. Clearly, this was the role he needed to play right now. He accepted that. He accepted a lot when he stepped up to be the Head of the Council. He was more than just a teacher now.

“Yes,” Giles said with surety that lack hubris. “I faced one before with my Slayer, and on a Hellmouth.” He paused for a moment, remembering it being one of his less-than-shiny moments as a Watcher. Such a semi-common demon, and Giles could dig up no information on the fly about them back then. Buffy had taken to calling them “scabby demons” or some such nonsense in the wake of that, and the name had stuck. He was pained to remember that his research on these creatures had gone so poorly, he had needed to rely on a compendium with pictures, and his initial reading and translations had not been enough to save Buffy from the pain that the eventual telepathy caused. His teeth clenched together tightly at the memories. It had not been earth shattering, but it had still been a failure.

Alec spoke about the Clave, and Giles calmly raised a hand. “You don’t need to speak for them, but I know that they also do not, entirely speak for you.” He wasn’t going to be hard on someone just because of the authority that was held over them. He remembered being a young man under the thumb of strict, conservative rule. It had been one of the things that inspired him to run away. For all he knew, Lightwood was just as repressed, or even worse, as Rupert had been at his age. Of course, Lightwood could also be just as stuck up and arrogant as the Clave was, and being forced to be in a position where he had to play nice or risk problems between their two parties. He was smart with diplomacy, at least. “And right now, that is all we need to say about our factions. There is a demon lost in the big, bad city.”

He nodded at the name offered to him, remembering the surname of “Lightwood” among some of shared histories that the Council once held. For all their bluster, Shadowhunters seems like a rather tightly knit group of people. Surnames surviving this long, consistently, either meant integration, or sustainability through weak numbers. It was a strange burden for anyone to bear. He tried not to outwardly cringe at the sound of his own name with the title “Mister” in front of it. It made him feel old and like he should be cloistered away with his books to keep him from getting too broken. “And please. ‘Giles’ or ‘Rupert’ if we are going to be working with each other, Alec. I can’t…” He thought of coming up with an explanation for Alec, but what would a 20-something year old understand about a man pushing 60? Why would he care? He dismissed the rest of thought with a “I just can’t,” and a shrug.

The subject quickly turned back to the demon and the danger of it. Giles glanced down at the wound. The causticness of seeing the injury knit itself back up under the influence of the rune while the true danger still lurked under the skin was not lost to him. What would have happened if he had not been here? Giles did not need to look at the wound. The wound was not the problem. It was the blood. “Your runes will heal the injury quite nicely. It won’t even leave a scar, I imagine,” he said, not without a touch of irony. “But the demon’s blood got on it, didn’t it? It’s already inside of you, and not unlike a blood disease, it has probably already infected you.” He felt like a doctor giving bad news to a patient, and while he was used to being the one to deliver information that was not always stellar, he didn’t know how Alec would handle it.

They needed to move quickly, so while Alec deserved to know more about what was going on, they couldn’t stand still anymore. He started walking down the alley, looking for the trails of blood on the ground left behind by the… sigh… scabby demon, hoping that it would not heal before they were able to track it down. “The blood causes those infected with it to be ‘blessed’ with an aspect of the demon. When it happened to my Slayer, she was given the same telepathic ability that the demons have. At first, it was short range but eventually it covered the scope of the whole town.” Giles did not want to see, first hand, what it would be like to experience all the active thoughts of a city the size of New York.

“For her, it took almost a whole day to get that bad, but I do not know how it will react with your angelic blood, nor if it will have a different effect than what it had on a Slayer. All I know is how we managed to cure it before, which I suspect is the only way to help you, as well.” The trail took him in the direction the demon had fled, and while it was along the lines of a fire escape, it led them directly in line of the sidewalk. Giles paused, taking a moment to say the last of what he needed to say. “ We will need to render the heart of the same kind of demon down into a potion for you to drink... and I do not know if that will be in conflict with your Nephilim blood.” Buffy had taken the potion and had been fine, but, as it turned out, Slayer powers came from a compact made long ago to bind the Slayer’s body to a demon’s. It gave him pause, but in the end, that decision was also up to Alec. ”All I do know is that we should find that demon as soon as possible, if only to save more innocents from it. For all we know, the blood will have absolutely no effect on you, but we should be sure.”

words: 1110 | tag: alec
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