Oh well. He recognises Clary’s voice, anyway. So does Korol, who rises from the foot of Sturmhond’s bed and pads over to the door. Sturmhond follows, shooing him aside, and opening it to reveal - ]
It's Starbucks. [ She holds it aloft like a sacred thing, her grin wide and far too pleased. ] I got it off Dagger because I'm fucking awesome. And I remembered saying if I ever got to, I'd bring you Starbucks. So I'm sharing.
[ Bouncing on her feet a little. ] Also doughnuts. Can you really say no to all this?
Got him a stone carving of an angel on planet full of giant monsters. I totally hope he saw the irony.
[ An angel from an angel, or something like that. ] Take a sip, it's great, you won't regret it. [ She's more giddy than she should be, really. But there's something ultimately pleasing about being rewarded, about proving her worth. ] It tastes like home.
[ He does, and then looks startled. A rather accusing glance is shot
towards his kitchen area, where there’s instant coffee on open display, and
he peers at her cup. ]
If that’s what home tastes like, I’d like to visit. Here.
[ He offers it back with a smile, and then goes to drag a couple of
seats together. He drops down on one, and smiles at her. ]
Now, stone carvings. I don’t suppose there were any symbols on it, were
there?
I know, I know. [ She's talking about his expression, an understanding nod following as she takes the cup and cradles it almost lovingly. ] It's actual magic. It tastes like heaven.
[ She follows suit, her backpack getting dropped beside her as she holds the cup between her knees. ] I thought you'd ask that. [ Fishing through the stuff inside she pulls out a scrap of paper where she's drawn the carving. ] It looked like this.
[ Handing it over, Clary then gets the box of donuts open because fuck work. ] If you're going to talk business I'm going to eat a ton of sugar.
[ He looks bemused when she hands over the drawing. Has he somehow become known as a treasure hunter? Then he remembers that she always calls him a pirate, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes.
He takes it all the same, comparing it to the carving he and Barnaby had found in Sector R. He can’t tell Clary about that, though, so he just memorises the picture and offers it back. ]
You should keep that safe.
Any idea why Dagger wanted it? He seems to have rewarded you well, at any rate.
[ He hasn’t seen a doughnut before. They look vaguely pastry-like, but nothing like what comes from Ravka. Very interesting. ]
I've given up trying to guess what Dagger wants. He gets you to do something and you find out it's totally irrelevant and he just did it for fun. So I'm just going to wait and see.
[ She holds the box out to him with a smile. ] Take one, they're good. [ Brushing sugar off her fingers. ] And I know. It's weird. He gave me these and a photo of my mom and Luke and Simon. And a tarot card. [ She shrugs but it's clear they've pleased her in ways she can't word. ] I'm not used to him not wanting to kill me. I'm trying not to jinx it.
[ He reaches for one, promptly gets covered in sugar, and sets it
down to brush off his uniform. It’s really a good thing he hadn’t been
caught in Green Team’s glitter spray. He’d have been furious.
Not to worry, though, he’ll still talk while he’s preening. ]
They might not be as meaningless as he pretends. He may just not want to
tell you. But a photograph is nice.
What’s a tarot card?
[ With the sugar gone, he gets a plate from the kitchen for the
doughnut and takes a bite. After a moment, he stares at her. ]
[ She pulls out the card from inside her coat pocket. For some reason it seems to make her feel better. Maybe it's the similarity to the deck her mother painted, or that she's used to them. ]
People use them to read the future. I never really believed in it? But my mom painted a set like this for a witch who lived underneath us. They were beautiful. [ A small smile. ] This is fortitude. [ Passing it over. It shows a woman with her hand over the closed jaws of a lion. ] It means strength and overcoming adversity. Maybe Dagger wants to prove a point. I don't know. But I like it.
[ He reaches to take it. Artistically, it reminds him somewhat of religious paintings, especially the kind in books. As such he can’t say that he likes it, overly. The connotations are interesting, though. ]
I don’t believe a card can tell you who you are, Clary. Strength is something you decide to show, and I think you’ve proved you can do that already.
[ He offers the card back. ]
But if nothing else, it shows Dagger knows you. It can’t be coincidence he would give you something to remind you of your mother.
No. [ She's thoughtful for a moment. ] Do you want to see her?
[ The picture is also inside of her jacket and she holds it with more reverence than the tarot card, offering it out with a shy smile. It's of the last time they were at Luke's farm, a sprawling field behind the four figures. Clary's in the foreground next to a boy with thick black glasses and messy hair, both of them have their hands up behind each other's heads in a v-shape. Behind her is a man with wire rimmed glasses and lines of his face, one who's smiling despite how tired he looks. Next to that is a woman who looks just like Clary, only slimmer and more feminine, paint splattered dungarees doing nothing to take away how elegant she looks. ] That's my mom and Luke. He's an old family friend. And that's Simon. And me, obviously.
[ He softens a little, responding to her mood, and reaching to take the picture.
He can tell her mother immediately. They look like a tight-knit family, even though she's just told him they're not precisely that. Simon, not a brother but a friend. Luke, not her father but another friend.
But they look like a family. Or rather, they look like how a family should. ]
You look so like your mother. She's lovely.
[ He moves beside her, first handing the picture back, and then putting a gentle arm around her. ]
[ She leans into him almost automatically. ] I do. I miss them so much it hurts. But they're not here, you know. And I'm glad. I could miss them and know they're safe from this. Or I could have them and watch them suffer. I know which one I prefer.
[ At least back home they have some hope of fighting. Valentine may be terrible, but he is familiar. ] And I have this now. [ Thumb stroking over her mother's face. ] I can remember her smiling.
[ He's surprised. They haven't been here that long, at least not by his reckoning.
But then Sturmhond is a man who'd gone seven years without sight of his parents. The equivalent of a few months is tiny by comparison to that. ]
I agree with you, as it happens. It's better that they're not here. Better that you can protect them from afar than watch them struggle to contend with all of this.
[ That's how he's felt for years, and how he still feels. ]
It's a matter of keeping yourself strong for them. Dagger is showing you a kindness, I believe.
[ But he puts his hand on her shoulder, then, and squeezes it. ]
Keep your family close to your heart, but do not let anyone hold them over your head. Weakness is a guise, Clary. Wear it when they need to see you're human, but never when you feel it. Use that picture to stay strong. Don't let it do the opposite. Kindness is its own form of cruelty, from a different point of view.
[ She listens to him, her chin coming up to look at him as he speaks. For a moment she wants to argue with him, that feeling for someone can't possibly be a weakness. But then she remembers how Valentine had used both her and Jace's love against each other, how that had been his weapon. ]
You're right.
[ She folds the picture back into her jacket and straightens herself out. ] Pass me another doughnut. [ Because this is easier, pretending is easier. ] Also, the coffee's getting cold. You want more?
[ He squeezes her shoulder again, and then nods as she collects herself. There’s part of him that regrets this, that regrets telling her to harden her heart or create a pretence. He’s teaching her to fold parts of herself away and cover them with a veneer, and he knows, personally, how hard that can be. How it can change a person, how it can make it difficult to let their feelings matter even when they want them to.
But it’s needed, that’s the truth. He has needed to do that all his life, and so does she, if she’s going to come out of this place whole and in tact. It may not be nice, but it’s self-preservation.
So he doesn’t take any of it back. He lifts the doughnut box and brings it over to her, holding it out. ]
You drink the coffee. It’s your reward, but you were kind to share.
[ He gives her arm a little rub, very gently, and then lets her go. ]
[ She wants to savour it simply because it's been a long time since she last had coffee like this. But it's no good when it's cold and so she takes a long sip and grabs a doughnut, smiling at him when he rubs her arm. ]
I'm fine. Don't be weird. [ Because she knows he hates being emotional and as much as she's touched by it, she doesn't want him to have to emote. ] Eat a doughnut. What have you been up to lately? Any camp gossip I need to know about?
And, actually, there's plenty he could tell her. The last few days have been hectic. More than hectic.
But he's gag-ordered, so he can't. And in all fairness, he probably wouldn't, anyway. She doesn't need to know about the Scourges. Doesn't need to know about any of it. ]
I'm the wrong person to ask, actually. I've been on an errand the past couple of days. You'd know more about camp than I would, why don't you tell me?
[ But he pauses, and then after a moment lifts his eyebrow at
her. ]
Though, generally, at times like that, I’m too busy being bored out of my
mind. The last time I had a spell like that, I invented the
Hummingbird. I find it’s best to keep busy.
My first. Not that I have the materials to do that here, of course. If I did, I would have - long ago. But still, that's the sort of invention you're risking.
[ Her smile is bright and vivid and curious immediately, her arm moving to knock against his. ]
Seriously, an airship? God, you're like a superhero or something. [ Like that one about the billionaire who made a metal suit for kicks and justice. That's what he's like. ] Is there anything you can't do?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
DAY 33 CAUSE I TOLD YOU WRONG
Oh well. He recognises Clary’s voice, anyway. So does Korol, who rises from the foot of Sturmhond’s bed and pads over to the door. Sturmhond follows, shooing him aside, and opening it to reveal - ]
What is that?
[ His eyebrow lifts. ]
And where did you get it?
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[ Bouncing on her feet a little. ] Also doughnuts. Can you really say no to all this?
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[ He gives her a smile that has nothing to do with the coffee. ]
That's more like it. Come in, Clary. And let me see that.
[ He reaches for the cup. The doughnuts look interesting too, but he's quite the fan of caffeine by now. ]
What did you have to do for it?
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[ An angel from an angel, or something like that. ] Take a sip, it's great, you won't regret it. [ She's more giddy than she should be, really. But there's something ultimately pleasing about being rewarded, about proving her worth. ] It tastes like home.
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[ He does, and then looks startled. A rather accusing glance is shot towards his kitchen area, where there’s instant coffee on open display, and he peers at her cup. ]
If that’s what home tastes like, I’d like to visit. Here.
[ He offers it back with a smile, and then goes to drag a couple of seats together. He drops down on one, and smiles at her. ]
Now, stone carvings. I don’t suppose there were any symbols on it, were there?
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[ She follows suit, her backpack getting dropped beside her as she holds the cup between her knees. ] I thought you'd ask that. [ Fishing through the stuff inside she pulls out a scrap of paper where she's drawn the carving. ] It looked like this.
[ Handing it over, Clary then gets the box of donuts open because fuck work. ] If you're going to talk business I'm going to eat a ton of sugar.
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He takes it all the same, comparing it to the carving he and Barnaby had found in Sector R. He can’t tell Clary about that, though, so he just memorises the picture and offers it back. ]
You should keep that safe.
Any idea why Dagger wanted it? He seems to have rewarded you well, at any rate.
[ He hasn’t seen a doughnut before. They look vaguely pastry-like, but nothing like what comes from Ravka. Very interesting. ]
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[ She holds the box out to him with a smile. ] Take one, they're good. [ Brushing sugar off her fingers. ] And I know. It's weird. He gave me these and a photo of my mom and Luke and Simon. And a tarot card. [ She shrugs but it's clear they've pleased her in ways she can't word. ] I'm not used to him not wanting to kill me. I'm trying not to jinx it.
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If you say so.
[ He reaches for one, promptly gets covered in sugar, and sets it down to brush off his uniform. It’s really a good thing he hadn’t been caught in Green Team’s glitter spray. He’d have been furious.
Not to worry, though, he’ll still talk while he’s preening. ]
They might not be as meaningless as he pretends. He may just not want to tell you. But a photograph is nice.
What’s a tarot card?
[ With the sugar gone, he gets a plate from the kitchen for the doughnut and takes a bite. After a moment, he stares at her. ]
All right. I’ll grant you, these aren’t bad.
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People use them to read the future. I never really believed in it? But my mom painted a set like this for a witch who lived underneath us. They were beautiful. [ A small smile. ] This is fortitude. [ Passing it over. It shows a woman with her hand over the closed jaws of a lion. ] It means strength and overcoming adversity. Maybe Dagger wants to prove a point. I don't know. But I like it.
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I don’t believe a card can tell you who you are, Clary. Strength is something you decide to show, and I think you’ve proved you can do that already.
[ He offers the card back. ]
But if nothing else, it shows Dagger knows you. It can’t be coincidence he would give you something to remind you of your mother.
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[ The picture is also inside of her jacket and she holds it with more reverence than the tarot card, offering it out with a shy smile. It's of the last time they were at Luke's farm, a sprawling field behind the four figures. Clary's in the foreground next to a boy with thick black glasses and messy hair, both of them have their hands up behind each other's heads in a v-shape. Behind her is a man with wire rimmed glasses and lines of his face, one who's smiling despite how tired he looks. Next to that is a woman who looks just like Clary, only slimmer and more feminine, paint splattered dungarees doing nothing to take away how elegant she looks. ] That's my mom and Luke. He's an old family friend. And that's Simon. And me, obviously.
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He can tell her mother immediately. They look like a tight-knit family, even though she's just told him they're not precisely that. Simon, not a brother but a friend. Luke, not her father but another friend.
But they look like a family. Or rather, they look like how a family should. ]
You look so like your mother. She's lovely.
[ He moves beside her, first handing the picture back, and then putting a gentle arm around her. ]
You must miss them, Clary.
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[ At least back home they have some hope of fighting. Valentine may be terrible, but he is familiar. ] And I have this now. [ Thumb stroking over her mother's face. ] I can remember her smiling.
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[ He's surprised. They haven't been here that long, at least not by his reckoning.
But then Sturmhond is a man who'd gone seven years without sight of his parents. The equivalent of a few months is tiny by comparison to that. ]
I agree with you, as it happens. It's better that they're not here. Better that you can protect them from afar than watch them struggle to contend with all of this.
[ That's how he's felt for years, and how he still feels. ]
It's a matter of keeping yourself strong for them. Dagger is showing you a kindness, I believe.
[ But he puts his hand on her shoulder, then, and squeezes it. ]
Keep your family close to your heart, but do not let anyone hold them over your head. Weakness is a guise, Clary. Wear it when they need to see you're human, but never when you feel it. Use that picture to stay strong. Don't let it do the opposite. Kindness is its own form of cruelty, from a different point of view.
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You're right.
[ She folds the picture back into her jacket and straightens herself out. ] Pass me another doughnut. [ Because this is easier, pretending is easier. ] Also, the coffee's getting cold. You want more?
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But it’s needed, that’s the truth. He has needed to do that all his life, and so does she, if she’s going to come out of this place whole and in tact. It may not be nice, but it’s self-preservation.
So he doesn’t take any of it back. He lifts the doughnut box and brings it over to her, holding it out. ]
You drink the coffee. It’s your reward, but you were kind to share.
[ He gives her arm a little rub, very gently, and then lets her go. ]
Thank you.
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I'm fine. Don't be weird. [ Because she knows he hates being emotional and as much as she's touched by it, she doesn't want him to have to emote. ] Eat a doughnut. What have you been up to lately? Any camp gossip I need to know about?
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And, actually, there's plenty he could tell her. The last few days have been hectic. More than hectic.
But he's gag-ordered, so he can't. And in all fairness, he probably wouldn't, anyway. She doesn't need to know about the Scourges. Doesn't need to know about any of it. ]
I'm the wrong person to ask, actually. I've been on an errand the past couple of days. You'd know more about camp than I would, why don't you tell me?
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I've not noticed much. I mean whenever there's no real horrible drama it's kind of easy to just not go anywhere.
[ Like sleep. She misses sleeping in long enough that her mom would have to come fetch her. ]
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I suppose you’re right.
[ But he pauses, and then after a moment lifts his eyebrow at her. ]
Though, generally, at times like that, I’m too busy being bored out of my mind. The last time I had a spell like that, I invented the Hummingbird. I find it’s best to keep busy.
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[ Who knows. Maybe he does mean a tiny flittering bird. It's Sturmhond. ]
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[ The ghost of a smile. ]
My first. Not that I have the materials to do that here, of course. If I did, I would have - long ago. But still, that's the sort of invention you're risking.
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Seriously, an airship? God, you're like a superhero or something. [ Like that one about the billionaire who made a metal suit for kicks and justice. That's what he's like. ] Is there anything you can't do?
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[ Sturmhond sighs, his expression as thoughtful as though he’s taking that question entirely seriously. ]
My poetry’s somewhat lacking. One might even say unfortunate. A great shame. I’d prove it to you, but I’m afraid I burned the evidence in that case.
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