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  It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day Leonidas & Serafina • 20.02.2010 • Ca. 16 Uhr • Leonidas' Räumlichkeiten
<g12>Serafina Rossi</g12>
years old - -
Posted on:  12.08.2022, 12:16 - Wörter: -

It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day
   Gast   Gast
am 20.02.2010






On days like these, the young Shadowhunter couldn't deal with the world or herself. If she was being completely honest with herself, she felt like crap. That lump of ice she thought she felt in her stomach for days, whenever her thoughts drifted to her potential transfer and that all-destroying hope. That hope, which she had already given up on a few years ago and replaced it with a thirst and longing for revenge. After all, that thirst had helped her pull her head out of her ass and pull herself together as best she could. By her standards, at least. However, it did something to someone when one gave in to those feelings. A crack in her happiness, which she had never been able to fix.
In fact, she was scared shitless when she had stepped through the portal that morning. Rarely had she been as excited as she was at the moment that she realized she would soon face her feelings once again. In fact, no one had said anything about a name, but how often were Shadowhunters disappearing and then reappearing at the New York City Institute, huh? If it really was someone other than her childhood friend, this institute had some serious organizational issues. Sera was afraid of being disappointed. The burgeoning hope stretched their little head out of the muck into which she had stomped it before. This fear that she was facing was worse than hearing again that Leonidas was dead. She already knew that, had come to terms with it and processed it. At least she thought so. In truth, however, she wasn't so sure she ever had.

Taking a deep breath, she walked through the long corridors of the Institute. Surprisingly fast and unnerving, she felt her heartbeat in her chest. Like the rapid wing beats of a frightened bird. Room number... Room number... At the end of the corridor to the right and then the second room to the left, she remembered the directions she had been given. She had kept her introductions short and to the point, and no one here had to know about her actual motives for the transfer. The sound of her footsteps was swallowed by the carpet in the hallway. Instead, she was sure that her racing heart could be heard all the way to the next corner. At any rate, she heard only the roaring of her blood pumping in her ears.
Before the last bend, she stopped. The door of the second room to the left was open, as she could guess from her position. What would she do if it was someone else? She didn't know what to feel. What she would feel. Not to mention what if he was actually alive. He had not returned to Idris or Rome, nor had she received a message from him. For a few heartbeats, she stared at the open door. She could feel the warmth on the back of her neck, and a light dampness spreading over her skin. Excitement hit her like a freight train. A trained Shadowhunter would have been able to notice her footsteps despite the carpet. He would know she was around the corner and hesitated. Her thoughts raced as fast as her heart pounded. Then, finally, she straightened her shoulders. She stopped fumbling with the sleeve ends of her brown leather jacket-something she'd just noticed-and strode toward the second room.

Hunched over a pile of papers at the desk, a male figure with dark brown hair sat in front of her. Relax, it's not so uncommon, after all. But somehow she thought she knew. There it was again, that muddled hope rearing its head, unasked. Unwanted. All she could do was stare at him. For a moment she considered knocking - but since she was already standing in the middle of the doorway, staring silently at him, the opportune moment to do so had passed, anyway. Sera opened her mouth. All sorts of sentences from a casual Hello, stranger to a relieved Holy shit, you're alive! I'm so glad! to a pissed off I can't believe you didn't tell me you were alive, you ass! flashed through her mind. Before she could say anything, he was already raising his head.
All sorts of feelings just crashed onto her like a tidal wave, and the lump of ice in her stomach seemed to have risen to her throat. Where was her wit when she needed it? "You look surprisingly good for a dead guy", she finally managed to say. It was obvious from her face that she was pissed and hurt. But the telltale watery eyes suggested relief and bottomless joy. Not that she would rub it in his face. After all, she hadn't yet decided whether to beat him up or hug him. Sera kept the gaze of her blue marbles fixed on the young man she had once known. Searching for a spark of emotion in his features before she continued, "Pretty brave not to let me know. Are you hiding out here in New York City because you were afraid I'd beat the shit out of you?" Her tone was teasing, but an underlying threat still resonated in it.









written by
<g12>Leonidas di Angelo</g12>
years old - -
Posted on:  12.08.2022, 13:11 - Wörter: -

It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day
   Gast   Gast
am 20.02.2010




White as snow, slightly coarser structures that stood out, fine lines that twisted like scars across the entire length and width, merging into one another, only to branch out later in a never-ending network of roots. He had been staring at the top paper for a while, had occasionally uncapped the fountain pen and raised it above the surface, only to lower and close it again after a few moments. A painter, conscious of his duty to wield the brush and immortalise the nobleman's portrait on a canvas, but unable to find the right colour, the right tool or even the first approach, although the person posed impatiently with a fixed mine and a piercing impatience in his eyes, which dug deep into the artist's insides and silently urged him on, even reproached him for not having wasted the florins in vain. This was exactly what was reflected in him, he did not know how to begin. Everything that came to his mind seemed far too trivial, too small, too inappropriate, not correct. Over and over again, in the course of the last few days since his arrival at the Institute, he had sat down in front of this very desk, lost in thought like a poet trying to compose a poem that reflected the events and his emotions even in the slightest way, in which everyone could empathise and yet still offered room for interpretation and mystery, yet the subject stood out clearly from the rest so that it jumped out at you. No, any wording was not worthy of her, not worth the paper and ink.

Despite the wandering, twisting and tangling of his thoughts for the right words, he almost sensed the presence of another person. Not directly in his room at first, but close by. If at first it was like a slight tingling on his skin, within a few seconds it swelled to a slight straining of the hairs on the back of his neck and the inescapable feeling of being watched. Through his time under observation, constant fear of a surprise attack and the utter uselessness of his eyes in the deepest recesses of the bunker room, he had been forced to call home, he had become more alert, more suspicious and more alarmed. He had learned to rely not only on his eyesight, but also on his other senses as well as his gut feeling. A slight, barely existent scent from the sudden light breeze clearly increased his alertness and at the same time his alarm. As if by automatism, one hand had already wandered unnoticed to one of his chakrams at his side and wrapped itself around its handle. However, it remained there for a few precious seconds - which he would later scold himself for wasting - while the components of the scent triggered something strange in him. Was it almost a rigidity and at the same time a realisation that struck him like a bolt of lightning. Vanilla... Lilac...

His eyes glazed slightly, showing for a moment the innermost part of his soul, which could hardly decide between disbelief, unanswered questions, gratitude and infinite joy, a heartbeat, less, before they closed abruptly and a kind of distant coolness entered the green of his eyes as soon as he had turned to her. There she stood, older, more grown-up, also more alert, at the same time hurt and extremely angry. The one caused by time, the other ... also and the component from the mistake on his part, the Atlas task he was sitting in front of. With stoic calmness he accepted her words like gifts laced with small fine blades that sank unnoticed lightly into his skin. Slowly, he rose from his seat, while she immediately followed with the next spell, which could also be taken as a threat. "I'm glad to see you again too, Sera", the words were calm as was his posture, which however still possessed that certain streak of alertness and readiness to put his hand to his weapon again at any moment, which was now part of his character. Without further hesitation he took a step in her direction, his eyes still fixed on her, almost probing. "Then I would have looked for a better hiding place than the Institute," he admitted frankly, while his heart again played the same trick it had done when he met Lydia again, quickening and throbbing in his throat. "But to answer your question, no, I am not hiding. I never have and I never will", at this he gestured slightly with his head towards his desk, which contained the still blank papers and the locked fountain pen right next to it, as well as a cup of coffee, as if this was the answer. Next to it, on a small sideboard, stood an espresso machine that would make any frahling lover's heart swell. Other than himself, there was no touch of his personality in the room. Everything was as any shadowhunter living in New York could get it. His clothes as well as his guitar were stored in the wardrobe behind closed doors, the weapons on his person. Now he stood almost directly in front of her, a respectful arm's length away, unable to judge whether she would carry out her threat. But he could not blame her for doing so and he could not blame her at all. "Neither did I claim to be dead. And if you want to make your threat come true...", he briefly raised his arms almost in and out, "... go ahead..."










written by
<g12>Serafina Rossi</g12>
years old - -
Posted on:  12.08.2022, 14:52 - Wörter: -

It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day
   Gast   Gast
am 20.02.2010




Due to the damned water in her eyes, Sera was not bothered by the insight into the feelings of her counterpart, which presented itself to her for only a few fractions of a second. What would she have done with that knowledge, if she had seen that a large part of her emotions were reflected in the green marbles of her vis-à-vis? Possibly she would have felt understood, or even relieved that he was well enough to feel such things. Sera had not the slightest idea of what had happened to Leonidas during the years in which he had first been presumed missing and then dead. In fact, she avoided imagining all the possible scenarios, but it wasn't as if she hadn't done so occasionally over the years. Lying awake for nights on end, staring holes in the ceiling and, at the same time, frustrated and beside herself. Nothing good had come from it, except dark circles under her eyes and a growing sense of resentment. His eyes denied her a glimpse into his soul where hers did the opposite, with nothing she could do about it. The distance in his gaze and the tense posture he presented to her, although he must have recognized her, hurt her. At the same time, it pissed her off, though she couldn't quite pin down the reason why.

Although her attention was on his face, the subtle movements of his arm muscles did not escape her. He had heard her coming. Of course he had. But he hadn't really expected her, either. At least he was not holding the weapon - whatever it might have been that he had hidden behind his desk - in his hands when he rose from his chair.
Those words that slipped out of her mouth sounded harsh and accusatory. Above all, they hinted at how hurt and angry she was. A message that Leonidas seemed to understand. Yes, this is what bottomless joy looks like, isn't it?, she thought hissing, pressing her lips together, her face a picture of bitterness. ‘Sera.’ Almost everyone called her that. With her long name, it was no surprise. It was nothing special. But it had been far too long since she had heard her name come out of his mouth. Not like it used to be; now it sounded deeper. Calmer. With a hint of distance that pained her. What had happened to the humorous, sensitive boy she had known then and loved like a brother? The young man before her merely looked like him. Grown-up, cautious. A Shadowhunter through and through. As he stepped toward her, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The throbbing of the chunk of ice in her stomach now stretched from her neck to her abdomen. Barely noticeable, her body tensed up. What was left of the Leonidas she had known? “Good”, she then sneered at his words. “After all, we both know you've always sucked at playing hide and seek.” Flippancy had always been her go-to self-defense mechanism. By. The. Angels. Sera, just shut the fuck up. But it was already too late, because her tongue had always been looser and faster than her brain could handle. Under the influence of alcohol, she was absolutely erratic.

At the gentle nod of his head, her jaw muscles twitched tensely. Was he about to tell her that he had been about to write her a message? Somehow, she was happy to hear that. Then again, it had been over a week since he had found his way back to the living. Looking at it like that, a week was a bit too long to write a message, and she feared she would be brooding over that thought for quite some time in the future. The soft smell of coffee rose to her nose, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on Leonidas, who was now merely an arms length away.
His words made her angry. Was he giving her a free pass? Seriously? Not even an apology? No explanation? Sera began to shake with anger and tension as he raised his arms. “How can you be such a cold-hearted, stupid asshole!”, she hissed, but at the same time she was interrupted by a sob making its way up her throat, and her friend's handsome face blurred into something that could have easily been hung in a modern art museum, no thanks to her tears. “How can you be so... So...”, she stammered eloquently as ever, raising her arm and clenching her hand into a fist before closing the distance between them. Instead of punching him, she fell around his neck and buried her face at his collarbone. Her right hand cupped the back of his neck, desperately digging into his hair, while the other clung to his clothes as if she feared he would disappear again if she so much as loosened her grip. Still trembling, her body suddenly felt as if she had walked for weeks without rest to find him. Sera did not allow herself to let go completely. She sobbed softly, and tears ran down her cheeks, but otherwise she remained silent. “I missed you”, she admitted, mumbling against his neck and collarbone before following up with, “You jerk.” Much like before when they were children, she found it hard to be open about these kinds of things. Feelings. Being mean was something she could do effortlessly, but openness and vulnerability were things she had turned away and retreated from.
Once she was sure he wouldn't vanish into thin air if she let go of him, she took a step backward, a little embarrassed. Forcing herself to be nonchalant in order to virtually undo her emotional outburst, she placed a hand on the back of her neck as the blue marbles now took the moment to figure out where the familiar, tempting scent was coming from. She located its source on a small sideboard. Sera pursed her lips, unsure of what to say, before clearing her throat. “Someone knows how to make my heart flutter.” Smooth, you absolute fucking genius. As if it wasn't obvious, she nodded towards the coffee machine. “Is this a part of the basic equipment? Because I don't have one of those in my room.” Not waiting for an invitation, she walked past him and settled into a chair on the other side of the desk. The skin on the back of her neck tingled with excitement, and she quickly wiped her fingers inconspicuously under her eyes. “I hope you know that just because I'm not going to give you one now doesn't mean you won't still get a beating from me later.” She finally lifted her head and sought his gaze again. “But a free ride like that without the slightest challenge just isn't my thing.”









written by
<g12>Leonidas di Angelo</g12>
years old - -
Posted on:  13.08.2022, 10:14 - Wörter: -

It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day
   Gast   Gast
am 20.02.2010




While he himself had been in captivity, the world around him had changed, had progressed. Everyone he had known had gone their own way. Different places, different institutes, everyone busy with his own education - and yet... one knew, knew that the other was probably up and that one would meet again, one day. All the more it pulled the rug out from under one's feet when one learned exactly the opposite of the assumption one had almost made relatively carefree in her metier. What it might have been like for them to learn of his disappearance, he could not imagine, he could not imagine. He had not had to experience such losses with the angels... one might think. But it meant not only pain and sorrow for them, but also for him. How often had he imagined being with them again? With his family. His friends. Back at the Institute, either in New York or even back in Rome, bella Italia. He was driven by the thought of being obsessively who he used to be, even though he knew he would never be himself again. Not after all he had experienced on a daily basis. Nevertheless, one thing had always been clear to him - he would return. To make this possible, he had taken a lot on himself, not only physically, but also psychologically, but it had been worth it, every single second, every single agony, every single terror.

Now to stand in front of her again, in front of his best childhood friend, the feeling was simply overwhelming. He had learned to suppress his emotions, but that didn't mean he didn't have any. It was just that they did not float on the surface like lily pads and open up in their radiant colorfulness to others like the sun. Would he ever be able to show them openly again? That would remain to be seen, his intentions in this regard were still a mystery even for him. He would only devote himself to such thoughts later, it was still too early for that. His priorities were set differently, as one could guess from his frequent visits to the training room. Nevertheless, he had spent the last few days thinking of his family and friends in Rome. But his eloquence in writing was not the best, so no one there had been informed about his return. He had asked Lydia to keep quiet, he wanted to do this himself. However... Somehow Serafina must have got hold of the information. Even if he had not exactly greeted her with excessive Italian cordiality, he was absolutely not averse to her presence. Nevertheless, he had not expected her to appear, which the grip on his weapons in the usual automatism for the ignorant seemed to make clear once again. A false image that would be maintained until he could bring himself to speak the unimaginable. When would he be ready? That was written in the stars.

He almost stopped, the uneasiness was literally written all over her face. Her tense posture, the slight shiver that made her skin twitch briefly, and the blue eyes that bored into him. But he decided against it, continued to bridge the distance between them as a sign, he didn't want to push her away, he wanted her to stay. Her whole manner... the snappish, stubborn stubbornness she still was, yet he could guess she had changed as much as he had. Not too obvious for him at this moment, but time changed everyone. He was almost snorting. "Or you in looking, so I always picked the obvious hiding places so you'd have any chance of finding me," he retorted unabashedly with a click of his tongue, his eyebrows rising in sync. There was a brief moment when the old Leonidas returned before it instantly disappeared again.
He studied her expression with interest as she followed his nod towards the desk. Tense jaw - not good. Her anger was more than evident, even for what could be described as an emotion-legasthenic. Not showing emotions oneself did not mean not being able to recognize and classify them at the same time. He waited tensely, allowing her time to recognize his motives, before he gave her every chance to vent her frustration on him here and now. He would probably fight back after a while out of old habit, but a few seconds of completely free action were certain for her. Disbelief and a certain disquiet flashed in his eyes as she hurled these insults in his face, which hit him like a hammer blow. Almost at the same moment, her sobs nearly broke his heart, while tears ran down her cheeks. For a moment he was completely perplexed. He had not experienced such emotional outbursts from another person lately. Not even paying attention to her clenched fists, he stared at her with a racing heart that made even the roaring engines of racing cars seem slow. Her weight against him and her hands, which sought their way like tendrils on a trunk, only allowed him to regain his composure. The trembling of her body against his was like a quake with the highest values on the Richter scale, which was in complete contrast to the soft scent of her perfume, which filled his airways as inevitably as some of her hair filled his field of vision. He paused for less than a heartbeat before his arms wrapped around her. Gently, one hand rested on the lower part of her shoulder blades, yet at a sufficient, respectful distance from her hip, the other held the back of her head, weaving lightly into her hair, two or three fingers gently tracing circles to calm her. His throat tightened, so he could say nothing in response to her sobs. Only a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth at the insult she had to explicitly include at the end.
As soon as she had dried her tears on his now partially wet shirt, she could simply pull back, he perceived her silent signal to do so and loosened his embrace. Where her gaze now wandered, he could guess. Coffee machines, especially espresso machines, had a magical attraction for Italians. He watched her calmly until she indirectly expressed her wish, sprinkled with more words. As if he was air, she strutted formally past him and settled down on the other side of the desk on the chair provided. Pressing his lips together briefly and rubbing them together as if he had to spread lip balm, he stifled a broad grin. How did she manage that? To just show up here, hurl insults at him, break down at the same time, only to resume the conversation calmly and throw him off the track like that! "I'll manage," he played the ball back, having felt her heartbeat pounding against his chest as they embraced. Almost too self-confidently, he now gave her a slightly lopsidedly raised corner of his mouth, his hands briefly sinking into his trouser pockets before he brought them out again and began to move slowly, almost provocatively. "No, I got it myself," he answered her question, pressing new coffee powder evenly into the device with practiced and purposeful movements. "I'm looking forward to that." With another metallic click of the machine, the portafilter clicked into place, while with his other hand he conjured a fresh sparkling cup from a drawer and placed it underneath. Hissing and grumbling was the response of the most important appliance in the room. "I'll give you a hint," he said before pulling out the cup of dark, steaming liquid. Over the steam, he looked her straight in the eye. "Always make nice with the one who brews the good coffee", with a slight wink he put the cup down in front of her before sinking back into his chair, pushing the leaves aside. "Since when are you here and no longer in Rome? You wanted to finish your education there." This was his state of knowledge, but he could already guess the answer. Because of him... "So what is your plan now?"










written by
<g12>Serafina Rossi</g12>
years old - -
Posted on:  13.08.2022, 13:43 - Wörter: -

It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day
   Gast   Gast
am 20.02.2010




Being able to catch a glimpse of the boy she thought she’d lost a long time ago, did something to her. For a moment, she felt like she could feel her conscious retreat into the back of her head and instead let the little girl take over who she had once been. Back then it had been much easier. Simply being children, and your biggest worry being if you offended your friends by saying you liked the color green more than blue, or that you’d prefer chocolate ice cream with your waffles, rather than vanilla. They could just be themselves, gently teasing each other. As for Leonidas and her, they could just be friends. Or, as it was to her, something more like siblings. Laughing, smiling, messing around. Just like he was now, dishing her own pettiness right back at her. Curiosity and hope were starting to bud within her. A gentle smile was tugging on the corner of her mouth. Or you can just lay things out as they suit you best, I guess. In this very moment, even though he was standing right in front of her, she missed him dearly.

Of course, she was bothered by the way he was looking at her. Observant, seemingly taking in every bit of emotion that showed on her face. Never in her life had she been able to hide what she was thinking, even less what she was feeling. Emotions were constantly written all over her face, when she wasn’t waltzing around with a resting-bitch-face, as people liked to call it. Over the years that his disappearance had stripped her of her joy and willingness to let people in, it almost seemed to have plastered itself on her face, as if it belonged there. A facial expression that always made her seem way more aloof and conceited than she really was. In actuality she just wanted to be accepted, by kids her own age as well as the adults, who’d always criticize her for her childish behavior and inability to control her emotions. Worst of them being anger. Up to this day she was having the hardest time keep it in check.
Maybe if Leonidas hadn’t disappeared back then, and she’d have had the possibility to go and meet him from time to time, she wouldn’t have turned out this way. Not this angry, not this unsatisfied with herself. Eager to prove herself and her worth as a Shadowhunter to others. Perhaps all she had needed in these situations would’ve been a hug just like the one she got right that moment. A chance to just feel like someone’s got her, different from the embrace of her mother, with whom it would always feel as if she had to do it. Since she was her daughter and all. His embrace felt like salvation, even if when not looking at it in that moment, it might’ve sounded a little dramatic. The feeling of his hair brushing her fingers, the cloth of his shirt in her clenched-up hand. His breath grazing her hair and ear. Even his smell, that felt different yet the same as back then. It was weird.

Somewhat flustered, she put on her big-girl-façade and made her way past her childhood bestfriend where she sat down in his chair as if they hadn’t just reunited after her thinking, he’d been dead for the past 6 years. Almost as if they’d never been separated in the first place. After fixing the little bit of eye make up that her little emotional outburst might’ve ruined, she gathered up the courage to look straight at him. Just in time to see him pressing his lips together. Hold on, was that a smile that he was trying to hide? Sera narrowed her eyes in suspicion. At least he had his wits with him. Looking him up and down, she almost missed the way he was smirking at her. This brat. Slowly, as if she had to control herself not to jump right at his throat, she inhaled. Forcing herself to keep her cool, she shot him a taunting look. “Someone got cocky”, she assessed with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Apparently, that was his own coffee machine. What a bummer. Before she could comment on the machine, he already moved on to her next statement. Sera bit her tongue, keeping herself from complimenting the quality of the device and his good eye for it. He didn’t deserve it. “You’re on.” Then, she smiled at him sweetly. He just presented her a reason to bother him more often from now on. Be it for coffee or a surprise beating. Either way, they’d see each other more often from now on. Her insides were all twisted and fluttery because of all that happiness. Almost to an extent where it was getting on her nerves. As they were both waiting on the bean broth to brew, she took the opportunity to actually look at him. The way his shoulders were way broader than back then, complimenting the new, deeper tone of his voice and that annoyingly cocky twitching of the corner of his mouth. He grew up. Not just mentally, because, who knew how he really was after all of this. But most definitely, well, physically. When he spoke again, her eyes darted to the cup he was holding, and for a second she was worried he might have caught her staring. Even though it would simply be normal to do that. Right? Right. Yes, after all this time, of course it would be. At least she told herself that.
While her heart seemed to skip a beat or two at the sight of him winking, she herself looked at him with a blank expression. “Whether it’s good or not will be for me to judge.” Seemingly unbothered she leaned forward, grabbing that cup. “Additionally, last time I checked it was still the machine doing the work.” Thankful for having something else to do with her hands now, she gently ran her fingertips over the smooth and warm material. Needing a moment to regain composure, she inhaled the lovely smell of what was basically a life elixir for her. Glimpsing at him from over the cup, she tried to figure out if he was asking out of curiosity, or if he maybe wanted to get rid of her already. After thinking about the right words, she lowered her cup to her lap. ’You were to finish your training there.’ “And you should have moved your grandson-head-of-the-institute-ass back to Rome, and yet, well, here we are”, she scoffed. “As you should know, you can very well ask to be trained in other Institutes as part of your training phase. Being able to adapt is important for a Shadowhunter, after all.” Of course, they both knew that she was here to see if her suspicions of his return had been true or not. “The plan…”, she muttered in a pondering tone whilst tilting her head slighty. “To finish my training. Here. And beating your ass, of course”, she added nonchalantly. Lifting the cup to her lips once again, she peeked at him. “And for you?”, she asked. “Are you going to stay here?” With me? Or are you going to leave me again? Unsure if she could keep up the staring contest that had broken out between them without giving away all of her thoughts so easily, she lowered her gaze to what she was drinking. Unsurprisingly, it was delicious. Not that she would tell him, but he was obviously aware that the coffee was good.









written by
<g12>Leonidas di Angelo</g12>
years old - -
Posted on:  13.08.2022, 17:57 - Wörter: -

It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day
   Gast   Gast
am 20.02.2010




Somewhere inside him the little boy still existed. The one who had made friends with the little girl back then. Trying to remember what had happened when they were still kids, a part of his mind wandered, went through the bookshelves filled with books of memories to collect the one he aimed for, whilst the majority stayed concious in the present, alert and ready for everything. Through his training with the Mundane he got more alarmed, nearly jumpy when he got the feeling of being observed. A trait which is particularly relevant as a Shadowhunter, too. Besides that… he had learned so many different skillsets and ways of thinking, quickly evaluating and deciding when needed, adapted more adolescence manners and other qualities. Most of them, he would have gained through his training at one of the Institutes, too – in his opinion. However, in some ways he was glad he had had this expirience. Not many other Shadowhunters if any would have all of his skills. Which wasn’t that bad. On the other side, he might not have the same fighting techniques and knowledge in handling demons and other Downworlders. Not knowing the current affairs in all worlds was another big downside. Both he had on his daily agenda which seemingly contained nothing else. For him getting back on track, was his major task right now. Not accepting that he might need some time to heal – not only externally but also internally. His nightmares and flashbacks an indicator he might need someone to talk about everything that had happened, someone to help him get through this. Not needed, not even considered. Rather he lived with this terrors than to involve someone else. He didn’t need the pitty, the closer looks from others on not only his bruised body but his wounded soul. Nothing one could do, would ever reverse time and change the outcome of the mission he had been involved five years ago.

Roaming in his internal library, the librarian found those pitch black book covers which he didn’t dare to touch. The majority of them were coloured in this way. Often bad experiences were more present in ones memories than the good ones, especially when they had happened recently. The dark and forbidden section as he prefered to call it, was a part the librarian wandered along, never touching any besides when he seemed to be forced, triggered by any action, any feeling Leonidas had in a particular moment or situation. The more colourful books resided way back, some lost a bit of the brightness like they had been standing in strong sunlight for decades. Those memories weren’t as present anymore, some didn’t continue, had gaps or even lost most of their content. If he ever got them back?

Remembering he had been a joyful child, compared to him now nothing seemed left of him. His eyes more observant rested on everyone and everything in this room at once, his attention way better and more focused, he often talked less. Staying silent, he rather gathered his information by not only words of others but their body language and other traits. People like Serafina made it especially easy for him to collect their emotions as they were written all over their body. Embracing her to calm her was the only option he had as she had basically thrown her arms around his neck. Not being repelled by this, he wasn’t used to any such close contact which didn’t include pain. That’s why he might act a bit awkward in the first few seconds before he hugged her.

While he stifled a grin, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up a little more. Now she was watching him. Letting her gaze wander over his body, he didn't hold it against her. They had changed, both of them. His whole figure had changed from the somewhat skinny boy to the athletically muscular young man. It was only natural to get a better picture of each other. Peering out from underneath his side-draped mop of hair, he could clearly see her gasping for breath in a controlled manner. With it he had probably hit a nerve. "And the queen of cocky sayings lacks the backfire," he replied simply, briefly making direct eye contact before turning to the espresso machine. After all, he wanted to comply with her indirect request of his own volition. Her further comment on the offered carte blanche to vent her vendettas on him he simply left in the room. Even without further implications from her, he knew he would see her more often now. Not only because she would apparently be here in New York for a while, but also because of his private sanctuary, which would now become the first port of call for the Italian Shadowhunter. If only the Amarettini or even Cantuccini were missing, an Italian flag and appropriate music from the homeland and his rooms would mutate in an instant into the lounge of the Italians stationed in New York. No, he would have to come up with something.

One of his eyebrows rose slightly. Was she really insinuating that he was offering her bad coffee? The beans he had ground by hand were of the highest quality, as was the machine itself. He had learned to operate it from childhood, so it was second nature to him. Even a somewhat longer break could not change that. Besides, he had had enough practice the last few days to get back into the groove. Flashing her an undefinable glance, he sat back down, continuing their conversation which seemed more like a coffee gathering with a long time not seen friend. No, it actually was that. Listening he grabbed his own cup and took a few sips. So she had asked to continue her training phase in New York? Because of him? Just blinking a few times at her exaggerated long and insulting comment about himself, he stayed stoically calm as before. When she first broke eye contact while this question hung heavy in the room, he remained silent for a sip. "I was to complete my training here and I will continue to do so," he informed her. Slowly, he set the cup down and leaned forward, forearms resting loosely on the desk, direct eye contact restored. "Do not inform anyone that I have returned. I want to do this myself." If he ever found the right words for it. With that, he already leaned back again as well. "About your training status and process I will keep myself informed and observed", he let her know right away, while he prepared the machine for another cup of coffee. He sounded like a real (future) head of the institute, almost a trainer at the same time, who wanted to know exactly about each of his trainees. "What has happened in Rome in the last five years? Any big events or incidents? How is Chiara?", he now began with the questions, whereby she would have been the one who possessed at least equally burning ones. With the freshly steaming coffee in his hand, he turned his full and undivided attention back to her, seeking eye contact. "What all has been going on in your life?" Swiveling the cup slightly and lifting it, he invited her to a rambling tale.










written by
<g12>Serafina Rossi</g12>
years old - -
Posted on:  13.08.2022, 22:31 - Wörter: -

It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day
   Gast   Gast
am 20.02.2010




If she’d have had a way to peek inside his brain, it would have most likely scarred her for life. After years of her own suffering, reaching and clinging tight onto a future in which she had wished for time and time a again, adding to those miserable feelings would’ve deepened the crack in her already brittle walls. At least around him, they seemed to be. Something that left her unsatisfied and annoyed, but also scared. The last thing she wanted was to be vulnerable, but after sobbing at his shoulder just moments before, it was a little too late for regret. In a world with such horrible misfortune, alle she wanted was to see him smile again. Home, safe and sound. But looking at him now, with his strong posture and the composure he was radiating with, she wasn’t too sure if that was something he was still capable of. Well, neither was she. A cocky grin or a smirk weren’t the same thing as an honest smile, after all. The past years she had spent working on herself, bettering her physical and mental conditions. Yet, she still wanted to get stronger. Maybe one day she would have the power to stay true to herself, being who she really was. Simultaneously overjoyed about his return, yet anxious about someone like him possibly breaking down those defending walls she had built up around herself, she wasn’t sure what to feel. The icy feeling, that throbbing sensation in her throat and chest returned.

On one hand she was burning with questions about where he had been and, obviously, what had happened to him. How he managed to return. Usually, she would not have cared for potential discomfort of the other party, but somehow, Leonidas hit a soft spot. All the happy memories from her childhood were swirling around in her head, mixed with all of the grief and anger that she felt over the years as she came to accept his death. This was weird.
‘And the queen of cocky sayings lacks the backfire’. The way he effortlessly played the ball right back to her was surprising. Elevating her mood, while frustrating her at the same time. Then again, she had learned not to back away from a challenge. Somehow, she was intrigued. Could she possibly be able to create a crack in his façade, like he inevitably would in hers? “What can I say”, she shrugged with a challenging spark in her eyes, using the banter as a means to gain time while thinking of a good reply. “It’s an art.” For now, she enjoyed this, but as she easily grew frustrated with things that she could not predict, it was all but a question of time until she would start to get seriously bothered. Be it by his capability to think of a witty response on the spot, or her inability to do so without growing frustrated.

While contradicting emotions were causing inner conflict, she gave anything to keep a straight face. As best as she could, anyway, but she had never learned to control the look in her eyes. If her words didn’t give her feelings away, it was always her eyes. Able to gain some time by drinking the coffee, she finally thought of a proper answer. Though, the tone he used for his own response struck a nerve. Immediately, she brought up her walls again, looking at him with a blank expression. This time, it took less effort. He was to complete his training. What a shocker. But maybe also go back to where you’re supposed to lead your people later, you idiot?, she thought with a barely suppressed, displeased sound. The way he looked at her, with the authority of a di Angelo he pulled out of his ass, baffled and irritated her. She hated adults playing the ‘I’m so much wiser and more experienced than you’-card. She definitely didn’t need him to do that, too. Ticked off, she gritted her teeth while placing her cup on the desk in front of her. If he wanted to play the adult game, fine. Who did he take her for? She didn’t even disclose the reason for her transfer. Though, of course, other people who have maybe heard some rumors might be able to guess or had their own assumptions. “Just like you informed me then, I guess?”, she snapped at him, losing her poise she had tried so hard to maintain. It was a low blow, but she knew she had a point, too. Scared of pushing him away, but at the same time too prideful for her own good, she stared him down. Hah! Okay, cocky boy. You keep yourself informed. What a fucking jerk thing to say. If you wanna act like that, maybe you should come back to Rome. Where you belong. Her lower lip trembled with displeasure, and she broke off the eye contact like the pouty kid that she was.

Him asking about Chiara and the circumstances was no surprise. After thinking about it for a moment, she sighed, brushing some strands of hair out of her face that had gone astray. “She’s … Dealing.” If he really wanted to know what was going on, he should get in touch with her himself. Since he was being such a grown-up, it should be easy for him, right? Thinking about the head of the Institute in Rome made her gaze unoriented as she combed through her memories of Chiara, wearing her mourning rune for everyone to see. The muscles in her jaw twitched again, indicating that she had things to say but kept herself from doing so. She was still upset that he didn’t reach out to her sooner. Being her usual, resentful self, she wasn’t just gonna hand him all the information he seeked on a silver platter. Nuh-uh.
Lifting her gaze again, she was confronted with his undivided attention. Suddenly, she felt uneasy. The blue marbles focused on his face, then the cup in his hand, until he asked her a different question. “I grew up.” Unable to control her facial expression, her eyebrows shot up, looking as if she was thinking about adding furhter information. “For the most part, anyway.” Looking at him and how he stood there, tall, with the cup in his hand. Waiting. Observing. The bitterness was back. “Guess we both did.” Eager to change the topic and getting a reason to break off the eye contact – as well as getting rid of the tension between them, of which she wasn’t completely sure if she was just imagining it or not – she nodded towards the machine beside him. Coffee was a save, unconventional conversation topic. At least she was hoping that she wasn’t stepping on a land mine. “If one wanted to, where would an underpaid Shadowhunter get one of those?” Compared to coffee in a … What, did they have a canteen? Or maybe even worse, instant coffee? Italians obviously knew their craft when it came to beans and brewing. Coffee was what kept them running. One of the stereotypes which proved to be true. But Americans, what did they know about coffee? Seeing how much sugar they dumped into everything, she doubted that they had any sense of what was good and what wasn’t. Good quality was wasted on them.









written by
<g12>Leonidas di Angelo</g12>
years old - -
Posted on:  14.08.2022, 11:54 - Wörter: -

It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day
   Gast   Gast
am 20.02.2010




Not only did he not want to talk about the past five years in detail, could he imagine it would be triggering and traumatizing for others. He hadn’t simply spent the time away at a grand hotel, working out in the fitness area with a personal coach to get fit, eating healthy and diverse food with the assistance of chef cooks and just chilling at a beach. Involuntarily, he had been kidnapped, had been taken hundreds of miles away from New York to be held in a dark, small room like a prisoner. Only being allowed to go outside for training times and when he had to fulfill diverse household duties like cutting wood into pieces for the fireplace which warmth he would never feel on his own skin. His tongue tied into a knot when he only thought about talking about it, he couldn’t… Another reason why he wasn’t able to be open about it. Firstly, the story itself, secondly, the ability of finding the right words for it, and thirdly, to stop the memories, the emotions or even prevent them before they could roll over him like a tsunami filled with pain and despair. Meanwhile, he couldn’t even imagine how much his family and friends had suffered his loss. There had been a hollow feeling inside him for the first few weeks when he had thought about the last glimpses of the mission he had caught sight of. At first it had been the main theme of his nightmares, being back there fighting demons which outnumbered them with ease. Later they turned back to the past couples of days and months of him being trained, sometimes even in combination with the prior ones which together created a venomous cocktail of immense torture. Often he found himself waking from his dream screaming, sweating in the cold and damp room, his scars throbbing and burning like freshly cut. Swearing he would never let anything like this happen to anybody else, he had endured it all somehow. Maybe it was a test by the nephilim? One of the instant first thoughts he had had which soon faded. Now the bitter reality had hit him like a truck. Instead of a test, he tried to assert different ways of escape - one being more suicidal than the other. Most options he outlawed simply because they could be against the opinion of the Clave. What would they think about him if they knew? If they found it? No, there had to be a better way but with bitterness he had realized there had been none. To be free, he had to kill. Now he had broken his chains and still he wasn’t free…

Their conversation almost had something of an old married couple about it. Basically they liked each other, but he had done something that went against her grain. To get back at him, they would literally argue all day long, throwing jibes at each other like a ball. But now she seemed to be the one who couldn't think of any more, although she was actually the master of this verbal sport. At least he thought so. Her rather more sober remark only earned her a slightly raised eyebrow. "Everybody is an artist in one way or another," he said with an extremely wise and almost precocious phrase.

After everyone had received their coffee, he returned to her question. Of course he would continue his training and also at the institute to which he had been assigned. What did she think? He knew he had to go back to Rome, but the circumstances were not exactly the best. Sending fire messages a few days ago had been the most obvious idea, but he had had to throw it out. Only because of lack of eloquence and linguistic skill. For him, clear, short orders and open words counted more, he was trained to react to them immediately. Nevertheless, this was exactly the wrong approach. At the same time, he did not want to give a formal report, nor did he want to have to justify himself properly, but at the same time he did not want to play everything down as terse. He didn't have to read minds to know that his counterpart was of a different opinion, which was clearly expressed by her hissed words. He really couldn't play it down. "My ability to put enough information on paper without really telling everything, and yet enough so that you don't worry any more, leaves much to be desired," he confessed to her before sighing audibly. "We both know that almost half the institute in Rome would travel to New York at once or organize a party during my visit. I don't want either of those. I don't want a big fuss made about my appearance. At the same time, I want to visit our homeland without making everyone think that my spirit has returned to haunt them." Given his family history with Filomena, this was not at all unrealistic. The discord was clear from his tone, as was the longing for his home and family. Still, he couldn't just go back, he didn't want to resume his education there only to feel everyone's eyes on him, to perceive the whispering behind his back... No, he had to find an alternative solution. Just as quickly as he had opened up to her again for a short time, he closed himself off again like a mussel. It was so... strange. How did she always manage to tickle out the boy from before?

When he asked about his family, especially his grandmother, he received no answer for a short time. He watched Serafina with interest, trying to read in her eyes what she knew, but she would not allow him to make direct contact. "She's... dealing" Even the slight hesitation triggered a new tangle of feelings inside him. Worry, fear and incredible heartbreak struggled for dominance. Furrowing his brows he looked at her. "If you want to add something, don't hold your tongue. Speak freely," that's what he expected from his people. Even if that phrase felt wrong somehow and left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. Somehow he knew not to expect any further information. He should get it himself in Rome. This silent message had reached him loud and clear.

However, he couldn't make heads or tails of even his old childhood friend. Each of his questions made him meet granite and almost bite his teeth on it. But he knew better than to keep trying. She had always been stubborn and even with a battering ram nothing could be coaxed out of her if she didn't want it. The few pieces she threw at him, however graciously, took away his compulsion to reply. Imperceptibly, he swallowed hard. "Sometimes you have to grow up faster than you like," he let her know before he stuck his nose back into his cup and let the tart drops of coffee flood his taste buds.

Her sudden change of subject told him she didn't want to talk about it. He would by no means force her to, so he had no choice but to jump on her bandwagon. "There is something similar to coffee in the canteen", he explained to her, his nose already slightly wrinkled for a moment. He obviously didn't like this broth himself. Why else would he have bought such an expensive machine? Turning his gaze back to her, one corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Of course, he could now play two sides: The one clearly too authoritative and self-congratulatory, by simply letting this sentence stand, or else he came towards her, but made it clear she was not to be given the whole hand straight away. "You may help yourself to coffee here under the following conditions: I don't want constant going in and out and no snooping. Everything will be treated, handled and cleaned with care and neatness. The two of us train together at least once a week and I want you to accompany me on my trips to Rome." The first were clearly normal requirements, while the last two, on the other hand, were a little more special. However, it was nothing unusual to train together, but in combination with the journeys - plural! He made it clear that he did not want to push her away, on the contrary. He wanted to re-establish contact with her. And she couldn't object to frequent trips home, could she?










written by
<g12>Serafina Rossi</g12>
years old - -
Posted on:  14.08.2022, 13:35 - Wörter: -

It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day
   Gast   Gast
am 20.02.2010




Even if she didn’t like admitting it, but she kind of enjoyed the way they were verbally dancing around each other. Equally looking for places to strike, barely holding back. Like a game of cat and mouse, just that they were both cats. Maybe even lions. Amused, she rolled her eyes at him. How deep. “Alright then. And you are a poet, I presume?”, she asked in a mocking voice. Prick. In that moment, her palms itched to have a close encounter of the bitch-slap kind with his face.

So, he wasn’t planning on leaving the Institute again. That also meant he wasn’t going to leave her. Thank the angels. Sera could not possibly put into words how relieved she was to hear those words. After all those years of thinking he was dead, she was yearning to spend some time with him. Anything, really. She just wanted to be with him, make up for the lost time.
Regret trickled into her, but she would not take back her words. They both knew she was right. He had to. As he spoke, her face lightened up with disbelief. For a few seconds, she simply stared at him in silence. “You’re kidding, right?” She paused, waiting, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Right?” The blue of her marbles was locking onto the green of his. “’Not worry anymore’, my ass. What on earth makes you think that, just because you sent us a message that you were back or ‘ok’”, she drew quotations into the air with her fingers, as she stressed the word, “… that we would not worry about you anymore?” Still in disbelief, she shook her head. “And I always thought you were the smart one of us.” Somehow, she had a hard time understanding where he was coming from. How could she, since she didn’t know shit about what had happened to him while he was gone? Again, she didn’t want to start imagining. The possible scenarios she had painted in her head way back then came back to haunt her. How fitting, just as he spoke of his soul haunting others. Her face looked like she had just seen someone spit into her morning coffee. “Obviously. They’d be elated. You’re the Head’s grandson and their future Head. Duh.” Though, a party was laying it on a little thick. Seemed a little too over the top to her, even for her Italian friends and family.
And just like that, his mask was back on. Solid, pristine. Infuriating and fucking frustrating to look at. Annoyance and hurt was written all over her face.
‘If you want to add something, don’t hold your tongue.’ Without hesitation, she spat out the words: “No, thanks.” She was still upset about the delay, and if there was one thing she was excelling at, it was holding grudges. Even for no reason at all, especially if it fucked her over in the process. She didn’t want to push him away or give him a reason to want to keep his distance from her, but at the same time, fuck you. She was pissed, and not ready to forgive. So, she would have to deal with her sassy attitude until she was over it. Or, well, forever, since she was being sassy all the time. At least he seemed to have understood that she was not going to tell him anything more. That was his own problem.
With a perverse sense of satisfaction, she noticed him swallowing before replying. At least he was still able to feel something. Whilst he was hiding his face in the coffee cup as she had done before, she smiled drily at him. “Apparently so.”
Something ‘similar’. What the fuck, that sounded super suspicious. And, hold on, what was that what she was spotting? The corner of his mouth lifted, causing her heart to flutter. Shut up, traitor, she groaned at her happy and loving self. Now wasn’t the time for butterflies. We are mad at him, remember? “Ooor…”, she started, stretching the word, “… or, I could just break in and use it when you’re out.” Shrugging, she added: “I might even consider learning how to pick a lock.” Her smile was bright, wide, and clearly a provocation. But then, she grimaced. “You can’t seriously be telling me, an Italian, not to constantly go in and out.” She looked at him as if he was missing an obvious point. “We’re talking about coffee here, Leonidas. Nothing is going to stop me. Asking was simply out of sheer politeness.” A mere door wasn’t going to stop her from getting proper coffee, if her other options were to either drink whatever ‘similar’ stuff they offered here, or figuring out where the hell she was gonna get a decent cup of coffee from in a city she had never been in before. Hell to the no.

Leaning forward, she grabbed her cup again, shooting him a look. “You know I would find a way in. Even if it means you won’t have a door anymore at all.” Pretty content with herself and totally unapologetic, she emptied her cup. Obviously, she was just joking. Well, maybe only half. But she also wasn’t stupid enough to break his coffee machine. First of all, she needed that coffee. Second of all, she didn’t need to give him any extra reasons to be pissed off. Thirdly, she was quite satisfied to have found a reason to cross paths with him more in the future, aside from all the training stuff. “Also”, she continued in a bragging voice, “I’ll have you know that I actually don’t suck at fighting anymore. Not as much. So you better watch out for that ass of yours, if you’re gonna train with me.” Little did she know the hardships he’d had to endure, and that, if he really wanted, he could, most likely, disarm and pin her down in a heartbeat. It wasn’t like she was completely hopeless, she just… took too long to take her training seriously, and now it was biting her in the ass. Again, she rolled her eyes. This time, the smile reached her eyes, even if it was quite coquettish. “But, since I’m so gracious, I’ll accept the olive branch you’ve offered me. I’d be thrilled to accompany you on your trips.” With a playful smile, she raised her hand, pointing her finger in his direction, as if she was warning a child not to misbehave. “But only if that threat of training with you is a promise set in stone. Ah, be warned: I may be ruthless and insufferable now, but it’s even worse before the first coffee of the day.”









written by
<g12>Leonidas di Angelo</g12>
years old - -
Posted on:  15.08.2022, 09:45 - Wörter: -

It’s a ‘multiple cups of coffee’ kinda day
   Gast   Gast
am 20.02.2010




Normally, he wouldn’t participate in any kind of games. They were foolish and childish, most of the time. However, this one he enjoyed somehow. Maybe he would continue this masterpiece of verbal battering with her in private. His ‘new’ mindset did not allow him to use that when other, unknown Shadowhunters were around. This wasn’t a matter of pride, it was professionalism. Moreover, he wanted to earn respect and not be seen as one who wasn’t strong enough to lead and command clearly. Her mocking assumption nearly amused him. I am neither a poet, nor a painter. Only if they are allowed to create their lines with blood. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he glanced at her. ”Anything can be art in someone’s eyes. Even the most horrible work.”

For him it would be irresponsible and incomprehensible to leave the New York Institute to continue his training elsewhere. They had done nothing wrong. Admittedly, he would not assume on good faith that they had searched for him sufficiently. Nonetheless, they hadn’t caused his kidnapping. He would advise to cross-check their information before they send out hunters or, at least, have multiple plans if plan A and maybe even B failed. Returning home to Rome for his training phase wasn’t an option then. Not telling them he had returned was another matter for which he earned a deverstating stare. Listening nearly every word turned into a imaginary slap into the face for him. Everyone had worried about him, and still was worrying besides him being declared dead. The scars from the mission started to itch and slightly burn at the thought of the heart pain of his family and friends. ”I never wanted it to come to this, to cause you any kind of pain and despair”, honesty filled his voice which still seemed more like the authority one. Pressing his lips a bit more together, he did not know what to say. ”It’s …”, one hand ran through his hair in distress, ”Everyone asks me the same questions about my whereabouts. Legit, no question. But… I don’t… I can’t…” By the angels, he grasped for words, looking away shortly to gather himself and suppress the memories before he turned his head back towards her. With Serafina he wanted to be honest, wanted to tell her but he simply couldn’t. Inhaling deeply, he added ”Give me some time… please.” He desperately needed to sort things out, without a doubt. That it might help to talk with others, he didn’t even consider right now. For him, it was his problem, his kind of failure and personal story he needed to get straight before he could tell others. The head’s grandson… the future head… Was he just that? Handed that burden by birth and wearing it ever since? Nothing more? No… He was more than that. ”Heavy is the head that wears the crown”, he muttered more to himself than her.

Now he would have to live with the consequences of not telling anyone, especially her. Knowing she could hold grudges for a while and would often rub it into his face, he accepted his fate. Ignoring the spite in her words which hit another nerve. On the one hand, he was astonished she didn’t hold back, on the other hand, he called her a fool for doing so. Her attitude wouldn’t be to the liking of everyone and she would not only make friends with that. Allowing her to not hold back with her comments and furiosity right now, did not mean, he would accept it forever.

Oh oooohhh, what was she planning? The self-indulgent smile on her face let his brow raise as a reflection. Breaking into his room? Picking the lock? Everything under the umbrella of cohesion? With every argument it rose higher, his lips twitching in hidden amusement. His heart skipping a beat as soon as she called him by his name. Why was that always happening to him? This sudden jump and the warm feeling… Was she telling him, she would start a fight over coffee? ”Apparently, you have never heard of privacy”, something he had in one way or another the last few years, too. ”Oh, I can make sure, you will never set a foot into my room again – believe me” , he almost threatened her. Would he really be that mean? Pinching his eyes slightly he looked at her. ”I did not know my room is the headquarter of the Italian Shadowhunters based in New York.”

There was something in the air. Somehow they managed to run at each other, growl their claws in warning and briefly give each other a few sets of hot ears without really hurting the other. They also managed to drive each other mad with teasing words. It was as if they were two young lions who raged together, sometimes more sometimes less seriously, even after they had not seen each other for a long time. They had a very special chemistry and dynamics that many could probably never understand. His head slightly tilted, his eyes flashed out of interest and amusement. ”Why don’t you move in with me here then, if you want to spend most of your time near the espresso machine either way?”, he added a bit cheeky and almost challenging. And want to spent most of the time with me...

How proudly she let him know she had gotten better at fighting! It warmed his heart. She hadn’t been the typical kind and had taken the training sessions seriously. Obviously, that had changed. Many things and people had. ”I will be on my watch for sudden attacks and broken doors then.” Oh, my lady had finally decided to accept his offer. ”yeah, how generous of you”, he admitted with a slight roll of his eyes.

Something had started to brew in his chest over the course of their conversation, lowered slightly over time but always kept raising. And now it had reached the point of boiling. The final blow was her pointing at him and warning him to claim her trainings lessons with him, if necessary, but needing coffee or she would otherwise turn feral. A laugh errupted from him out of nowhere and filled the room for a heartbeat. It was a short one but still you could hear he hadn’t had done that for quiet a while, filled with honest and pure relief and joy. His head thrown in his neck a bit for that, he flashed a loving smile at her for a second afterwards. ”I did not know you were so keen on training with me. Otherwise, I would have raised my demands and the number of mandatory training sessions per week.” Her smile… her damn smile… ”Pinky promise” Like the promises they had made as children. Shaking his head slightly, his faded like someone brushed it away, like it had never existed before. ”Anything else I should know?”










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