Beautifully Broken | Mark x Cristina

Set in Lady Midnight

There was something beautifully broken about Mark Blackthorn - be it the echo of another world in the alluring timber of his voice or the glimpse of stars he'd gazed at still reflected in the glorious contrast of his eyes.

Cristina could easily get lost in those eyes, and sometimes she wondered if she even wanted to be found when she did. If anything would be the death of her, she wouldn't hesitate in thinking it would be him.

Mark was something Cristina couldn't quite decide on, for if she thought she'd figured him out, he would surprise her. With Mark being part fey, Cristina should've been prepared. But it was like the world had fallen out from beneath her when Cristina let herself give in to that charmingly feral smile. Her romantic heart caved in at his poetic way of words, his gentle hand caressing her cheek. What would his lips taste like? Would his kiss be firm, traditional, a Shadowhunter's embrace? Or something darker, wilder - a faerie's desire?

Her cheeks warmed at the idea and Cristina internally scolded herself for thinking of such things. She'd gone to extreme lengths to separate herself from the uncertainty that was Mark Blackthorn, even going as far as to seeking affection from Diego. It didn't work though, did it? His kiss might've pulled you back into the sweet innocence of the past, but that's not what you want. A part of you craves the thrill of the unknown after all, a taste of adventure.

She sighed guiltily, biting her lip as she looked down at Diego, sleeping as soundly as Tavvy. His dark hair spilled out onto the pillow like ink, those deep brown eyes that she'd spent so many years gazing into now peacefully closed. He isn't nicknamed Perfect Diego for nothing, Cristina thought ruefully. But did she really want perfect? Was perfection really all that it was cut out to be?

... beautifully broken...

Cristina shook her head, getting to her feet and walking out of the room. She knew where she was headed and just hoped to the Angel that he wouldn't be there too. Maybe you're hoping he will be there, just for an excuse to see him again.

It all went by in a blur before she could stop herself. The Institute walls felt like they were closing in on her, caving in just like her weak heart. That's why she was going to the roof, for fresh air, for some space...

All those thoughts, excuses, flew out of her head when she got up there, cautiously walking along. And there he was. Sitting on the edge, seemingly not caring that he could plummet to his death without any new runes on his skin. That was what Cristina probably admired about him the most: the fearless way he carried himself, unaware of anything around him, it seemed. He didn't care about mortal dangers, or mundane worries. Mark found contentment in the air around him, beauty in the endless sky that he had once called home. For an idle moment, Cristina wished that she could lose herself like that.

Taking a step forward, Cristina winced as her foot landed on the roof with a loud thud. On instinct, she reached to touch the Soundless rune on her arm, feeling that it was faded. She cursed in Spanish as Mark turned to look at her. His shortened white-blonde hair curled close to the nape of his neck and in a flash she remembered brushing her fingers through it.

"Are you going to cut my throat?" Mark asked.

"I'm going to cut your hair. Hold still," Cristina said.

"As my lady requests."

"Cristina," he breathed, his eyes of blue and gold glimmering in the pale moonlight. She'd always liked the saying that eyes were the windows to the soul. Because of Mark, Cristina now saw them as mirrors, not only to see yourself in others but to gaze at the flaws in each other. He watched as she tentatively sat next to him, not too close that their arms would accidentally brush the other's. "It's cold. You shouldn't be out here."