West of Words (Alec Lightwood)

🗝 Chapter Two 🗝

Varian watched two of the three teenagers move as they set the man down on the couch. Varian helped as needed, propping his head up and avoiding skin to skin contact in a careful way.

He looked at the wounds on the mans chest closely, ignoring the worry basically rolling off of the teenagers. He couldn't concentrate on them now, he could barely remember their faces, all Varian could think about is the extremely injured man laying on his couch.

But the wounds looked familiar, and he pushed himself to his feet, moving around those that stood in the room and scanning his shelves for what he needs. Varian couldn't tell if someone was speaking, some part of him just wanted to shout for them to stop feeling but he pushed it away, concentrating on the damn wood  that he couldn't find.

"Fuck," the word left his mouth before he could really think about it, and suddenly he remembered. Varian moved quicker than normal, making his way into his kitchen and attempting to pull himself up high enough to reach what he needed to. "You!" He shouted suddenly, rounding the corner and pointing his finger at the tallest of the group. A dark haired unmarked Shadowhunter (presumably a mundane), and though he did not look close enough at everyone else, he recognize the fact that the others were Shadowhunters.

The dark haired boy came without an issue, and did as Varian instructed, reaching for what he needed in an easy way. Varian took it in both hands, careful to not touch to much of the wood as he moved back into the living room. His baba  knew what he was doing the second he rejoined them, and Magnus Bane helped in opening the mouth of the injured Werewolf so Varian could place the wood in between his teeth.

Varian turned, pleased with what that would do to help, before he finally concentrated on those that had joined his baba  in the apartment.

They were nearly all Shadowhunters, as he had already noticed, but that was all that he could tell. Until he got to the last in the line, the little red head that seemed to have worry rolling off of her in droves, and Varian recognized her instantly.

Clarrissa Fairchild, but like most things that had happened in the past ten minutes, he pushed it away and decided to deal with it at another time.

"And who are your guests baba?" Varian smiled as he spoke, the British accent that he had just barely breaking the surface.

Magnus Bane flourished as he introduced the Shadowhunters standing next to him.

"Isabelle Lightwood, and Clary Fray, Shadowhunters as you can see, and Simon Lewis, a mundane." Varian smiled, avoiding the hand that the mundane stretched towards him for a handshake and just nodding, and pressing a hand to his chest.

"I am Varian." He did not want to give his last name, and he had no obligation too. Varian turned to look down at the man sprawled across the couch. "The bark will stop his transformation for now. But he needs an antidote, not a temporary cure, and I don't have the ingredients here."

The mundane spoke first, attempting to sound brave and like he knew what he was doing. He was nerdy, and attempted to give off an easy and relaxed vibe. But Varian could see right through it, he was much more worried than he'd like to appear. "Just tell me what you need and how to get it."

There was a micro-movement, something so small that most wouldn't notice, but Varian always noticed. A twitch of his eyes towards the small redhead Shadowhunter made Varian realize the connection.

Varian started to share the necessary ingredients with him but stopped when a low pulse passed through the room. The door to his flat came swinging open and in entered a brand new figure. A Shadowhunter, and a familiar looking one at that. Varian noticed the cut above his eye, and watched as the two Shadowhunters approached the man in a concerned way.

"Jace, what happened to you?" The little red-head asked, and Varian wondered the same thing as he left the room. Varian could just barely hear the response ("Luke's car may have found his way into a pole as I was stashing it.") It made him smile, but he ignored it as he looked across his shelves, already aware that he didn't have the necessary ingredients.

When he stepped back into the living room the group was waiting, most with concerned looks.

"What do you need for the antidote?" The blonde one, Jace, asked not actually looking at Varian as he spoke.

"Moon Salt, Idris Fulgurite, Pheonix Eyes, preferably the left ones. and a piece of a previously never broken stained glass window." Varian closed his eyes as he thought about it, listing the list before opening his eyes and smiling in a hopefully encouraging way.

"That's specific." The boy Jace said it with a snort, and Simon Lewis the mundane nodded confidently as he spoke.

"One trip to the pharmacy, it'll take two seconds." Varian did not want to correct the boy, instead he turned to face the Werewolf on his sofa kneeling at his side before reaching his hand out to the man's forehead.

His palm pressed onto the man's forehead and he internally winced at how hot the skin was. Seconds after he touched him, the Werewolf began to scream, and Varian was really glad that he had his wards. Varian's eyes screwed shut, as he reached into the man's mind and prodded at the pain center. It began to unfurl, and the Werewolf on his couch started to relax.

Varian stood, turning to face his baba  and the others, happy they had finally stopped arguing. 

"A glass window?" Varian looked at the boy who spoke, smiling at the confused look he had.

"Yes, preferably from a church. Overtime it's embedded with blessings and good will." Varian glanced down at his hands as he spoke, mentally preparing himself for the exhaustion that would creep in when he started to heal the Werewolf on his couch.

The others in the room nodded, sending the male Shadowhunter and the mundane on their way with the ask of getting another Shadowhunter as they went. There was a tension in the room, a distinct feeling of not wanting to do that  came from the blonde Shadowhunter as they left the room.

It was silent, as if the two young women didn't know what to say. The darker haired one, Isabelle was looking Varian up and down in a way that would have made anyone (other than Varian) blush. There was a near hostility coming from the smaller girl at her side, like she felt threatened. Varian purposefully avoided eye contact, knowing that this girl was much more than a simple Shadowhunter.

"Tea, anyone?" Varian offered, in a way of easing the tension. He brushed past the two Shadowhunters, moving to the kitchen yet still feeling the eyes of the red head on his back.

She was, after all, his twin sister, and the resemblance was noticeable, if Varian hadn't recently dyed his hair a dark purple, temporarily of course. The confusion and near hostility that radiated off of her was overpowering, and as his baba  joined him in the kitchen to help Varian pressed a hand into his baba's  arm, borrowing his calmness in an attempt to push away Clarissa's overpowering emotions.

"Thank you." Varian muttered to him, before releasing his baba's  arm and taking two of the cups of tea. He approached Clarissa, passing the cup to her in a way that hopefully displayed that he meant her no harm.

She hesitated when she reached for it, but accepted it nonetheless. Isabelle gaze landed back on Varian as she started to drink her tea.

"So who are you? A Warlock?"