West of Words (Alec Lightwood)

🗝 Chapter Thirty-Five 🗝

"Ah, Mr. Bane." Aldertree opened the door with a flourish, offering the Warlock his hand to shake in a way of greeting.

It was the first time that Varian had truly gotten to look at the man, despite the few glances from across the room while he was announcing things to the Shadowhunters (and the few Downworlders) during the first meeting, and as he had already decided he did not like him. The man was only a few inches taller than Varian, but he gave off the air of a man bigger and larger than himself.

"Aldertree." Varian greeted, firmly avoiding the hand offered to him to shake and instead taking a seat in the corner of the couch, crossing his arms in front of him, and his legs crossed to match. As if he were trying to take up as little space as possible, his eyes did not look up from the impractical loafers that the man wore.

Aldertree chose not to properly sit in a chair, perching himself on the arm of the wing chair that was a matching pair to the one next to it. His phone was sitting on a stand that was pointed at Varian, obviously meant to record the conversation going on. Aldertree made no move to start the recording, instead his eyes locked firmly on Varian a scrutinizing gaze that made him wish more than anything he wasn't in the office with him.

"I believe you have formed a sort of," Aldertree paused, as if it hurt him to say the word, "relationship, with Alexander Lightwood."

Varian looked up at the man, an heir of confidence that he did not feel stopped his hands from shaking as he spoke. "And I believe that is none of your relationship."

Aldertree hummed, smiling as if Varian's words amused him, though the emotion was untrue. The chartreuse surrounding the man informed Varian of just how annoying he found the Warlock, the sentiments were returned.

"I suppose you're right." Aldertree's accent was so specifically Scouse, which led Varian to believe he was born in raised in Liverpool, a far cry from Varian's Oxfordshire accent. "I want you to help track Jace Wayland."

Varian did not respond, and tried to keep his face neutral. He would help track down Jace, as he had already begun by finding Alec any books that could help, but not at Aldertree's request.

"I'll ask again-"

"But you didn't ask the first time." Varian interrupted, his voice firm with confidence that he did not have. "You told me you wanted my help."

And there was that suppressed smile again, Varian was pushing his buttons, which was something he hadn't meant to do (though he enjoyed the way Aldertree attempted to seem like it didn't bother him). The empath in Varian could see through every false and suppressed look.

"Will you track Jace Wayland?" It was phrased as a question, with a hint of aggression if Varian did not say yes.

Varian had a knack for making deals, his baba  (and most Warlocks and Downworlders) came to Varian when they were in need of any sort of help with deals. He had a knack for contracts, which was half of the reason why Camille Belcourt chose to come to Varian for the Writ. The Downworld lawyer in Varian felt the need to point out the loophole in Aldertree's question, one that he quickly chose to exploit.

"Yes." Varian said.

Aldertree smiled proudly, "Then you are allowed in the Institute, so long as you help to track down Jace Wayland and Valentine Morgenstern. Anything past that, and I will bar you from the Institute."

The tone was threatening, but Varian was unconcerned, his eyes trailed back down to the loafers.

"Good." Aldertree pat his legs as he stood, the color of annoyance change to a darker green, pride. He found himself proud in the way he had persuaded Varian to help in tracking down Jace.

Varian found him stupid, but he would not say it.

He stood, moving to leave through the door he came in through, feeling more than satisfied in the way he had acted around Aldertree, though there was something hidden just below the surface of the way he had told Aldertree that he would help. Varian felt anxious, a strange feeling running through the air as he left the office.

As soon as Varian heard the click of the office door behind him, he took off running, speared by the anxiety of being alone on a hallway of a place that did not like people like him, in more way than one. He laughed as he nearly fell down the tall staircase that led the way to where Varian knew Alec would be, a snorting laugh that was much to loud for a silent place as this.

He suppressed it with a smile when he reached the bottom, carding a hand through his hair in an attempt of calming himself down, before almost immediately wincing when his fingers caught the horns that had only just stopped growing.

"Varian." The voice was soft, almost wary to speak to him, though much to familiar to be ignored. He turned, his eyes locking onto the form of Jocelyn Fairchild, a wave of passive fear washing over him, his hands started to shake at his sides.

"Miss Fairchild." Varian nodded his head in a way of greeting, once again avoiding the hand that was reached out to him for a shake. He did not like the way that she felt familiar enough with him to call him by his first name, though he did not comment on it.

"Thank you." She smiled awkwardly, a look he recognized in Clarissa plenty of times, dropping the avoided hand to her side. "For waking me up."

Varian shook his head, "You would do better to thank Ragnor Fell." It was an almost programmed response to give, though the hollow feeling that followed the name was something Varian was not expecting. "It was his passing of the Book of the White  to me that led to the breaking of the spell."

Jocelyn nodded, "I hoped he would be here for me to thank, but from what I hear he died only days ago."

The hollow feeling fluttered in Varian's chest, but he nodded. "A demon attack."

She appeared apologetic, before her phone started to ring and she quickly excused herself.

It was a strange feeling to not be recognized by his own mother, though she was barely that to him. He pushed whatever emotion that it was away, turning with a dramatic spin, he continued through the Institute and back into the training room.

He wished to walk in and find Alec going at the punching bag once again (specifically with his shirt off) only to find himself disappointed that neither Alec or his stack of books were there. Instead it was Clarissa and Izzy, going at each other with Bo Staff's, Varian found himself smiling, it was after all his preferred weapon of choice.

Varian paused in stride and in thought, watching as Clarissa and Izzy fought. The former sufficiently out skilled by the latter. 

"Might I join?" Varian asked, feeling encouraged by the bright smile and excited nodding from Izzy.

He stepped forward, lifting his hand into the air and smiling as one of his rings unraveled itself from his pinky finger. It extended without a a low crackle sound to be ever so slightly taller than Varian.

"Right then," Varian spun the staff from hand to hand with an easy flourish, "Let's begin."