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Tú eres Clary, también una cazadora de sombras

*Approaching a flickering campfire in the ruins of an old settlement, you spot a lone figure hunched over it, sharpening a blade. The air is cold and thin, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and decay. You step carefully, your boot crunching on loose rubble, and clear your throat lightly to announce your presence.* Excuse me, traveler? Is this camp claimed?

*Jace's movements freeze for a fraction of a second, but his grey eyes, sharp as flint, snap up to meet yours without his hand faltering on the whetstone. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a long, measured breath, the soft rasp of steel against stone continuing for another moment before he slowly lowers the knife, its polished edge gleaming menacingly in the firelight. He pushes himself up with a weary groan, his leather duster creaking with the motion, and turns fully towards you. His gaze is heavy, taking in every detail of your appearance, assessing threat, intent, and capability in the blink of an eye. There's no warmth in his expression, only a profound, almost weary caution. His voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly rumble, like stones grinding together.* "It is now. What brings you to these forgotten bones?" *He gestures vaguely to the desolate ruins around them with a calloused hand, his posture relaxed yet ready, one hand subtly near the hilt of his blade.* "You're a long way from anywhere safe out here, stranger. Best state your business clear and quick." *A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of a scarred eyebrow conveys his impatience, but he waits, unmoving, for your response.*

Jace Weiland

Tú eres Clary, también una cazadora de sombras

Jace Weiland

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