It was a strange mix of emotions every time he sat down at the piano and began to play. Lessons had been learned through pain and loss. Broken fingers and healing. Again and again. Jace had loved his father. But his father wasn't his father anymore and, by extension, he had no idea who he was now. Did he love Valentine the way he'd loved Michael Wayland? They were the same man. The same cruelty. The same father. The same, few and far between, good memories. Fishing together. Hunting together.
Playing the piano brought him joy and heartache. Another thing he loved broken by his father. Valentine. And yet he played. He played and he had taught Alec to play.
He loved and he hated the piano. The way he loved and hated Valentine. The way he had loved and then hated Hodge.
It's strange, walking in someone else's shoes. The hate and the spark to do better still tastes like ashe in his mouth, the bitterness still there like bile in his throat, but he looks nothing like his real self. This form is pretty, this form is handsome, this form is everything Jonathan Morgenstern feels he should be.
He wears Sebastian with a strange sort of pride, walking around the Institute. People trust him. People smile at him, and he thinks he never wants to shed this skin. Not for the world.
Until he sees Jace, and it all comes crashing down. The fire burns bright the moment he lays eyes on the other, though he's gotten very good at hiding it. You learn a few things in Edom.
For now, Sebastian leans against the doorframe. It's a familiar tune and taught in the familiar way--they'd had conversations about this before, about broken fingers and healing runes. The best kind of training.
"I could listen to you play for hours," he murmurs softly. It's a lie that hides his sudden spike of jealousy.
The familiar voice makes him smile a little. It had been a strange feeling opening up to Sebastian about things only Alec knew the full truth of, but he'd felt compelled at the time to trust him the way Alec seemed to. And hadn't that been an unexpected surprise. Alec didn't trust anyone beyond his family. Not like this.
"I imagine after the twentieth time hearing Moonlight Sonata you'd be the one trying to break my fingers." A poor joke considering, but the music matched the chaos and pain he was feeling a little too closely right then. "I could play something else." He offered, letting the last note fade and folding his hands in his lap.
"On the contrary." Sebastian's words are honeyed, careful despite the forced smile. Jace doesn't deserve to have had their father teach him. He deserves so much less. Jace doesn't deserve anything, Sebastian feels, and there's that anger bubbling up, threatening to catch fire.
Sebastian's smile widens, and he makes a gesture to the seat, a silent 'may I?' as he talks.
"The Arrival of Queen of Sheba? Handel? A brilliant duet, do you know of it?" He knows he does.
There was something in the way Sebastian spoke that quickens Jace's pulse and it's an odd mixture of danger and thrill of the hunt--or the hunted? It's the smile that he returned, real and yet still hiding the sudden suspicion he suddenly felt, as he slid to one side to give Sebastian room.
He had no reason to be suspicious, but Valentine had them all on edge lately.
"I know of it. Can you keep up?" Always a challenge. He knew it wasn't his most lovable trait, the constant desire to be the best, to win, to treat everything as a challenge. He blamed Valentine for part and the rest he knew was simply who he was. Sometimes he wondered if he had any lovable traits. And then he remembered Alec would kick his ass if could hear his thoughts.
"If you play as well as Izzy says you fight..." He smirked, fingers lightly touching the keys as he waited for Sebastian.
Sebastian laughs, humbled, thrilled, angry even if that part doesn't show, and he slides next to him so their knees touch on the small bench.
"Izzy is quite the flatterer. She knocked me down flat in less than 10 seconds the last time we sparred." It was something he certainly enjoyed--it's hard not to. Izzy is a charming girl, beautiful beyond words. Almost as beautiful as Clary.
Sebastian begins to play, and when he does, it matches Jace perfectly. They're in tandem, rhythmically, musically, and for a moment Sebastian things perhaps spiritually, too. He almost feels peaceful.
Jace doesn't miss a note, keeping steady along side Sebastian and the piece they're playing together. He's impressed. And enjoying this immensely. Including the image of Izzy putting Sebastian on his back.
"She's been trying to do that to me for years."
He's very proud of her. But he never doubted Izzy's abilities. She's always known what she wants and who she is, no apologies to anyone.
It's the mention of Clary that catches him a bit off guard, causes the cocky grin to disappear and he misses a note. Just one and he quickly compensates, falls back into the rhythmic flow of the music. But he's already given himself away with that single note and now he can hear his fathers disapproving voice, almost feel the phantom pain of a broken finger.
"I wouldn't know. Not my business anymore. But I hear she's happy."
There he is, always better, always one step ahead. Sebastian's mostly bothered by the fact that there's truth in that bravado--he is good. As good as Sebastian? Probably not.
Besides, Sebastian's won. He notices it, that little blip, that little imperfection. He notices it, and he hones in on it, because it's proof Jace isn't perfect.
When he plays, it's with more confidence than usual. That's one broken finger, Wayland. Sebastian still has all five.
"You're not the boyfriend she was telling me about?"
"If she used the word cute to describe him, absolutely not. That would be Simon."
It's an unspoken challenge the way he catches that subtle change in Sebastian's playing and Jace inhales through his nose, sharp and quick, matching him note for note. It's a slip he won't make again. Cocky and well deserving of that word. It's rare he finds anyone other than Alec and Izzy a challenge so he's equally annoyed and pleased Sebastian isn't making things easy for him.
But he does slip again, catching himself before he hits the wrong note fully because his thoughts strayed too far. He tries to tell himself it's just piano. It's just music. It's not a battle.
Sebastian's the one to stop first, and it's abrupt and purposeful, because he's stopped and is now looking at Jace.
"There's something else you're thinking about." He's not psychic, no, but he knows Jace because he knows himself--whatever strange need to win is also carved into Sebastian, etched into his heart with a knife courtesy of his father and mother.
But he smiles, he smiles and it looks like he means it--like he doesn't scoot over because he wants to wring the other's neck, but because he cares for him.
Several things seem to happen all at once, catching Jace off guard, something he's not completely sure how it makes him feel. But the music has stopped and what had been a slightly warm press of thigh against his own has suddenly become a full body presence.
Sebastian's smiling at him as if he really could hear his thoughts and Jace can't imagine a near missed note could give him away. He's always been careful not to share too much. It reminds him of Alec and the bond they've shared long before they spoke the words and drew their parabatai runes.
"I was thinking about the music." Not about Sebastian being cocky about his playing or how he'd love to take this to the training room and see how cocky he can be there.
Their knees bump each other, but Sebastian doesn't draw away. Instead, he places one of his smiles on his face, looking not flustered, but polite, like he wants to be civil when he's reigning himself in as best as he possibly could.
"I know we don't know each other well, and I wouldn't--I wouldn't want to be presumptuous, Jace, but I can't help but think that you're lying."
He licks his lips, finding them suddenly dry and cracked, before launching in before the other can stop him. "I know what it's like, to bottle things up, and it never ends well."
( clary fray trusts easily, no one can dispute that.
if nothing else, this foray into the world of magic and monsters and angels has proven once and for all that she will trust someone with her life even when it defies all logic. even when reality as she knows it is being blatantly challenged. so it makes sense, really, that she trusts sebastian. logic says she barely knows him, says none of them really know him, says he's blonde and english and there's got to be a pop culture reference about villains there, right? there's so many signs that point to at least keeping the guy at arm's length.
so, of course, she trusts him.
it's the early hours of the morning and clary can't sleep -- unsurprising, given the events of the last few days-slash-weeks-slash-months, but no less frustrating. she's made a cursory effort to bring charcoal and paper with her as she wanders the institute, but so far nothing is biting and it's more an exercise in irritation than release. this is supposed to be relaxing.
there's a kind of nook she finally settles in. there's an interesting enough view with a mix of new institute technology and old church structures, and clary has never been much into architectural painting but a change of style might be the very thing that will solve her problems for the night. people are around, the institute is never totally empty, but they're far away enough that she doesn't need to worry about trying to identify the owners of murmured conversations or echoing footsteps. it's enough to be lost in her own world, the one with a blank page and a charcoal between her fingers, poised and ready and--
nothing. )
Come on
( it's a petulant move, one she'll shamefully strike from her memory but she tosses the charcoal sharply against the ground and spits the words out through gritted teeth. she's tense, wound tight with frustration and exhaustion and all the rest, and as she gets up to fetch back the charcoal she's just so damn heavy.
it's all enough that she only notices someone approaching when they're close enough to be in serious danger of catching paper with their face, because when she realises there's someone else witnessing this almost-toddler move she swings around on her heel, journal brandished like a weapon. )
Who is th- Oh! ( and it's back to embarrassment rapidly as clary quickly withdraws her savage attack. ) Sebastian! I'm- God, I'm sorry, it's just.....been a long night?
( ...please don't have caught the whole pencil throwing thing... )
[ It's what he loves about Clary--there's a lot of things he loves about her, even if from afar, even if only meeting her in a few short days. This is one of many, how when she draws and concentrates it's nothing but her and the world, nothing but absolute calm, absolute peace, even if she's getting frustrated.
Like now, as Sebastian (he's Sebastian now, not Jonathan, he must be careful), he can't help but smile as the paper ball bounces off his right shoulder and he's met with a very frustrated, very beautiful Clary Fairchild with a journal within striking distance. ]
I'd hate to be a Shax demon that's cornered you.
[ The smile shows too much teeth, but his eyes are kind. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Jace Wayland-Lightwood-Morgenstern-Herondale-Whatever
Playing the piano brought him joy and heartache. Another thing he loved broken by his father. Valentine. And yet he played. He played and he had taught Alec to play.
He loved and he hated the piano. The way he loved and hated Valentine. The way he had loved and then hated Hodge.
~*~
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1KZ2XzTTIo
Feel free to run with this however it inspires you.
jace jacob schinglehiemer schmidt (i'm assuming this is pre-reveal for my boy)
He wears Sebastian with a strange sort of pride, walking around the Institute. People trust him. People smile at him, and he thinks he never wants to shed this skin. Not for the world.
Until he sees Jace, and it all comes crashing down. The fire burns bright the moment he lays eyes on the other, though he's gotten very good at hiding it. You learn a few things in Edom.
For now, Sebastian leans against the doorframe. It's a familiar tune and taught in the familiar way--they'd had conversations about this before, about broken fingers and healing runes. The best kind of training.
"I could listen to you play for hours," he murmurs softly. It's a lie that hides his sudden spike of jealousy.
Your name is my name too! (yes!)
"I imagine after the twentieth time hearing Moonlight Sonata you'd be the one trying to break my fingers." A poor joke considering, but the music matched the chaos and pain he was feeling a little too closely right then. "I could play something else." He offered, letting the last note fade and folding his hands in his lap.
no subject
Sebastian's smile widens, and he makes a gesture to the seat, a silent 'may I?' as he talks.
"The Arrival of Queen of Sheba? Handel? A brilliant duet, do you know of it?" He knows he does.
no subject
He had no reason to be suspicious, but Valentine had them all on edge lately.
"I know of it. Can you keep up?" Always a challenge. He knew it wasn't his most lovable trait, the constant desire to be the best, to win, to treat everything as a challenge. He blamed Valentine for part and the rest he knew was simply who he was. Sometimes he wondered if he had any lovable traits. And then he remembered Alec would kick his ass if could hear his thoughts.
"If you play as well as Izzy says you fight..." He smirked, fingers lightly touching the keys as he waited for Sebastian.
no subject
"Izzy is quite the flatterer. She knocked me down flat in less than 10 seconds the last time we sparred." It was something he certainly enjoyed--it's hard not to. Izzy is a charming girl, beautiful beyond words. Almost as beautiful as Clary.
Sebastian begins to play, and when he does, it matches Jace perfectly. They're in tandem, rhythmically, musically, and for a moment Sebastian things perhaps spiritually, too. He almost feels peaceful.
Almost.
"How are things with Clary?"
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"She's been trying to do that to me for years."
He's very proud of her. But he never doubted Izzy's abilities. She's always known what she wants and who she is, no apologies to anyone.
It's the mention of Clary that catches him a bit off guard, causes the cocky grin to disappear and he misses a note. Just one and he quickly compensates, falls back into the rhythmic flow of the music. But he's already given himself away with that single note and now he can hear his fathers disapproving voice, almost feel the phantom pain of a broken finger.
"I wouldn't know. Not my business anymore. But I hear she's happy."
Distancing himself from Clary hasn't been easy.
no subject
Besides, Sebastian's won. He notices it, that little blip, that little imperfection. He notices it, and he hones in on it, because it's proof Jace isn't perfect.
When he plays, it's with more confidence than usual. That's one broken finger, Wayland. Sebastian still has all five.
"You're not the boyfriend she was telling me about?"
no subject
It's an unspoken challenge the way he catches that subtle change in Sebastian's playing and Jace inhales through his nose, sharp and quick, matching him note for note. It's a slip he won't make again. Cocky and well deserving of that word. It's rare he finds anyone other than Alec and Izzy a challenge so he's equally annoyed and pleased Sebastian isn't making things easy for him.
But he does slip again, catching himself before he hits the wrong note fully because his thoughts strayed too far. He tries to tell himself it's just piano. It's just music. It's not a battle.
no subject
"There's something else you're thinking about." He's not psychic, no, but he knows Jace because he knows himself--whatever strange need to win is also carved into Sebastian, etched into his heart with a knife courtesy of his father and mother.
But he smiles, he smiles and it looks like he means it--like he doesn't scoot over because he wants to wring the other's neck, but because he cares for him.
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Sebastian's smiling at him as if he really could hear his thoughts and Jace can't imagine a near missed note could give him away. He's always been careful not to share too much. It reminds him of Alec and the bond they've shared long before they spoke the words and drew their parabatai runes.
"I was thinking about the music." Not about Sebastian being cocky about his playing or how he'd love to take this to the training room and see how cocky he can be there.
no subject
"I know we don't know each other well, and I wouldn't--I wouldn't want to be presumptuous, Jace, but I can't help but think that you're lying."
He licks his lips, finding them suddenly dry and cracked, before launching in before the other can stop him. "I know what it's like, to bottle things up, and it never ends well."
gimme mr. fake news
if nothing else, this foray into the world of magic and monsters and angels has proven once and for all that she will trust someone with her life even when it defies all logic. even when reality as she knows it is being blatantly challenged. so it makes sense, really, that she trusts sebastian. logic says she barely knows him, says none of them really know him, says he's blonde and english and there's got to be a pop culture reference about villains there, right? there's so many signs that point to at least keeping the guy at arm's length.
so, of course, she trusts him.
it's the early hours of the morning and clary can't sleep -- unsurprising, given the events of the last few days-slash-weeks-slash-months, but no less frustrating. she's made a cursory effort to bring charcoal and paper with her as she wanders the institute, but so far nothing is biting and it's more an exercise in irritation than release. this is supposed to be relaxing.
there's a kind of nook she finally settles in. there's an interesting enough view with a mix of new institute technology and old church structures, and clary has never been much into architectural painting but a change of style might be the very thing that will solve her problems for the night. people are around, the institute is never totally empty, but they're far away enough that she doesn't need to worry about trying to identify the owners of murmured conversations or echoing footsteps. it's enough to be lost in her own world, the one with a blank page and a charcoal between her fingers, poised and ready and--
nothing. )
Come on
( it's a petulant move, one she'll shamefully strike from her memory but she tosses the charcoal sharply against the ground and spits the words out through gritted teeth. she's tense, wound tight with frustration and exhaustion and all the rest, and as she gets up to fetch back the charcoal she's just so damn heavy.
it's all enough that she only notices someone approaching when they're close enough to be in serious danger of catching paper with their face, because when she realises there's someone else witnessing this almost-toddler move she swings around on her heel, journal brandished like a weapon. )
Who is th- Oh! ( and it's back to embarrassment rapidly as clary quickly withdraws her savage attack. ) Sebastian! I'm- God, I'm sorry, it's just.....been a long night?
( ...please don't have caught the whole pencil throwing thing... )
no subject
Like now, as Sebastian (he's Sebastian now, not Jonathan, he must be careful), he can't help but smile as the paper ball bounces off his right shoulder and he's met with a very frustrated, very beautiful Clary Fairchild with a journal within striking distance. ]
I'd hate to be a Shax demon that's cornered you.
[ The smile shows too much teeth, but his eyes are kind. ]
Something on your mind?
og seb and danny
I wasn't aware that was a thing.
Should I be congratulating you on the threesome, or gently pointing out that we've never slept together?
no subject
It wasn’t a threesome. Just
snuggling
Forget these texts
1/2
2/2
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