What A Cliche!

7

W I L L ' S P O I N T O F V I E W

After I filled Jace in about basically everything we left the library and headed to the training room to have a friendly spar to let out a little anger.

I swear my cousin seems to get a little more skilled every time we see each other which seems nearly impossible seen as he is the best ShadowHunter of his generation.

He is only about 6 years younger than me and no 18-year-old Shadowhunter that I have ever encountered has been even half as skilled as he is.

After we had played around for a little in the training room, Jace told me about a party that he and his fellow hunters were going to. Not so much a party as much as it was a facade in order to kill some demons that were planning on a raid at the club it was held at.

He said they were planning on leaving about 9 pm and he left our no doubt titillating session at about 8:30 to get ready.

He offered me an invitation to come but I kindly denied it as I would rather stay here and inspect all the books I was able to steal from their library.

C L A R Y ' S P O I N T O F V I E W

When Izzy decided that we were finally finished trying on all the clothes she managed to fit in her room, we were ready to go out to the club.

It was about 9:16 and apparently, she told the two boys that we would be ready at 8:45.

She was wrong.

When I left Izzy's room, I went back to my own to get a few more weapons. Don't get me wrong, the sparkly pink dagger that she handed me with a faux fur handle was fine but I just don't think it was functional but I feel like if I told her that, she would show me that it is.

When I got back to my room, I slowly pushed the door open and almost forgot what it looked like.

It was so odd.

To see a room that you know nothing of and knows nothing of you. A bed that you have never slept in, the floor where you have never cried on, the walls that have never embraced your constant punching, the door that has never endured your slamming, the windows that have never admired your gazes, the fireplace that has never been near your warmth and the mirror that has never been graced by your reflection.

The mirror

Clary straightened herself in the floor-length mirror that graced the far right wall of her room.

Forget about the room, she thought. You yourself look odd.

She examined herself in the reflection of the mirror.

She was wearing a sleek black dress that was able to hug ever so slightly her basically invisible curves. Her autumn coloured hair was spread across her shoulders and shoulder blades like wildfire that had engulfed a forest. The heeled boots that she wore were able to give the illusion that she wasn't as tall as a sunflower. There was only a small amount of makeup on Clary, despite Izzy's arguments but Clary could still see it. Her eyelashes tickled her high cheekbones. The blush she wore made her cheeks look even redder than the time she dropped a knife in a training session in front of her father. The pale gloss she wore on her lips was sticky but sweet.

She pushed down any sense of vanity and turned away from the mirror.

Instead, she went to one of her drawers and put on a thigh sheath which she stuck a beautiful blade in. In her boots, she stuck a dagger in each of them. These boots were also modified, obviously, and had been made to look like regular heeled boots when really the heel of the boot was a detachable knife, which was always handy. Clary placed a few throwing stars below her neck, placed carefully on her spine, in between her shoulder blades. As long as she kept her hair down, she figured they would stay hidden behind the flames that were her hair.