West of Words (Alec Lightwood)

🗝 Chapter One 🗝

Varian Fairchild was decidedly happy.

Out of every outlook on life that he could have, he chooses optimism. It is so much easier to recognize how others are struggling when your mind is clear from worry.

Varian is simply put, an Empath.

He can sense the emotions of everyone around him, and while in a lot situations he finds it a pleasant thing, it can be very overwhelming. Which is why he has his shop.

Le Petit Feu  is a bakery, a cafe, and a bookstore, it's literally everything he's always loved. His regulars love the shop just as much as him, and tended to not be bothered by the odd hours he's open. Whether it's from a much normal time of 10 a.m to 6 p.m, or a much worse time like 3 p.m to 4:30 p.m on every second Sunday for two months.

It appears as what everyone needs right when they need it, including for Varian. Most days it distracts him from everything else going on in his life and he finds it peaceful.

That is until something happens (as it always does) to mess up the peace and stability in his life.

Sometimes it was a demon attack, or a pack member in need, a vampire stuck in the sun, or a Seelie whose beauty was marred. Varian helps however he can, but he's no Warlock.

He's the opposite in fact, despite who raised him. His father, or, adoptive father is Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and he's the one to raise him in such a way to be a friend to everyone.

The part that makes him an opposite is the blood that runs through his veins. His dad is half demon-blooded and half-human. Varian is suppose to be half-Angel, half-human, but at a young age he was experimented on by the father he never knew which left him with more Angel blood than human, and a few extra gifts as well. Including the rare fact that he was a Secondhand Warlock, something that made him unique in every aspect of life.

And Varian wasn't ashamed of this fact.

Sure, he wasn't exactly open about it, but he wasn't ashamed. Those that know him well know his story to some degree, and that's how he'd like to leave it.

He knows his past, and if anything he wishes he didn't.

Varian Fairchild is from a long line of proud Shadowhunters, until his mother married his father and he led the family astray. None of this was a secret to Varian, Magnus told him everything at the age of seven, (because he's always hated lying), and every choice afterwards was Varian's, and Magnus has always promised to believe in whatever decision he makes.

And Varian decided to be who he was today. He saw no reason to join the Shadowhunters, and so he didn't. It's really quite simple.

But given the fact that Shadowhunters are naturally agile and built for fighting he couldn't ignore that part of him forever. So he boxes, and spars, and fences, and does anything to burn the excess energy that he has.

He trained in that way, and in the way of magic, his baba  taught him everything he knew, but that didn't mean there wasn't more to learn.

And suddenly his neighbor above him dropped something, or made some loud noise and Varian was on edge, his thoughts interrupted by the sudden noise and everything in him poised to listen. He reached out, mentally of course, feeling the emotions of his neighbors around him to see if any bore any hostility towards him or anyone in the building.

It came away clear, and he couldn't help but visibly relax, pressing his hands into the counter top to push himself up and grab something off the top shelf. Varian sighed when he landed back on the ground, shaking the box of tea in his hand as he moved towards his kettle.

His apartment was reasonably quiet, given the fact that he was the only person who lived there, the only real sound coming from the kettle as it started to boil and the very  old record player in the corner of his living room. A gift from his baba  when he moved in a nearly two years ago.

The kettle clicked off, and moments later Varian was holding a steaming cup of earl gray and was making his way into the back room of his apartment. The one room that technically wasn't suppose to be there and only existed because of Varian's baba  enchanting the room for him.

It was a work room of sorts.

The walls were decorated with scraps of papers from throughout his life, potions he created, spells that he made for his baba, everything in the room had a purpose. It was his side job, and the job that tended to bring in a little more money than his mundane job.

Varian usually has a steady stream of clients, a various mixture of Seelie, Vampires, Werewolves, and the occasional Shadowhunter, though rarely do they seek the assistance of who they believe to be Downworlders.

And those times that his baba  shows up at his door unannounced and looking for help?

Entirely free, not that Varian exactly minded, he loves what he does, plus his father always replenishes his supplies after asking for a favor.

Just as Varian started to work (he had barely had a few sips of his tea) when he was interrupted by a pounding on his door.

It was an aggressive kind of pounding, but there was no true aggression behind it. The sound echoed through his apartment, but did not tamper with the wards in a way that was threatening. Varian set his cup of tea down, maybe a bit to hard, and started to the front door of his apartment.

He paused by the door, looking through the little peep hole before smiling brightly.

"I'd like to think your visit was friendly baba." Varian had barely opened the door before the sarcastic line left his mouth, and suddenly the humor was gone from his eyes. By opening the door he was flooded with emotions from the group that accompanied his baba. Confusion, worry, fear, but above it all pain.

It was overbearing, so much so that Varian had to struggle to push it all away and get to work. Varian moved quickly, pulling the door the rest of the way open but stopping himself from stepping outside of his wards.

"In, in." Varian motioned for them to come inside, before making his way as fast as he could into the living room. He cursed himself under his breath for buying a white couch, but ignored that, moving to throw all of the pillows off to make a space for the injured member of the party.

Varian turned, looking at those that joined his baba  with what he wished was a hopeful smile.