Sonnet: Beauty Of Her Face |hisguardixnangel|
The empty streets were void of noise, with the exception of the occasional car or siren passing the the distance. A slight fog breezed over the moonlit walkways and dampened golden locks of hair that bobbed up and down. Measured breathes sweeped in and out a war raged body, each step consuming the energy that was given out by stamina runes burned into the golden boy's skin.
Although fatigue ebbed at him and his body ached from wounds received during his travel he was determined to reach his destination, to reach the one thing he'd risked his entire life for. If this was his last night on Earth he'd gladly accept it if it meant he got to see his Polaris; that which granted him guidance and never wavering strength, no matter how far from it he may be, Polaris always shined bright with the memory of safety and true love.
His pace picked up at the sight of familiar gates, the high steeples menacingly hovering over him, their gothic architecture more somber than he'd last remembered them to be in the hours of the night.
His hands trembled as his hands clasped around iron bars, their frigid temperature arising goosebumps on his arms. Golden hues looked across them, remembering the months spent in cold cellars and how shadows seemed to move about him, never seeming to do him harm but echoing words and memories he'd soon rather forget.
Heaving a sigh he pushed forward, thanking the angel Raziel that the hinges didn't squeak and as his soundless footsteps hurried over wet grass, the fog slowly begun to twist into drizzle, and as he made his way to the wall he knew Polaris was located over he began to climb, fingers gripping tightly onto the bricked wall, and boots fastening onto it as it was slowly starting to slick over with water.
He needed to get to her... soon...
Seconds that felt like hours passed as he skillfully made it onto a windowsill. And he peered inside, his heart thrumming at the sight of the sleeping figure before him. His Polaris.
"For certain he hath seen all perfectness, who among other ladies hath seen mine..." He murmured out the poem he'd long ago memorized, his hands working to mark an unlocking rune onto the window. "They that go with her humbly should combine, to thank their God for such peculiar grace." He continued, pushing the window inward and slowly climbing inside, closing it behind him.
Jace Herondale took in the sleeping figure of the one person he never thought he'd see again and his heart threatened to burst from his chest as his ears rung and chest rose and fell heavily. Yet he stayed silent... slowly making his way towards her bed, and sitting next to her huddled body.
"So perfect is the beauty of her face, that is begets in no wise any sigh..." He whispered, brushing away gently at a lock of vibrant red hair. The moon shadowed Clary's face that left the part of her that was lit up, making her look angelic. He'd dreamed of her this way... remembering the night they'd spent together in the Glass City. On good days, he could almost make himself believe he would return to her, drawing out their days as shadowhunters and eventually settling down, "Of envy, but draws round her a clear line of love, and blessed faith, and gentleness..." he told himself one day he would see her like this every morning... the light on her soft cheekbones and long dark lashes feathered out over freckles that could depict their own constellations...
But no such thing would come... not now anyways...
"Merely the sight of her makes all things bow; not she herself alone is holier than all..." A small smile curled his lips as he felt his heavy body breath a sigh of relief, he'd seen his Polaris once more...
Come tomorrow, when the Clave realized he'd escaped their prison he'd be sought out and they would come to ask Clary if she had anything to do with his actions, but she'd be telling the truth when she said she had no idea what had happened, because he'd only meant to see her tonight, even if he couldn't kiss or talk to her for fear of putting her danger...
"From all her acts such lovely graces flow, that truly one may never think of her without a passion of exceeding love." He murmured, leaning down to kiss her temple for hesitating and retreating rapidly, opening the window silently and perching onto the windowsill.
The drizzle had turned into thunderous rain and it slapped at Jace's face, his blond locks looked like a pale halo around his head and he glanced over his shoulder once more before climbing out and shutting the window quietly.
He let himself jump off from where he balanced, body screaming for him to stop the abuse. He was more than tired. But he needed to get away... He'd come back eventually... if he lived through tomorrow, he'd vow to come back. Until then he'd run...
