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✞ When the Thunder Calls for Me • Will, Tessa, Jem
When the Thunder Calls for Me
Will, Tessa, Jem
• 566 words
• to the prompts free and liberation
Magnus always said the hardest part of living forever was starting over.
People you love will die. People you know will start to suspect. You have to cut ties, to move on, to start again somewhere else where no one knows your name because you're too pretty and young and different to let anyone see the real you. The only ones you know you'll see again are those like you, but you can't trust them. When a man lives forever, it does not take all that long for what is human inside of him to wither away.
Something happened, the day that William Herondale died.
There was a Shadowhunter funeral that Tessa was not invited to, though her children were. They were about as old as she looked, and it had been a secret for so long, that they were hers. The laws were the laws. The laws did not bend, even for the best of Shadowhunters and the kindest of warlocks and their little patchwork family. Downworlder was Downworlder, descended from Shadowhunters or no.
She wandered the streets of London and thought about death. Many years ago, she'd done the exact same thing, trod the same paths, only there had been someone beside her, holding her hand. They had both mourned for the boy they loved, and it was there, on Blackfriar's Bridge where Tessa could sometimes still hear his sweet voice, that they had vowed to love each other as best they could, without him.
Now, she was alone.
She could feel in the crawling, whispering stares of the people who lived here that she would not be able to stay. They knew her, vaguely, or remembered being children and seeing this same tragically beautiful woman in her black clothes of mourning. London was home no longer. And truly, without Jem and Will, it wouldn't've mattered how many people stared. She could not stay here.
There were no goodbyes. No farewells. Henry and Charlotte had long ago retired to Idris, leaving the Institute in Will and Jessamine's capable hands. Jessamine in turn had left for Italy, and now the Institute passed to Gideon Lightwood and his enormous, brawling family tree. There was no one to say goodbye to.
Tessa found it very odd, to be on a train headed somewhere she'd never been before, entirely of her own volition. Very odd, that she had lived over half a century and this was something she'd never done before.
Odd, that she was alone, and free, and how heavy this freedom felt.
She held no resentment to the two beautiful men who had owned her life from the moment she'd met them. By all accounts, she should have - Will, for hurting her for so long and loving her for longer, for being perfect and terrible all in one - and Jem, for being the only thing Will and Tessa had agreed on.
She was a free woman, now. She would stand tall, proud, live her life on her own terms, be her own savior and protector and hero. She was Tessa Gray, wasn't she? She would be Tessa Gray for the next foreseeable eternity.
She was no longer Tessa Carstairs, no longer Tessa Herondale.
No. She could not resent them - not for loving her, not for giving up their lives for her. Only for leaving.
Will, Tessa, Jem
• 566 words
• to the prompts free and liberation
Magnus always said the hardest part of living forever was starting over.
People you love will die. People you know will start to suspect. You have to cut ties, to move on, to start again somewhere else where no one knows your name because you're too pretty and young and different to let anyone see the real you. The only ones you know you'll see again are those like you, but you can't trust them. When a man lives forever, it does not take all that long for what is human inside of him to wither away.
Something happened, the day that William Herondale died.
There was a Shadowhunter funeral that Tessa was not invited to, though her children were. They were about as old as she looked, and it had been a secret for so long, that they were hers. The laws were the laws. The laws did not bend, even for the best of Shadowhunters and the kindest of warlocks and their little patchwork family. Downworlder was Downworlder, descended from Shadowhunters or no.
She wandered the streets of London and thought about death. Many years ago, she'd done the exact same thing, trod the same paths, only there had been someone beside her, holding her hand. They had both mourned for the boy they loved, and it was there, on Blackfriar's Bridge where Tessa could sometimes still hear his sweet voice, that they had vowed to love each other as best they could, without him.
Now, she was alone.
She could feel in the crawling, whispering stares of the people who lived here that she would not be able to stay. They knew her, vaguely, or remembered being children and seeing this same tragically beautiful woman in her black clothes of mourning. London was home no longer. And truly, without Jem and Will, it wouldn't've mattered how many people stared. She could not stay here.
There were no goodbyes. No farewells. Henry and Charlotte had long ago retired to Idris, leaving the Institute in Will and Jessamine's capable hands. Jessamine in turn had left for Italy, and now the Institute passed to Gideon Lightwood and his enormous, brawling family tree. There was no one to say goodbye to.
Tessa found it very odd, to be on a train headed somewhere she'd never been before, entirely of her own volition. Very odd, that she had lived over half a century and this was something she'd never done before.
Odd, that she was alone, and free, and how heavy this freedom felt.
She held no resentment to the two beautiful men who had owned her life from the moment she'd met them. By all accounts, she should have - Will, for hurting her for so long and loving her for longer, for being perfect and terrible all in one - and Jem, for being the only thing Will and Tessa had agreed on.
She was a free woman, now. She would stand tall, proud, live her life on her own terms, be her own savior and protector and hero. She was Tessa Gray, wasn't she? She would be Tessa Gray for the next foreseeable eternity.
She was no longer Tessa Carstairs, no longer Tessa Herondale.
No. She could not resent them - not for loving her, not for giving up their lives for her. Only for leaving.