The light of a crescent moon (Cain)

[Mariska Rumancek]

Harvelle's was a homely bar on the outskirts of New York, it was small and dark, but warm and the staff were always inviting. The walls were lined with booths that had cusioned benches and sturdy oak tables. There were candles on each table and hanging from fixtures on the walls. There was a smell of cigarette smoke in the air, almost masked by the insence burning on the bar.
It was late evening when Mariska entered, a crescent moon just visible in the sky. The place was only just beginning to fill with customers. Nobody paid much notice to her as she took a seat.
A few hours and drinks later, Mariska swirled the dregs of her drink as she sat on a stool in front of the bar. Her father had sent her to Harvelle's to wait for his arrival. He had called her a few hours earlier, sounding urgent and worried. It was their nature to be laid back people, so her fathers tone had worried her considerably.
She had been waiting for over two hours now, growing increasingly anxious as the minutes passed. It was unlike her father to go off the radar like this with explanation, something had scared him, and that in turn scared Mariska.
She had been separated from her family for some time now, as her mother had grown ill with some mysterious illness, and Mariska and her brother were roaming the country looking for an explanation or cure. She hated being separated from her loved ones, but if it meant restoring her mothers health, it would be worth it.
She tipped her glass to the bartender, signalling for another drink. She began to trace spirals into the bar top with her nail, almost completely zoning out to the world around her.
When she looked up, there was a young man sitting on the stool beside her, watching her with an amused expression.
'See something you like?', she snapped, taking a swig of her drink.

[Cain Samuel]

The streets that bordered the outskirts of New York had always reminded Cain of Alicante, how the streets narrowed in to the depths of the city, each singular path leading to its own destination. The air was filled with smoke and pollution as the shadowy figure, dressed in all black everything, hurried down the same narrow street he had been doing for the past few months. The street cut across a singular bridge that the Tenmile River ran beneath and through the entryways in-between the stone buildings and lopsided bars, Cain could barely notice the shadowy outlines of the docked ships that he could usually see if it had not been today, for today the city was covered in a foggy blanket.

Being in New York at this moment in time had been a risk to begin with. The New York Institute was just a mile away from where Cain was heading and he had to remain hidden in the shadows of the big city, he had to be everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. Jonathan had made Cain swear by the name of the Angel that he would keep his eyes focused and his ears open for any insight on what Jace Herondale and the rest of his ruthless little entourage had been planning since they had left the body of the Penhallow girl on the steps of the Institute.

It had been only a couple of nights ago, the night had been young and the moon had casted a glow on the city of New York. Sabina had been the one to lure her in, and Cain remembered her helpless screams when Jonathan had killed her. They were the kind of screams that one might conjure up from a nightmare. Each singular scream had been deafening and filled the empty streets of New York as her blood spilled rapidly on to the cobbles of the shipping dock where Jonathan had slashed and slashed away at her body with a knife and the girls tears, fell from her wide innocent eyes and mixed in with her blood. Her eyes had told a thousand and one stories as Cain watched. He did not know the girl, or had never even met her before but he saw her as she was then, and as she was now - he saw her as a child, training to be one day a fine shadowhunter like her mother and father, he saw her gain her first runes and the big smile as she hugged her family who had came to watch, he saw her happiness when she killed her first demon. Cain saw everything. And now, he saw the life leave her eyes. It had been a message that needed to be sent that the new Circle was not playing around and a worthwhile message at that. It was a satisfying moment, knowing that the life of this one weak Nephilim would shatter so many hearts. Cain himself had been the one to take her body to the Institute and leave it on the steps out in the cold and he had been the one watch from a distance when Maryse Lightwood had opened the door to find the body and he had been the one watch as she stumbled back inside the doors and scream terrible murder.

Snapping back in to reality, Cain grunted softy as a group of drunken mundanes pushed by him but they could not see Cain as he was covered by the glamour. He resisted the urge to grab each one of them by their long overcoats and throw every one of them into the River Tensmiles and laugh incredulously as they all drowned as they were clearly too drunk to know they would meet their inanimate deaths.

Cain smiled softy as he saw his favourite bar come into sight. It had been days since he had last had something alcoholic to kill the buzz of watching Jonathan savage the Penhallow girl beyond recognition and Cain had been parched ever since. Harvelle's was a tiny bar, mostly filled with downworlders and occasionally the odd vampire would turn up asking for a blood bag. Cain recalled the last memory of a blood thirsty vampire who was in need of a blood bag. Sabina had told the vampire girl that she looked like terrible and that she looked like death. Holding back a laugh, Cain entered the bar and was welcomed with the same rope, smoke and tar smell mixed in with the dirty river smell he remembered. As quick and swift as possible, Cain walked to and took a seat at the bar and removed his long black coat and slung it over the back of his chair.

After a few shots and spirits, Cain did a double take on the girl who had been sitting beside him all this time. Well, she wasn't necessarily a girl, but one of the lycanthropes. Cain arched an eyebrow at her and let a smile appear on his features as she tapped annoyingly on the bar with her fingernails, impatiently indicating to the bar man that she would like another drink.

Cain trained his eyes on the werewolf girl, and made sure that he kept a sharp eye for any sudden movements when she looked up at him from beneath her long thick black eyelashes. He knew it was just a matter of moments before she could see the runes that covered his hands and arms. Blinking as he spoke back to the wolf, he studied her for a long moment.
"Not necessarily", he said, "Here alone? A woman as beautiful and attractive as you I would never of had down for a lone wolf." The werewolf joke was an old one, but Cain didn't care, this would pass his time for the rest of today..

[Mariska Rumancek]

'I assure you I can look after myself, Shadowhunter.' Mariska said, almost spitting the word at him. She wasn't the biggest fan of the Nephilim. Prancing around, believing themselves to be superior to all Downworlders. She could smell this ones ego before he even opened the door. The way he spoke, even the way he dressed, just dripped arrogance. Even if he wasn't a Shadowhunter, she probably wouldn't have gotten on particularly well with this man.
Not that she did get on well with a lot of people. Due to her upbringing, she had moved around a lot. Never settling in one place for too long. When she was younger, Mariska did attend the local school wherever they were, as much as possible. But, following her transformation, this had become difficult. In her early days, all her emotions had been heightened sevenfold, especially her temper. This had led to her breaking many a piece of furniture. She was lucky though, that it was only furniture she had destroyed. It was difficult to restrain a werewolf, even a little one, even if they are in human form. Her brother had handled his transition so much better. He had always been stronger willed than she had been, and the fact that he had chosen Lycanthropy must have made it easier. He knew what was happening, what to expect. It hadn't been thrust on him like the curse it truly was.
A choice was more than most got.
Mariska did resent the Shadowhunters somewhat. They had no transformation. No suffering or struggle. They were born into what they are. They were generally well off, and regardless of what they feed to the Downworlders about equality, they controlled the shadow world and everything and everyone in it. It was a privileged life, and they all took full advantage.
Mariska had been thought to respect and be kind to those who did you the same courtesy. Generally, though through gritted teeth and obvious distaste, any Shadowhunters she had come across before had been friendly, this one was different.

[Cain Samuel]

Cain smiled a devilish smile. "A werewolf with a temper, how...cliche? The outburst had been less than expected to Cain, most lycanthropes was known for their severely reckless and ill mannered behaviour. It amused him however, to poke fun at them from time to time as he could not take the vampires nor the werewolf's seriously even at the best of times. It had always been interesting to Cain that the werewolf's and the vampires hatred from one another stemmed from the reason that they was destined to be rivalries but Cain thought that they were both more alike than any other race in the shadow world. Where the vampires had superhuman strength, so did the werewolves and they were both formidable predators and they both liked to gauge on human flesh and of course, they both hated Nephilim.

"The Children of the Moon are a fascinating race" said Cain and although he knew full well that this girl would not particularly care what he had to think or say, he continued anyway as he often liked to speak about what was on his mind to complete strangers as he could not do so at the manor. "The Praetor Lupus has always aided your kind in finding out who they are after their first transformation when a full moon is evident but typical ordinary mundanes who have inherited the sight from previous generations before them? Nothing, we have no secretive organisation from the 1800's to guide us for us Nephilim are strong enough to look after ourselves, trust ourselves enough to make our own decisions about who we truly are."
Cain ponded over the thoughts that had erupted his mind and he looked back up at the girls face and was not at all surprised that she looked both angry and confused.
"How about a drink, on me?" offered Cain, not being able to hide his obvious attraction to this filthy animal..