heronchild bot

matthew fairchild and james herondale quotes from the shadowhunter chronicles by cassandra clare | icon: @nairafeather

[heronchild bot @heronchildbot]

— quote bot for james herondale and matthew fairchild

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His voice was hoarse. “James is my parabatai,” he said. “And I love him.”

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James’s mouth curved up into a smile. It was impossible to stay angry with Matthew. It was almost impossible to get angry at Matthew.

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“When we were younger—James had this shirt, just an ordinary shirt, and Mam threw it away because he’d outgrown it and he was so furious and went to fetch it from the rubbish. It was the shirt he was wearing when Matthew asked him to be parabatai. He wouldn’t get rid of it.”

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“Jamie,” he said. “My heart. My parabatai.”

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James eyed him; there was always love in the way he looked at Matthew, but it was mixed now with worry.

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“you feel his pain, don’t you? If his heart shatters, does yours shatter? Does he feel what you feel? Because I can see how that might be awkward.”

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He helped himself to a kipper from James’s untouched plate before announcing, “I have news.”

“Please make yourself at home, my delinquent friend,” James said.

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Hands caught his wrists; he was hauled up roughly, an arm around his back. Brandy and cologne.

“Matthew,” he said, in a dry voice.

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The four of them argued or fought very rarely, and James and Matthew almost never.

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“You might have asked to see her before booking her,” James said.

He’d meant it as a joke, but Matthew looked wounded. “I made an effort,” he protested.

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“Sorry. I know why you’re concerned. She said she needed to speak with me before the ceremony, that’s all.”

“Don’t,” said Matthew. “Whatever she has to say will only hurt you. It’s all she ever does.”

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“Friends! This evening my parabatai, James Jeremiah Jehoshaphat Herondale, celebrates his last night as a single man!”

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James started to grin as Matthew swaggered into the dining room, a spring in his step.

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He heard voices before his vision cleared, Matthew’s rising above the other two: “James? Jamie!”

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“Don’t let me interrupt.” James made a face at Matthew in response to his glare; he felt a parabatai’s duties ended where arguments with one’s mother began.

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“You went shadowy,” Matthew said, his voice low, “as if you were going to disappear, as if I’d wished you gone and you were vanishing—”

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“This was London, not some blasted landscape of hellish death and destruction.”

“Unless you are talking about Piccadilly Circus when the traffic’s bad,” said Matthew.

“I am going to ignore that comment,” said James, “as it is not helpful.”

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“You are right, of course; it is only perhaps that we worry that you are too honest—too good, and goodness can be a blade sharp enough to cut, you know, just as much as evil intent.”

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“Very well. As your suggenes, it is my job to help you. I will withhold my judgment. Whatever you may need, I can see it is not that.”

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He smelled like Matthew always did—cologne and brandy, singed with a bit of smoke and sawdust.