Overture Downs Alone under a thousand souls

She doesn't know why she tells him this; there is no reason, and maybe it is unwise, but these thoughts are her heart, and to share them is simply who she is. She has never found reason to hide herself before; in grief and in joy, Clary has always worn her heart right where the world can see.

Yet in his voice is a heaviness, and she worries that maybe she has stepped too far. Inwardly, she berates herself. Of course he would be upset - this kind of stuff isn't what you just run around and talk about with strangers, and gosh, she should have known that! But even before she can turn to the man to offer him reassurance that she is okay, his voice booms in a measure filled with so much anger and so much pain, that she feels his emotions spill into the night and swallow her.

She has never witnessed something so raw before, not from her family, and certainly not from someone she has known only for a minute, and the loudest voice inside her screams "RUN!" - but Clary ignores the slam of her aunt's voice inside her skull, and though her ears slick back, she steels herself. No - she decides; she can't just leave him. And as he shakes and settles, and the echo of his bitter cry bleeds into the night, she finds herself with no words to say - but she doesn't leave him.

Her heart aches for him, and though she doesn't understand the extent of his pain, she pauses, thinks, and shifts toward him with the careful stretch of her neck, hoping to meet his shoulder in a gentle touch. The motion is small, and filled with risk. He could turn his fangs against her - but, if he is alone, if he hasn't felt the contact of another for many, many nights, maybe this is what he needs, and this is all she knows how to offer.