[ Tracking was second nature to John, at this point of his life. A skill finely tuned, well honed by time and practice - from the Marines to the Underground, it was a part of him, as much as his heritage was.
Which is why he could track something he couldn't see. Which is why he ended up almost dying - something he sometimes thought impossible - and being rescued by a beautiful girl. Really, in his life? A standard occurrence, nowadays.
But then she'd disappeared. She'd used a weapon, not a Mutant power, and she'd seemed to be able to see whatever it was that attacked him.
He'd been easy, to catch a scent. He caught enough of her that he could just track her through the city if he wanted to, but he decided not to - easier to just find her when she wanted, and he had a job to do. But he picked her back up that evening, and it was just a short drive until he made it to the woods, pulling his hair up into a bun as he steps int the clearing. ]
(hi, he says, and the word drapes over her like a thick shawl, warm and comforting; her head tilts to the side, braid hanging heavy against her shoulder as she lets her gaze flick up to his. ) Hello yourself, ( murmured in a lazy drawl, casual as ever. as if she hasn't been waiting half an hour in a clearing just before twilight, feeling particularly like a brontë sisters' heroine in the process. )
I see you've managed to keep yourself alive this evening. I'm impressed.
( which is true, to an extent. she can only assume that his prior damsel in distress scenario could only be one of accidental circumstance, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time; she doesn't expect the downworlders of georgia to track down a would-be victim. but still — mundanes have such bad luck when it comes to staying alive these days. )
[ Raising an eyebrow, there's a flash of indignation that rushes up his veins before he stomps it out - she did save him. Yet, he can't quite help the slight annoyance in his words. ]
Funnily enough, I've managed for the past 35 years, without your help.
[ Sighing, he lets it drop, his expression softening. ]
But thank you, for the other night. Contrary to your beliefs, I don't think my life was in danger - [ Because, indestructible - ] - but it doesn't change the fact that you got me out of a sticky situation.
[ He pauses for a moment, looking at the woman in front of him, straight on. ]
So... what are you, exactly? No offense, but you're apparently able to see stuff others can't, and you're a highly skilled fighter. Are you a Mutant? [ He doesn't add too at the end of his sentence, but it's implied. ]
( his indignation is easy to read — it's clear in the quick raise of his brow, however minute a motion, and in the glimmer of something rash and defensive in his eyes, an indication of pride jostled by their previous meeting. she's used to that. men often don't like being bested by a woman, even less so by a beautiful one, and isabelle has enjoyed the satisfaction of earning their ire many a time on the sparring floor.
but a thank you, however reticently given, is worlds above the grumbled stay well and other platitudes usually given after a match. it's a courtesy she's not often extended, especially by mundanes... even ones who call her a mutant. while she appreciates the gesture, she can't hide the tone of reproach that slips into her voice in her reply. )
A mutant? By the angel, no, I'm no such thing. ( she supposes you could call shadowhunters mutated in some way, modified by sheer angelic force and their own runic adjustments, but mutant just seems crass. ) But don't feel discouraged — demons aren't often seen by mundanes unless they want to be. I'd imagine the Eidolon wanted to eat you, not have you over for tea.
[ Now, the disapproval is evident in his voice, and his stance. He tenses immediately, as he usually does when finding himself faced with prejudiced people who think of him and his as things. Beneath humans.
Even if she didn't mean it that way, it stings all the same, as does her condescending tone. He has to swallow the fuck you that sits on the tip of his tongue, that Lorna or Marcos would probably have thrown at her face. ]
Look, I don't know who you think you are, or what you are, but I am perfectly able to defend myself, and whatever it was that attacked me, it would have had a hard time getting to eat me.
[ Crossing his arms over his chest, he gives the woman a look, extremely unimpressed. ]
You're this condescending to everyone you meet, or is it just 'mundanes' that you treat this way?
( now it's her turn for a furrowed brow, mouth pulling into a taut line as her own self-control works to school her features into an expression more uninterested than hurt. she hadn't meant to insinuate anything lesser of him, but mutant wasn't exactly a kind expression in isabelle's book.
it made her think of the circle and their experimentations, the dangerous blend of man's ambition and greed and the heavenly powers funneled through the mortal cup. those were mutants. terrifying, tortured, and traumatized — but not the same as the man before her. there was no angry red ring burned into flesh, no power-mad gleam in his eyes, just affront and indignation smoldering a path across his body. )
Had you met an Eidolon before, you might be a little less confident about that. ( but whether or not the demon would make a quick snack of the man is really beside the point, and so she lets it drop. the press of her lips softens to a gentle touch, tip of her tongue darting out to moisten what's gone dry — something that seems impossible, given the weight of the moisture in the air — before she speaks again. ) The demon's not the point.
( fortunately for all involved, isabelle's not so self-involved or self-absorbed to purposely avoiding an apology when one is warranted. it bites at her pride a bit, but she can manage enough to move forward. )
My name is Isabelle Lightwood, and I am a Shadowhunter. ( a moment for the dramatic flourish; a sweep of her hand pushes her braid over her shoulder, revealing the arc of the rune that sprawls up her neck and over the path of her collarbone. one of many, dark black marks that crisscross over her body, peeking out from under shades of black. there's a theme here. ) Mundanes are our word for those that need protection.
( perhaps that's not exactly true of the man before her all the time, but at least the night before. )
For the record, I was trying to save your life, not belittle it.
If you knew me at all, you might be a bit more confident than that.
[ It's an immediate response, one that he can't help, but he allows the subject to be dropped after that, lets his arms uncross, make himself look less on the defensive.
After all, what follows out of her mouth is a lot more interesting than squabbling over whether or not he or a demon would win in a fight.
He lets the words sink in, swallowing down some primary thoughts without giving them any time - they're unkind, and unfair. If she's here to protect people, then they are on the same side. ]
John Proudstar. And I'm no mundane. I'm a Mutant.
[ When he says the word, he holds it with pride. He's not one of those that believe they are so apart from the rest of humanity they can't live peacefully together, but he is as proud of what he is as he is of his Apache heritage. ]
And for the record, I am pretty much indestructible. [ He smiles. ] But still, I very much appreciate your help. It got dicey.
( there's a passage in the gray book that isabelle is fond of, one that often gets translated into different languages and drafted up in the family homes of shadowhunter clans — it talks of protection being a two-way street, that the skills and honors bestowed by the angel require not only action and valor but compassion and humility as well. it had been a passage her father had been fond of, and like many things, isabelle and her father agreed on this too.
so it's with the thought of a two-way street that her own features soften in return, one hand coming down to rest against her hip, the other drifting to trace patterns along the ridges of her bracelet, lingering on the head of the serpent with each pass. )
Perhaps the terminology needs adjusting. (that earns a quirk at the corner of her mouth, just the barest hint of a smile. ) Do all mutants wear tattoos as well as you?
( because if they're not going to fight, she might as well enjoy herself. )
[ There's a part of him that's absolutely, 100% in control of himself, at all times. He has to, to prevent breaking everything around him. It only takes a hold too strong, or a moment of panic, and he's bending metal and pushing through concrete walls without a second thought.
Right now, he stays in control so as to not smirk too obviously. So as not to take a step forward. ]
No. And I'm John, by the way. [ He almost adds, Leader of the Mutant Underground, but that's another thing his control keeps him from doing. He doesn't know her, and she might have saved her life and talk about protection, he still has no idea what her thoughts on mutants are. She seems to use the word like it's not something to be proud of. ]
So, this Shadowhunter thing... is that like. A secret society, of some kind? If you're not a Mutant, how come you can see something no one else can?
John. (not proudstar. got it. she's not quite sure she could ever call him proudstar with a straight face. ) That's a shame. I quite like them.
( the enkeli rune, classic as it may be, rests just under the fabric of isabelle's shirt. rather than expose it quite yet, isabelle opts instead to turn her hand over, milky skin of her wrist revealing the swirled lines that compose the agility rune. one of many examples, though not quite as many as her brother or jace might wear. )
We are descendants of the Angel, peacekeepers and protectors of the shadow world and — (the world of the mundanes, she almost says, but the words still on her tongue. instead, she opts for a phrase often used in mocking by shadowhunters and downworlders alike, though her tone is genuine and kind. ) the world in light.
Our runes are a gift from the Angel. This one for agility, another for sight. We can see demons, other Shadowhunters... downworlders, too. Vampires, warlocks, faeries...
( as if those are completely normal things for people to see. but, for isabelle, they are. )
[ Not that he doesn't use his last name, or doesn't have pride in it - he does. But right now, it feels superfluous.
He listens to Isabelle, to the way she recites the words like she's read them out too many times, a little impersonal, pompous, until she starts talking about the runes. All of it, beforehand, feels rehearsed, but John doesn't comment, or interrupt.
The world in light, she says, and John has to keep himself from snorting. That's not the world he lives in. That's not the world he's ever lived in. ]
Well. This is a lot to take in. [ Even for a Mutant. At least, there's science behind who and what they are. Vampires? Angels? Folklore tales. ]
No, we're not. We are - genetically different from human. The x-gene gives us powers, different from one mutant to the other. Sometimes it's nothing you can even see, and we look like normal humans - like me, and sometimes, it's... a lot easier to spot us.
[ Looking down for a second, John goes back to crossing his arms over his chest. ]
We're a known entity. There's nothing secret about us - Mutants are known and under constant surveillance, especially in the US. Which begs the question... where do you come from?
[ Because if she came from here, she would know of them. ]
Most mundanes can't — ( a sudden press of her lips together stops the phrase from finishing, and she pauses for a moment before continuing as the words rise up from her throat. ) Shadowhunters don't often reveal themselves. We wear a glamour rune to keep ourselves hidden, so those without the Sight cannot see us. I was surprised you could.
( mutants or heaven-sent or demonic, whatever the answer, he could see her. even with the glamour rune activated, he could see her, if not the demon lingering above him. that alone had caught her attention, sparked her curiosity, made her want to know more. it had made her a little reckless, perhaps, following her own curiosity rather than returning home to the institute right away... )
That's why I wanted to meet with you.
( if she had known about the society he spoke of, perhaps she might not have been so surprised. genetic differences was just another way to explain your lineage, a similarity they shared. perhaps if the institute had known, they might have made an alliance. or perhaps not. isabelle only has to think of the clave's treatment of seelies and other downworlders to know that their judgment call might not be so kind. )
I live in the New York Institute. My family... we are from Idris, originally. ( the name won't spark any recognition. she knows this. ) In Central Europe.
[ Lifting his chin a little, John walks a few steps closer, looking around them. If he focuses, he can tell so many things - animals scurrying around them, a car on the road a way away, her heartbeat, steady and rhythmical. ]
My abilities - they allow me to track things. Very little gets by me without being noticed, and I can see through a lot of disguises.
[ He considers her for a moment, her words making him think she feels it's an honor, of some sort, to be able to see her. And she's beautiful, for sure, but. ]
You live in New-York, and you've never heard of Mutants before?
You live on this Earth, and yet you've never heard of Shadowhunters. ( to be fair, it's not as if the six o clock news is really played out within the walls of the institute. so much of what the world would call mutants passing her family and those like them would call downworlders — the recent developments often are brushed aside as just identities lost in translation. ) I suppose it's not that surprising that the secret worlds would stay apart.
( she considers him for a moment. tall, strong, clearly capable. he'd be an asset. someone worth aligning with, if only to protect cities in their absence. something he's clearly doing already. )
Your abilities are unique. I assume others — the mutants — are unique as well?
Are the Shadowhunters some kind of out-and-about organization?
[ He's got enough to worry about without going looking for more trouble in the name of demons, or whatever it is Isabelle hunts. Shadows. He's got more than enough on his plate with what's in plain daylight. ]
Mutants aren't much of a secret anymore.
[ Maybe her world is full enough that she doesn't need to add Mutants to her plate, either. Which he can understand. But this - her help, and her strength, is something they would definitely benefit from having on their side. ]
They are. We all have a different set of skills. Some are mundane, banal little things. Some are incredible, cities-leveling kind of powers. Which is why we're terrifying to humans.
What about Shadowunters? Do you have unique abilities?
( her head tilts to the side for a moment as she considers him, arms coming up to cross loosely over her chest. mutants may no longer be a secret in the world of mundanes, and if she's especially honest, she can't very well say she's surprised. something beyond the everyday is nearly impossible to ignore when it's right in front of you, after all; she can't blame the mundanes for being simultaneously terrified and captivated by mutants when she was equally captivated herself. not that he had scared her, but then, it took a lot to scare isabelle lightwood.
she hums, low and soft under her breath, for a moment before the words finally align in her mouth. when she speaks, there's a hesitancy to it, a quietness that hasn't quite shown itself before. ) No. No, I suppose we aren't. To downworlders — to our demon parallels, those with the Sight, we are known. But we don't expose ourselves to the rest of the world. ( the corner of her mouth quirks up a bit as she considers him again. ) But you do.
( for that, isabelle can respect the mutants. reactions of mundanes can never be predicted, nor guaranteed as pleasant, and yet the mutants do not hide themselves regardless of the consequences. she can appreciate the courage in that. )
I suppose we're varied... in our own, small ways. My whip, my brother's arrows, Clary's runes. We each carry some small favor of the Angel in our training, something that sets us apart.
[ He heaves out a sigh, running a hand through his hair, probably looking at frustrated as he feels. The fact that they can't hide anymore, the new laws and the registers and the inability to be a secret these days makes life so much worse, for so many of them. ]
It'd be easier for a lot of us if we were still in hiding, but we haven't been in a long time. It's... some of us can't really hide what they are, or what they can do. Without the proper training, it can get really dangerous.
[ It's brave, or just plain stupid. That's why most of them are still in hiding whenever they can be. ]
So it's a - family thing? You have to be born with it, like us? Can anyone be born a Shadowhunter?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2017-11-20 09:53 pm (UTC)Which is why he could track something he couldn't see. Which is why he ended up almost dying - something he sometimes thought impossible - and being rescued by a beautiful girl. Really, in his life? A standard occurrence, nowadays.
But then she'd disappeared. She'd used a weapon, not a Mutant power, and she'd seemed to be able to see whatever it was that attacked him.
He'd been easy, to catch a scent. He caught enough of her that he could just track her through the city if he wanted to, but he decided not to - easier to just find her when she wanted, and he had a job to do. But he picked her back up that evening, and it was just a short drive until he made it to the woods, pulling his hair up into a bun as he steps int the clearing. ]
Hi.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-21 12:40 am (UTC)I see you've managed to keep yourself alive this evening. I'm impressed.
( which is true, to an extent. she can only assume that his prior damsel in distress scenario could only be one of accidental circumstance, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time; she doesn't expect the downworlders of georgia to track down a would-be victim. but still — mundanes have such bad luck when it comes to staying alive these days. )
no subject
Date: 2017-11-21 10:50 am (UTC)Funnily enough, I've managed for the past 35 years, without your help.
[ Sighing, he lets it drop, his expression softening. ]
But thank you, for the other night. Contrary to your beliefs, I don't think my life was in danger - [ Because, indestructible - ] - but it doesn't change the fact that you got me out of a sticky situation.
[ He pauses for a moment, looking at the woman in front of him, straight on. ]
So... what are you, exactly? No offense, but you're apparently able to see stuff others can't, and you're a highly skilled fighter. Are you a Mutant? [ He doesn't add too at the end of his sentence, but it's implied. ]
no subject
Date: 2017-11-21 02:38 pm (UTC)but a thank you, however reticently given, is worlds above the grumbled stay well and other platitudes usually given after a match. it's a courtesy she's not often extended, especially by mundanes... even ones who call her a mutant. while she appreciates the gesture, she can't hide the tone of reproach that slips into her voice in her reply. )
A mutant? By the angel, no, I'm no such thing. ( she supposes you could call shadowhunters mutated in some way, modified by sheer angelic force and their own runic adjustments, but mutant just seems crass. ) But don't feel discouraged — demons aren't often seen by mundanes unless they want to be. I'd imagine the Eidolon wanted to eat you, not have you over for tea.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-21 03:08 pm (UTC)[ Now, the disapproval is evident in his voice, and his stance. He tenses immediately, as he usually does when finding himself faced with prejudiced people who think of him and his as things. Beneath humans.
Even if she didn't mean it that way, it stings all the same, as does her condescending tone. He has to swallow the fuck you that sits on the tip of his tongue, that Lorna or Marcos would probably have thrown at her face. ]
Look, I don't know who you think you are, or what you are, but I am perfectly able to defend myself, and whatever it was that attacked me, it would have had a hard time getting to eat me.
[ Crossing his arms over his chest, he gives the woman a look, extremely unimpressed. ]
You're this condescending to everyone you meet, or is it just 'mundanes' that you treat this way?
no subject
Date: 2017-11-21 04:11 pm (UTC)it made her think of the circle and their experimentations, the dangerous blend of man's ambition and greed and the heavenly powers funneled through the mortal cup. those were mutants. terrifying, tortured, and traumatized — but not the same as the man before her. there was no angry red ring burned into flesh, no power-mad gleam in his eyes, just affront and indignation smoldering a path across his body. )
Had you met an Eidolon before, you might be a little less confident about that. ( but whether or not the demon would make a quick snack of the man is really beside the point, and so she lets it drop. the press of her lips softens to a gentle touch, tip of her tongue darting out to moisten what's gone dry — something that seems impossible, given the weight of the moisture in the air — before she speaks again. ) The demon's not the point.
( fortunately for all involved, isabelle's not so self-involved or self-absorbed to purposely avoiding an apology when one is warranted. it bites at her pride a bit, but she can manage enough to move forward. )
My name is Isabelle Lightwood, and I am a Shadowhunter. ( a moment for the dramatic flourish; a sweep of her hand pushes her braid over her shoulder, revealing the arc of the rune that sprawls up her neck and over the path of her collarbone. one of many, dark black marks that crisscross over her body, peeking out from under shades of black. there's a theme here. ) Mundanes are our word for those that need protection.
( perhaps that's not exactly true of the man before her all the time, but at least the night before. )
For the record, I was trying to save your life, not belittle it.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-21 04:21 pm (UTC)[ It's an immediate response, one that he can't help, but he allows the subject to be dropped after that, lets his arms uncross, make himself look less on the defensive.
After all, what follows out of her mouth is a lot more interesting than squabbling over whether or not he or a demon would win in a fight.
He lets the words sink in, swallowing down some primary thoughts without giving them any time - they're unkind, and unfair. If she's here to protect people, then they are on the same side. ]
John Proudstar. And I'm no mundane. I'm a Mutant.
[ When he says the word, he holds it with pride. He's not one of those that believe they are so apart from the rest of humanity they can't live peacefully together, but he is as proud of what he is as he is of his Apache heritage. ]
And for the record, I am pretty much indestructible. [ He smiles. ] But still, I very much appreciate your help. It got dicey.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-21 04:47 pm (UTC)so it's with the thought of a two-way street that her own features soften in return, one hand coming down to rest against her hip, the other drifting to trace patterns along the ridges of her bracelet, lingering on the head of the serpent with each pass. )
Perhaps the terminology needs adjusting. ( that earns a quirk at the corner of her mouth, just the barest hint of a smile. ) Do all mutants wear tattoos as well as you?
( because if they're not going to fight, she might as well enjoy herself. )
no subject
Date: 2017-11-21 06:51 pm (UTC)Right now, he stays in control so as to not smirk too obviously. So as not to take a step forward. ]
No. And I'm John, by the way. [ He almost adds, Leader of the Mutant Underground, but that's another thing his control keeps him from doing. He doesn't know her, and she might have saved her life and talk about protection, he still has no idea what her thoughts on mutants are. She seems to use the word like it's not something to be proud of. ]
So, this Shadowhunter thing... is that like. A secret society, of some kind? If you're not a Mutant, how come you can see something no one else can?
no subject
Date: 2017-11-22 03:54 am (UTC)( the enkeli rune, classic as it may be, rests just under the fabric of isabelle's shirt. rather than expose it quite yet, isabelle opts instead to turn her hand over, milky skin of her wrist revealing the swirled lines that compose the agility rune. one of many examples, though not quite as many as her brother or jace might wear. )
We are descendants of the Angel, peacekeepers and protectors of the shadow world and — ( the world of the mundanes, she almost says, but the words still on her tongue. instead, she opts for a phrase often used in mocking by shadowhunters and downworlders alike, though her tone is genuine and kind. ) the world in light.
Our runes are a gift from the Angel. This one for agility, another for sight. We can see demons, other Shadowhunters... downworlders, too. Vampires, warlocks, faeries...
( as if those are completely normal things for people to see. but, for isabelle, they are. )
And the mutants? Are they a secret society?
no subject
Date: 2017-11-22 01:20 pm (UTC)He listens to Isabelle, to the way she recites the words like she's read them out too many times, a little impersonal, pompous, until she starts talking about the runes. All of it, beforehand, feels rehearsed, but John doesn't comment, or interrupt.
The world in light, she says, and John has to keep himself from snorting. That's not the world he lives in. That's not the world he's ever lived in. ]
Well. This is a lot to take in. [ Even for a Mutant. At least, there's science behind who and what they are. Vampires? Angels? Folklore tales. ]
No, we're not. We are - genetically different from human. The x-gene gives us powers, different from one mutant to the other. Sometimes it's nothing you can even see, and we look like normal humans - like me, and sometimes, it's... a lot easier to spot us.
[ Looking down for a second, John goes back to crossing his arms over his chest. ]
We're a known entity. There's nothing secret about us - Mutants are known and under constant surveillance, especially in the US. Which begs the question... where do you come from?
[ Because if she came from here, she would know of them. ]
no subject
Date: 2017-11-25 05:12 pm (UTC)( mutants or heaven-sent or demonic, whatever the answer, he could see her. even with the glamour rune activated, he could see her, if not the demon lingering above him. that alone had caught her attention, sparked her curiosity, made her want to know more. it had made her a little reckless, perhaps, following her own curiosity rather than returning home to the institute right away... )
That's why I wanted to meet with you.
( if she had known about the society he spoke of, perhaps she might not have been so surprised. genetic differences was just another way to explain your lineage, a similarity they shared. perhaps if the institute had known, they might have made an alliance. or perhaps not. isabelle only has to think of the clave's treatment of seelies and other downworlders to know that their judgment call might not be so kind. )
I live in the New York Institute. My family... we are from Idris, originally. ( the name won't spark any recognition. she knows this. ) In Central Europe.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-27 03:54 pm (UTC)My abilities - they allow me to track things. Very little gets by me without being noticed, and I can see through a lot of disguises.
[ He considers her for a moment, her words making him think she feels it's an honor, of some sort, to be able to see her. And she's beautiful, for sure, but. ]
You live in New-York, and you've never heard of Mutants before?
no subject
Date: 2017-12-15 04:49 am (UTC)( she considers him for a moment. tall, strong, clearly capable. he'd be an asset. someone worth aligning with, if only to protect cities in their absence. something he's clearly doing already. )
Your abilities are unique. I assume others — the mutants — are unique as well?
no subject
Date: 2017-12-18 11:08 am (UTC)[ He's got enough to worry about without going looking for more trouble in the name of demons, or whatever it is Isabelle hunts. Shadows. He's got more than enough on his plate with what's in plain daylight. ]
Mutants aren't much of a secret anymore.
[ Maybe her world is full enough that she doesn't need to add Mutants to her plate, either. Which he can understand. But this - her help, and her strength, is something they would definitely benefit from having on their side. ]
They are. We all have a different set of skills. Some are mundane, banal little things. Some are incredible, cities-leveling kind of powers. Which is why we're terrifying to humans.
What about Shadowunters? Do you have unique abilities?
no subject
Date: 2017-12-18 05:28 pm (UTC)she hums, low and soft under her breath, for a moment before the words finally align in her mouth. when she speaks, there's a hesitancy to it, a quietness that hasn't quite shown itself before. ) No. No, I suppose we aren't. To downworlders — to our demon parallels, those with the Sight, we are known. But we don't expose ourselves to the rest of the world. ( the corner of her mouth quirks up a bit as she considers him again. ) But you do.
( for that, isabelle can respect the mutants. reactions of mundanes can never be predicted, nor guaranteed as pleasant, and yet the mutants do not hide themselves regardless of the consequences. she can appreciate the courage in that. )
I suppose we're varied... in our own, small ways. My whip, my brother's arrows, Clary's runes. We each carry some small favor of the Angel in our training, something that sets us apart.
no subject
Date: 2018-01-02 12:45 pm (UTC)It'd be easier for a lot of us if we were still in hiding, but we haven't been in a long time. It's... some of us can't really hide what they are, or what they can do. Without the proper training, it can get really dangerous.
[ It's brave, or just plain stupid. That's why most of them are still in hiding whenever they can be. ]
So it's a - family thing? You have to be born with it, like us? Can anyone be born a Shadowhunter?