Proper stood up far to slowly. As he did the glamour fell off him. He was a tiny and winged again. He had fire in his eyes,
" Ill dead with the nephilim." He said to no one in particular and slowly walked out the door and down the hall. He met the first two there. They immediately flung blades at him. Proper hissed a word and the blades stopped in midair and turned back, landing in there owners chest's with a thud. On the flight of stairs down he came across three more. He turned them into statues.
Mortal Instruments Guild
A guild for discussions, RPing, and generally enjoying books. Mostly Cassandra Clare's, but other's as well.
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