Dated January 10, 2017

[seveninches]

It had seemed like a good enough way to kick off the new year. The flying monkey bat things at Kagura on New Years Eve had been fun, had given Isabelle cause to get her whip out again, but it wasn't quite the same. It was a relatively easy fight, nothing like the kind of high she gets when fighting demons. Which is why it hadn't taken long for her to ask Alec to go out, and he had readily agreed. Isabelle knows she can always count on Alec to be behind her in a fight, and she knows that on some level, even he gets restless in this city.

The night starts off normally enough. They both armed themselves, dressed in their gear and headed out. Demons were starting to appear less frequently in Darrow but they still cropped up on the odd occasion, and Isabelle was glad that tonight appears to be one of them. Her necklace hummed at her throat and together they followed it to the edge of the city, their footsteps silent on the street.

The demon, once they found it, was particularly horrible. Every time she sees a new one Isabelle thinks they can't possibly get any grosser, but they always seem to find a way to surpass her expectations. It looked like a giant slug, its body covered in rows upon rows of suckers that Isabelle had no intention of finding out the purpose of. It was faceless, or eyeless at the least, but on both ends was a gaping mouth with rimmed with what looked like shark's teeth. Its back was lined with sharp, dagger-looking wings, more of them than Isabelle could count. Isabelle cast a quick glance towards Alec, but he was stony-faced, an arrow already nocked.

The demon lunged at them quickly, and Isabelle was surprised with the speed at which it moved, considering its lumbering size. She dodged and it missed her narrowly enough that she felt its breath hot and disgusting, saw yellow drool dripping from its mouth. Isabelle flung her whip out but Alec was faster, embedding an arrow in the demon's mouth. It reared back and Alec shot again at the same time as Isabelle brought her whip down, feeling it cut through layers of demon flesh. Demon ichor sprayed out and Isabelle almost gagged at the smell. She'd need a hardcore rune to get the smell and stains out of her gear later, but for now that hardly mattered.

"Alec, move!" she shouted as the demon went for him, obviously in pain but not about to give up yet. Alec backed up a little, arrow after arrow flying from his bow and thudding into the demon's flesh, but it kept moving. Gritting her teeth, Isabelle raced forward and brought her whip down in a flash with all her strength. The demon sliced in half, shuddering and twitching and hissing in pain. Isabelle grimaced and glanced toward Alec to make sure it hadn't touched him. She was only distracted for half a second but the demon writhed and gave one last lunge, sinking sharp teeth into her leg. Isabelle screamed, bringing her whip down hard and forcing it to release her, but she could feel herself collapsing at the same time. She fell back, dimly hearing Alec shout her name but she was already drifting, her breathing coming in sharp bursts, her eyes slipping closed.

And she remembered. There had been a time almost exactly like this, she knew. Not in Darrow but home, in Hell, of all places. She remembers the stink of the air, how hard it was to breathe under the suffocating weight of it. She remembers Alec, heartbroken and so determined to find Magnus. She remembers the desperation in Clary's eyes, the fierceness in Jace's. She remembers them all marching in to Hell to save their friends, knowing that there was a good chance none of them would come back.

Isabelle convulses on the ground and she knows Alec is there, calling to her, but she's stuck, watching flashes of thoughts and memories that she doesn't remember having racing through her mind. She remembers Sebastian, his disguise gone and his hair as silver as Valentine's, his eyes cruel. And she remembers Max, remembers the way he looked at her the last time she saw him, remembers going to his funeral and feeling like a part of her soul had been torn out. She might die here, she thinks idly, but that seems suddenly to matter far less in the shadow of the knowledge that Max died first, that it was her who was supposed to protect him and she failed.

Slowly she comes to, fuelled back to consciousness by the pain in her leg. It doesn't make any sense but she knows that the memories are real, knows that it's the piece of the puzzle she's been missing this whole time, the piece that Magnus had so carefully kept hidden from them.


ooc: Isabelle has been canon updated to near the end of the TMI series: this comes with the knowledge that her baby brother died, among other things. Trace if you want to play from here I'm down with it, otherwise anyone can feel free to come upon the scene or find her at any time later, where she'll more than likely have locked herself in her room. I'm open to whatever is convenient for your pups, though. Twitter me if any questions <3

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[seveninches]

She can't think of the last time she ate or drank something, and the idea of tea is startling welcome. It's the kind of thing Maryse might have done for her, she thinks, if she were ever a mother and not a Shadowhunter. It's a little bit nice, even, to know that someone worried about her. She knows Alec has been standing guard outside her door more often than not, but they haven't talked about things, and she hasn't opened the door. They both deal with their grief in different ways and Isabelle knows that eventually they'll have to talk about it together, but they've been putting it off.

She thinks it probably means as much for Tris to say it as it does for Isabelle to hear it. She leans back a little, nods and tries not to look too pathetic.

"Probably safer that I don't," she says, and she's not joking. A cup of tea probably can't be that hard, but Alec has told her how terrible her cooking is enough times for her to avoid it where possible, especially when guests are involved. "Thank you," she says, quieter, almost hard to admit. It shouldn't be, but it still is, and she thinks Tris might even understand it.

[priordivergence]

"Of course."

In this, I try to be my mother. I try to act out even a fraction of her effortless generosity, her kind selflessness. I think I may be too Divergent and too ruined to actually be like her but being able to pretend gets me through the task of warming up water in the microwave and dropping in a tea bag. Glancing around the apartment, I contemplate cooking a meal. Or, at the very least, I could make her a sandwich.

"Here," I say, pressing the warm mug into her hands when it's done. I wait for a second before I add, "Do you want to talk about it?"

[seveninches]

Isabelle doesn't know what she's supposed to do while Tris busies herself making tea. It's her own apartment and she feels out of place suddenly. She stands exactly where Tris left her, staring blankly at the wall until Tris pushing a mug into her hands startles her back to reality.

"Thanks," she says when she realises what she's been handed. She curls her hands around the warmth, taking some small comfort in it. She should be doing this for Alec, probably, but she can't take care of him when she can't even pull herself together.

She hesitates then, because she doesn't know if she wants to talk about it. She has, a little, to Luke and Magnus, mostly. They'd found her in the street at Alec's prompting and it had been impossible to keep from them. She feels like if she talks about it this time though she'll unravel any threads that she just managed to start putting together, like the cracks will show and bleed again and she'll end up a sobbing mess. Tris surely doesn't need that on her hands, but she should explain, in some small way, maybe.

"My brother died," she says finally, trying to keep her voice even. "Back home. Not Alec," she says once she realises that he's probably the only brother Tris knows about. "The youngest." She can't say his name. If she says his name she'll break.

[priordivergence]

I wonder if this is how I looked to Tori on the day Al died. It feels terrible, looking at someone I know is strong but who looks in that moment so fragile. "It'll help," I say, echoing Tori's own words. "Tea won't fix things but it'll help."

There's nothing in the world that can fix what she describes. I've lost my own brother too but not the loss she's talking about. The realities of Caleb's betrayal had torn me in two but he'd still been alive. My parents' death had been so quick, so buried under more horrible truths and actions, that I'd never grieved them, not in the numb way that's taken over Isabelle.

Absurdly, I wish I'd brought my rabbit. Élan is small and loving and asks no questions. Maybe that's what Isabelle needs.

"Would you like me to go?" I don't think I should, not when she looks so scraped thin, but it's not my choice to make.

[seveninches]

She takes a sip of the tea as ordered, lets the warmth cover her and try and chase away some of the chill that's settled into her bones. It does help, in some way, and she's thankful that she has people who are willing to do this for her. People who understand not how to try and convince her things are okay, but to help her with enough small things until it feels like they might start to be.

"No," she says, surprised by how much she means it. She doesn't want Tris to leave, even when she'd been so insistent on being alone half an hour ago. If she's left alone she knows she'll keep visualising it, keep seeing Max's scared expression before the hammer came down and everything went dark. At least with Tris here she can focus on her, focus on the mug in her hands, anything else.

"I don't really want to be alone," she admits, which is more than Isabelle has admitted to anyone in a long time.

[priordivergence]

I know how much it would cost me to admit that and I think it must take the same toll on her. Reaching out, I squeeze her shoulder, keeping my body open to her if she wants a hug but my grip loose in case she would prefer to step away.

"I could order pizza," I say, wincing inwardly. Isabelle probably needs to eat but I don't know if that's what she wants, if it would give her a stomach ache, any number of worries. "Or, you know, whatever."

Hoping to pull a smile from her, I softly admit something she already knows, "I don't know much about just being with friends."