Mar. 14th, 2015

seveninchmotto: ([neg] Severe.)
"The funeral's over," Isabelle said. "Or at least, the smoke's stopped rising." She was perched on the windowsill of her room in the Inquisitor's house. The room was small and white-painted, with flowered curtains. Not very Isabelle, but then it would have been hard to replicate her powder-and-glitter-strewn rooms in New York and Fandom on short notice.

Plans are made. )

[ooc: NFB, NFI, CoHF etc,]
seveninchmotto: ([neu] What is that?)
Isabelle's packing was quickly done. You didn't get to be an eighteen-year-old Shadowhunter and not learn what were the essentials to take when you were about to rush into something potentially very stupid. She had enough moments to spare for something else she wanted to get done.

Even in all too many of those moments ended up being spent up staring at the piece of parchment, trying to figure out what to write. She ended up going with the first thing that had come to her head. It was kind of terrible, but it was what she wanted to say. Should this whole endeavor go wrong.

Ave atque vale.

She folded the piece of parchment, and drew a rune on it with the tip of her stele, and watched it burn and vanish as it went on its way. Then she inhaled deeply, and squared her shoulders. She was ready.

Off to the Seelie Queen we go. )

[ooc: NFB, NFI, OOC-okay, CoHF, probably one of three today? Warning for NPC death.]
seveninchmotto: ([neu] Shadowhunter.)
Isabelle woke to a scream. By the time she was blinking her eyes open and pushing herself up from where she'd passed out by Simon's side, Clary was already on her feet. "Someone screamed," she said. "You two stay here — I'll go see what happened."

"No, no." Isabelle scrambled to her feet just as Alec burst into the chamber, panting hard.

The Lightwoods and their near-death experiences. )

[ooc: NFB, NFI, OOC-okay! CoHF. Two more monster posts coming up tomorrow! Warning for violence and heavy injury.]

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Isabelle Lightwood

November 2018

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