Isabelle Lightwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
seveninchmotto) wrote2016-08-13 05:47 pm
seveninchmotto) wrote2016-08-13 05:47 pm
Entry tags:
Robert Lightwood's House, Alicante, Idris, Saturday
For something Isabelle genuinely wanted to do, this had been kind of an ordeal. No one had actually opposed to her declaration that she was going to start splitting her time between Idris and New York a little more evenly. But moving in with her father, as a reality? He was awkward about it, at best – even if it was in his own, gruffly restrained way. It didn't help that she was altogether unsure about how well this would go, and whether she even wanted it to go in a way that wasn't a complete disaster.
She still had in her the desire to punish him for everything he'd done wrong, after all. All the pain he'd caused her mother. All the pain he'd caused her. It wasn't close to the surface these days, but was that just because she'd made sure to stay away from him as much as she could?
So... Things were going to be interesting.
But today was Isabelle's move-in day, and so far, things had gone okay. She'd brought a full trunk and a few bags' worth of things from New York (still managing to leave her and Flick's apartment looking like she'd taken nothing at all with her, a true testament to how much stuff there was), her father had greeted her and shown her the right room, then they'd stood awkwardly in the middle of it until he'd excused himself to go take care of some official business or other.
It hadn't gone perfectly, but about as well as Isabelle would've expected it to. And now, she was doing what she did best: decorating the room. It was a fine room, on the second floor, far enough from her father's main quarters downstairs that she wouldn't feel like she was living right under his nose. There was a large window with a view of the hustle and bustle of the street below. But so far, the room did not look lived in.
Isabelle was about to change that.
[ooc: NFB, for the boy because no one else can actually reach this country, whoops.]
She still had in her the desire to punish him for everything he'd done wrong, after all. All the pain he'd caused her mother. All the pain he'd caused her. It wasn't close to the surface these days, but was that just because she'd made sure to stay away from him as much as she could?
So... Things were going to be interesting.
But today was Isabelle's move-in day, and so far, things had gone okay. She'd brought a full trunk and a few bags' worth of things from New York (still managing to leave her and Flick's apartment looking like she'd taken nothing at all with her, a true testament to how much stuff there was), her father had greeted her and shown her the right room, then they'd stood awkwardly in the middle of it until he'd excused himself to go take care of some official business or other.
It hadn't gone perfectly, but about as well as Isabelle would've expected it to. And now, she was doing what she did best: decorating the room. It was a fine room, on the second floor, far enough from her father's main quarters downstairs that she wouldn't feel like she was living right under his nose. There was a large window with a view of the hustle and bustle of the street below. But so far, the room did not look lived in.
Isabelle was about to change that.
[ooc: NFB, for the boy because no one else can actually reach this country, whoops.]