seveninchmotto | From Alicante to The Apartment, New York, Saturday

Entry tags:

From Alicante to The Apartment, New York, Saturday

This morning, in her bed at her father's house in Alicante, Isabelle had woken up to feeling uncomfortable. It hadn't taken her long to realize why. Overnight, she'd become –– well, the wrong shape for pretty much everything she'd been wearing to sleep in. So, right, they were doing this again. She would've assumed Fandom's magic couldn't work through the wards around Idris, but apparently she'd thought wrong. And it'd be complicated to look like Alec here of all places.

Ugh.

So, she'd gotten out of bed with a groan, then gone to the closet to search for clothes that'd even remotely fit her. And that was when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

And immediately went in for a closer look because well hello. She did not look like Alec this time. And that changed everything.

So long story short: she sent a fire message to Flick (Had to go to NY, come if you can, because she'd previously told him she'd stay in Alicante this weekend) and then listen closely until she was sure her father wasn't in the house, before sneaking into his quarters and snagging an old set of gear to wear. Then she scribbled her father a little note as well, about how Jace had asked her to come back to the city.

Fast forward, and she was home in New York. Having far too much fun going through Flick's closet space and modeling things in front of the mirrors. And if some of the modeling was sans clothes, well, could you blame her? She deserved her fun, dammit.

And her phone was filling up with pictures.

Also once Flick would hopefully make it out of Idris and his phone would start working, he was going to find several photos on there as well. Maybe he'd enjoy an unknown but attractive young man's (clothed!) selfies coming from Isabelle's number? In fact, maybe he'd even put two and two together and note the Marks and how the backgrounds looked suspiciously like their bedroom in the city. He was a smart boy, he could figure it out.

[ooc: NFB, primarily for That Guy, but can be open for calls/texts as well!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I don't know, babe, my throat's kinda sore," he joked, coughing lightly. "Might have to wait till next time you're like this."

"Well, I hear hand jobs are kinda fun too."

She wasn't sure whether he was joking or not, so, hey. Best go the route of least assholeishness. Anyway, she was chopping some things and tossing them in a pot. A scent was starting to waft out of the kitchen.

It was hard to tell what it was.

"You are really into feeling what a guy does," Flick said, laughing. "I will gladly get down on my knees for you, Isabelle, so you can experience what a blow job is like."

He sniffed the air and frowned because he couldn't really place the scent.

Wasn't it good to be home?

"That's better," she replied, a smirk to her voice. (It still weirded her out how she sounded. It was as if she expected to sound the same even though her entire body was different.) "Thank you for allowing me to explore my sexuality in a healthy fashion."

"You haven't used your hand yet?" Flick asked curiously. "Haven't touched yourself at all?"

"Only a little," she admitted, peering into the pot before adjusting the heat. "I didn't make it home that much before you did, you know."

"Aww, too bad. It's pretty enjoyable," he said, sniffing again and frowning again. "What are you making, babe?"

"It's kind of like a quick pasta stew thing," she said, whatever that meant. She was technically working from a recipe, but she was improvising a lot. She just wanted it to be a little quicker! And a little tastier. "It's going to be delicious."

"A quick pasta stew thing," he repeated, nodding. "What's in it?"

"Pasta ––" Duh. "–– some veggies, some herbs. It's healthy for you."

Debatable.

"That sounds...interesting," Flick said with a nod. "And delicious. Very good."

He hoped.

Hope was such a precious thing around Isabelle's cooking.

"It'll be ready soon," she told him. In fact, she went to get bowls and utensils ready. "Maybe I'll make something a little more grandiose tomorrow."

"Whatever you wanna do, you should do," Flick said, nodding. "I'll eat anything you cook."

He'd done it before, he could do it again.

It made Jace feel impressed with him, if nothing else.

"You're very good at eating, it's true."

She got glasses to go with their other kitchenware.

"I'm good at a multitude of things," he answered airily. "Some you'll find out about soon enough."

"Mm-hmmm." So much smirking in such a little sound. "But you should come eat, first. Get your strength up, baby."

She was setting the table. Getting water for the glasses before checking the stew. Yes, looking nice and ready and probably not poisonous.

"And here I thought you'd bring the food to me," he joked, pushing himself up and making his way into the dining room. The smell got stronger but more confusing here.

"It smells...interesting," he said, sitting down and nodding. "Very interesting."

"Thanks!" Isabelle said, as if that was a compliment. She even refrained from pointing out she looked even less like a housewife than she usually did, so bringing him his food would not have been happening.

Also, the way she brought the pot to the table was a little housewifey.

... Less so, when she plopped herself down across from him and reached to fill up her own bowl.

Flick let her get her food first since she'd made it and to give himself more time to try and snuff out what exactly it was. He couldn't tell by the color or the smell so he guessed taste was going to have to be the deciding factor.

Once she was done, he dished up his own bowl and grabbed a spoon, stirring the concoction to cool it down.

"Have you gone out anywhere else like this? Seen your family?"

"I'm thinking of going sparring with Jace and Alec tomorrow," Isabelle replied, shrugging and giving her arms a quick glance because they were there and different, and the reason she really wanted to have a good sparring session in this body. "They'll understand what's happening. I haven't seen anyone yet, though."

She cooled a spoonful of stew by blowing gently on it. Then stuck the spoon in her mouth, tilting her head just a bit.

She seemed to deem it edible, but then, she'd had a lot of practice.

"I came straight here," she continued. "I was wearing Dad's clothes, so..."

"I would love to hear you tell your dad that," Flick said, spooning some stew into his mouth. It was...it was interesting. Unlike any food he'd had before. Not bad but definitely...

He swallowed and nodded. "Very different. I think I like it. I'll have to eat more."

"I left Dad a note blaming Jace," Isabelle admitted, rolling her eyes. "And that's all he'll be hearing."

She knew it was a joke, and one she didn't mind at all. Her eye rolling was really directed at her father more than anything.

Flick chuckled and went back to eating, trying to figure out what he felt about this stew. He hit a particularly salty patch and had to steel himself not to react.

"Do you like it?" Flick asked, nodding at her bowl.

There were probably going to be some particularly spicy patches as well. She'd dumped some in at a pretty late time in cooking the thing, and had maybe not stirred it all in very evenly.

But surprises were fun, right?

She smiled like that wasn't a thing she was fearing. "I do," she said. "But I think it'd be better with some fresh bread."

"Do you want me to get some?" Flick asked, nodding at the kitchen. "I can put some in the toaster? You cooked, I should make the bread."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject