i'm pure at heart, it repels the dirt

So, Isabelle Lightwood was a married woman. At least according to the customs of the mundane world.

And more importantly -- okay, maybe not more importantly, but pretty importantly all the same, she was a married woman who was yet to have a proper honeymoon. Oh, sure, they'd had those few days in Vegas, but they'd also had Beth around for most of it. And while Isabelle loved Flick's mother from the bottom of her heart, it didn't really make for what her understanding of a real honeymoon was.

And then she'd had to go back to New York and Flick had had to return to the Academy, cutting their married bliss short.

But, now, almost two whole months later, they'd managed to find a few days' worth of time to actually see each other (because there was nothing like starting a marriage with almost two months of not being able to meet at all), and Isabelle had jumped at the chance to just go and whisk Flick away to somewhere far away.

So here they were, in Paris, at an exceedingly fancy hotel, entering not their room but their own private three-story villa because Isabelle didn't do things in half-measures, and also because she'd somehow scored a very good deal, because sometimes she was very, very lucky.

And if her wide-eyed looks around were anything to go by, she at least approved of her choice, herself."Oh it's so pretty."

[ooc: NFB, for the husband, what. And also massively massive SP.]

Isabelle had meant to visit Flick at the Academy in Idris today, but something's things just didn't go according to plan. There had been a couple of major incidents of demonic activity in Manhattan earlier in the week, and so Isabelle had ended up doing patrol after patrol (missing her class in Fandom in the process) and staying at the Institute while the Conclave focused on tracking down whoever was causing so much trouble.

So she'd sent Flick a fire message, telling him she'd arranged the portals for him to come visit. And when he'd shown up, she'd told him they were going to be sparring. She was in the mindset for it, and she was curious about what it was like to fight him now, after so long at the Academy.

(Especially because she'd stopped sparring with him before he'd started his studies.)

And now they were in the training room at the Institute. Just the two of them; everyone else currently at the Institute were far too busy elsewhere.

Often, Isabelle trained in gear because she most often also fought in gear and so it made sense, but by Friday, she felt as if she'd been practically living in Marked gear all week, so she'd opted for more mundane workout clothes. You weren't going to see any sports bra/top and clingy exercise pants combos in the training halls of Alicante.

She finished putting her hair up into a bun, then stretched her arms. "You ready for this?"

[ooc: NFB and for the boy lovingly modded here.]

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!]

Isabelle was in her element. Not only was her boyfriend home – and not just visiting for the day but on actual break – but she was also cooking for him. That's right, their kitchen was a happy mess of various kinds of ingredients and pots and pans with ––

With, well, something cooking in them. It was honestly hard to tell what it was by the smell. Or the ingredients strewn about the counters. Or the way it looked, even. Maybe... maybe it was some kind of stew?

Whatever it was, Isabelle looked happy to be making it.

[ooc: NFB, and expecting a ton of SP, omg.]

It was a big day. Also slightly terrifying, even though Isabelle was sure this was really just a formality. Her mother just wanted to have seen something with her own eyes instead of just going by other people's word. She was the person who'd have to vouch for Flick, after all.

They'd come to the Institute some time ago, and to the training room. Almost immediately, there'd been sparring. Just as promised, it had been Jace against Flick. No weapons, and Jace had been instructed to not go at his full strength, as the goal wasn't to kill Flick but rather to see where he was at the moment with his skills. And Isabelle had watched with her mother, stomping hard on the urge to yell out encouragement and advice. Not that Flick had really needed the latter, at least. He'd been predictably resilient, always getting back up, always going on with things until Maryse called for it to be over because she'd seen enough.

Jace threw Flick a towel to dab the sweat off (no blood, thankfully, although there would be some nice bruises), then ruffled Isabelle's hair as he slipped past. It was largely to annoy her, but there was a slight territorial quality to it as well. Directed at Flick. Lightwoods, they stuck together, even when one of them was technically a Herondale.

Isabelle rolled her eyes at him.

And then it was just the three of them again. Isabelle, Flick, and her mother. And Maryse was eyeing Flick critically, in silence. In fact, she hadn't said anything since the sparring ended. Please don't pee your pants, Flick.

[ooc: NFB, for the guy being judged, who was also modded with kind permission!]

This was Isabelle's idea of a lazy Sunday: shopping. Lots and lots of shopping. Nothing calmed a randomly restless mind better than that. Except demon hunting, of course. And fighting. But she'd gotten her training in this morning, and she had intentions of going home to patrol with her brothers sometime soon. So shopping it was.

She was texting Jace photos of the most unfortunate pieces of clothing she could find. That was great sibling bonding, right there.

I dare you to buy that, Iz. Woo your little mundie boy in that paisly monstrosity.

[ooc: IDK. NFB, but open for all the usual!]

After class, Isabelle had put her time to good use with some cardboard, some glue, and plenty of glitter. Now, she was hanging the fruit of her labor on her dorm room door. It was a poster.

( There is totally a one of those glittery text gifs under here. )

[poster text sans glittery name gif:
SENIOR CLASS!
VOTE
~~*~ISABELLE LIGHTWOOD~*~~
FOR YOUR PROM QUEEN 2015!]

It was slowly flaking glitter on to the floor. But Isabelle didn't care. She looked proud. She'd also set her previous three tiaras strategically on her vanity table so they could be seen from the doorway. Homecoming Princess 2013, Prom Princess 2014, Homecoming Queen 2014. She kind of wanted to add Prom Queen 2015 to the collection. So, she had a poster. A glittery, glittery poster.

She put her hands on her hips and nodded at the poster, pleased with it and herself.

[ooc: Open door, open post, catch Izzy either hanging the poster or in her room, or just gaze at the poster before you have to avert your eyes from the glitter!]

Isabelle was tired and weary, still, but a few days in Idris had done her some good. Even if everyone was still more than a little shell-shocked. Even if everyone was still in mourning for something or someone, and there had been a Council meeting to determine the place of the Seelie Court among them after their betrayal.

Even if the Hall of Accords had been draped with the blue banners of victory, a golden rune of triumph on each one.

It all felt very far away now that Isabelle was back on Fandom. Her room looked the same. Glitter and clothes spilled everywhere. Nothing here suggested the occupant had quite literally been to hell and back not too many days ago.

Isabelle sent out a single text to Flick – I'm here, and nothing else – and dropped her phone on her bed. And sighed.

[ooc: Open door, open post.]

So, that had been a pretty short dance for this couple. And Isabelle was perfectly fine with that. She got her door open, and was already trying to kiss Flick again as soon as she'd yanked him into the room.

After the couple of weeks she'd had, she really needed something easier like this. Probably deserved it, too. So, she was taking it.

[ooc: For the guy, and NSFW-bound probably.]

Isabelle had been trained to wake early every morning, rain or shine, and a slight hangover did nothing to prevent it from happening again. She sat up slowly and blinked down at Flick. It was weird to have him here, for so many reasons. But it was good too. She kissed his forehead softly, then swung herself out of bed. She rummaged in her bag for her gear, retrieved it, and headed out to find the bathroom.

( It was halfway down the hall, and the door was just opening. )

[ooc: NFB, for the boy, City of Lost Souls. You know this.]