i'm pure at heart, it repels the dirt

Today was the day.

They were all gathered in the Institute's garden. Clary, Jace, Alec, Magnus. Simon had just arrived, looking like desperately didn't want anyone to think he was exactly as nervous as he had every right to be. The conversation was stilted, and awkward, in the way you could expect it to be when one person in a group couldn't remember the vast majority of his shared history with everyone else, while everyone else could.

And then there was Isabelle.

And Flick.

She'd pulled him aside, a little further from the group. She could feel Alec casting covert glances their way, but she was ignoring it. "Do you have everything?" she asked, like she hadn't already asked that at the apartment.

[ooc: NFB, for the guy, and referencing Tales from Shadowhunter Academy story #1!]

"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,]

The battle of the Adamant Citadel had nearly killed Jace. And Simon was in Idris now too, brought by Raphael, after being abducted by Maureen because why not, right? And some time between London and the Citadel, Sebastian's forces had taken on the Praetor Lupus. Jordan was dead.

( And it all just keeps on getting better. )

[ooc: NFB, NFI, OOC-okay! Post one of three today. From City of Heavenly Fire. Warning for violence.]

"Berlin. No survivors. Bangkok. No survivors. Moscow. No survivors. Los Angeles —"

( There were survivors in Los Angeles. )

Some hours later, there was a shimmering Portal just outside the Institute. Most of the Shadownhunters were already gone, but the Lightwoods, as guardians of the Institute, would be the last ones through.

And Isabelle, in her cloak of heavy, velvety black material that buckled across the chest, was standing apart from the others, looking towards the street. She'd asked Flick to come. Just for a moment. Just for a goodbye.

[ooc: NFB, to be continued in the comments. And off to the final book we go! Taken with editing from Cassandra Clare's City of Heavenly Fire.]

It had been a long night of poring through books of Magnus's so old that their pages were as thin as onionskin, while Simon handled getting coffee and food. Again, it had been weird but good for Isabelle to have Flick by her side through all of it.

But he wasn't here now, even if it wasn't by his own decision. Once they had finally settled on a place for the summoning – Luke's farm, a remote enough location – they'd all gotten a couple of hours of sleep, and then Isabelle had sent him off. She'd still been in the process of arguing with Magnus about whether she should come. She'd had absolutely no give in the issue of whether Flick could. He couldn't, end of story.

( So he wasn't here now. )

[ooc: NFB, NFI, summarized from CoLS. Part one of two. ALMOST DONE SPAMMING Y'ALL.]

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.]

The good news was that Jace was alive. Of course, Isabelle had believed he was alive this entire time, but confirmation was a good thing to have. But that was where the good news ended, because Jace was with Sebastian, as they'd feared. And - according to Clary, who had seen them in the Institute's library – he seemed like a willing accomplice. Isabelle hoped it was an act. That he was tricking Sebastian and just couldn't risk sending a message to them. And they couldn't tell the Clave. If the Clave thought Jace was cooperating with Sebastian, the mandate would be to kill him on sight, because that was the Law. Sed lex dura lex, and Isabelle had never hated that fact more than right now.

And they couldn't go back to the Seelie Queen because Clary had gotten so upset she'd forgotten to get the rings.

So now all they could do was talk to Magnus and see if he had any insight. He wouldn't go to the Council despite being a member, because of Alec, and he'd been trying to decode Lilith's spell since the night Jace had disappeared, anyway. But Magnus had been busy all of Sunday. Alec had gone to him in the evening, but last Isabelle had heard, they weren't going to do anything before the morning.

And Isabelle had felt sick and angry, and a multitude of other things, and, well. Long story short: she'd ended up back on the island in the middle of the night. She needed Flick. But she didn't want to need Flick, and anyway, Flick was sick and she had the sickening feeling it was because of her, and that made her feel guilty, and she hated feeling guilty, especially over some mundie boy, and then she decided Flick probably wasn't even on the island, anyway, because he was probably hiding out in New York or Connecticut or something, like an idiot, so she ended up waltzing two doors past his, and banging her fist against the door to room 512 instead. Sharply. Also loudly.

Maybe she'd had a drink or two already. Or maybe she was just this off her balance for other reasons.

[ooc: NFB, and for the guy mentioned, pls and thank you! Summary and some of the content in the thread from City of Lost Souls. Up early as hell because Europeans. ETA: Warning for light alcohol abuse.]

Isabelle felt wretched. Between waiting for the Clave to come up with a ruling about Clary, and the calls with Flick and Joi just now, she was feeling terrible. She was standing by the window with Church in her arms, stroking the cat's head absently while cuddling him close to her chest.

( Clary was sitting on Isabelle's bed between a pile of magazines and a rattling stack of seraph blades. )

[ooc: NFB, NFI, OOC-okay! Edited from Cassandra Clare's City of Lost Souls. SECOND-TO-LAST BOOK, PEOPLE!]