i'm pure at heart, it repels the dirt

It was either the middle of the night or the very early morning, and it was freezing out, so cold that even the thermis rune Isabelle had put on herself weren't doing much to keep her from shivering as she pushed open the door of Magnus's apartment building and ducked inside. After being buzzed up, she headed up the stairs, trailing her hand along the splintering banister. Part of her wanted to rush up the steps, knowing Alec was there and would understand what she was feeling (apart from the nausea, perhaps). The other part of her, the part that had hidden her parents' secret from her brothers all her life, wanted to curl up on the landing and be alone with her misery. The part that hated relying on anyone else — because wouldn't they just let you down? — and was proud to say that Isabelle Lightwood didn't need anyone reminded herself that she was here because they had asked for her. They needed her. Isabelle didn't mind being needed. Liked it, in fact. It was why it had taken her longer to warm up to Jace when he had first stepped through the Portal from Idris, a thin ten-year-old boy with haunted pale gold eyes. Alec had been delighted with him immediately, but Isabelle had resented his self-possession. When her mother had told her that Jace's father had been murdered in front of him, she'd imagined him coming to her tearfully, for comfort and even advice. But he hadn't seemed to need anyone. Even at ten years old he'd had a sharp, defensive wit and an acidic temperament. In fact, Isabelle had thought, dismayed, that he was just like her.

( In the end it was Shadowhunting they had bonded over. )

Isabelle settled down in Magnus' guest room, and did her best to go to sleep after changing into her commandeered pajama. But not before sending out a text. Long overdue.

[ooc: NFB, for that other guy. From CoLS again.]