dream ♦ 002

[nolessthanseven]

Warnings None.
Effects A general feeling of discomfort throughout, like you're being watched.

A chill breeze cut through Isabelle, as if her velvet coat didn't even exist; it tore at her hair, whipping the long longs around with abandon. She gave an involuntary shiver, peering through the unfamiliar territory, the blackness of everything surrounding her. Trees all around, a thick fog nudging her along despite her desire to simply stay in one place.

She thought she could hear something behind her; the Shadowhunter turned, hands tightening their grip on the lapels of the green velvet as she pulled it tighter around her, a weak attempt at keeping the cold out. Questions lingered on the tip of her tongue, eager to be asked to nothing more than the crisp night, black and foreboding. A crunch of leaves, of twigs to one side, and her hair fell in its long sheet as Isabelle glanced with wide black eyes to the company. Her hand moved to grasp at her whip, to no avail - there was nothing there. No familiar glint of gold, no handles of her daggers or her Seraph blades. No stele.

Her breath caught in her throat as another crunch sounded in the silence, the fog seemingly growing thicker at her feet. She took an unwilling step in the opposite direction, boot-clad feet stumbling slightly over the uneven ground as she began to run. A rune on the back of her calf burned from use as she ran faster and faster away from the beckoning darkness behind her, clambering closer despite her Nephilim speed. She couldn't escape, no matter what how she tried; cold tendrils seemed to ghost against her back, licking at the hem of her skirt and nipping through to her skin, just as the cold had not moments before.

Another shiver went down her spine as Izzy forced herself to stop, dirt crumbling as the ground seemed to drop away suddenly. The fog dissipated slightly, pushing her forward yet, almost as a sentient being might. She swallowed back nervousness, forcing herself to stand strong - someone had to be around, she couldn't be alone in the world. Her brothers? Alec? Jace? Even Max would be nice.

If nothing else, they'd be more helpful than the distinct lack of her weapons.

Feeling rather vulnerable, Isabelle stared down into the chasm, dark as the eye could see, despite the dirt crumbling down into the distance. Her arms moved to hug her body, the shivers continuing and growing more violent. She looked up again, staring off into the foggy distance, furrowing her brow in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what lingered beyond.

Graves, she realised, a gasp of surprise escaping her; the thing at her feet was an empty grave, waiting simply for the next body to reside below. She took a step back again, hands searching again for one of her weapons, something she could make use of. A name, a memory on her mind, on her lips - she thought of Simon then, shuddering at the thought of sitting in that cemetery waiting for him to rise. Black eyes shut tight suddenly, teeth biting nervously at her lower lip as she wished desperately to be anywhere but there.

"Did you bring the candles?"

A voice, bizarrely calm, asked her from behind, silent in its approach - that young man she had gone to the cemetery with the past week. Snuck out of the mansion with a bag of candles. They weren't there now; she had nothing but the clothes on her back. Izzy turned to look at him, frowning her visible confusion. Cain simply raised one eyebrow, shrugging and rolling his eyes as he disappeared back into the darkness. She was in half a mind to call out after him, one hand twitching to reach for the companion she'd had only momentarily. But he was gone before she could even open her mouth.

Another voice, more familiar than the last, tsked behind her awkwardly, as if trying to get her attention. She turned again, glancing with narrowed eyes at the small redheaded girl cowering nearby, head tilted.

"Did he suffer, Isabelle?" Clary asked, looking nervous as ever. Izzy made no move to reply to her, fully aware of how the other girl had been so stubborn at the site of Simon's rebirth.

"Maybe we should have just let him go..."

The black-haired girl stopped, eyes widening again in surprise. Those hadn't been her words; Clary had never said anything like that. She had been vehemently against it, retorting venomously against Isabelle for the suggestion. She stepped back, shivering again at the surreal landscape around her, the black trees, open graves at her feet. Cain's disappearance, Clary replacing him, now staring up at her hopefully with those wide, hopeful eyes.

She continued to back up, floundering as she tried for some reply, but found none; another audible gasp caught in her throat as a pair of hands, strong and gentle, touched her shoulders. Suddenly, Isabelle felt snared, bare beneath those hands, as if her coat hadn't even been there; she glanced over her shoulder, eyes meeting Irial's as he regarded her silently. Finally, he gave her some undecipherable look, something that made her feel dirty and used, before stepping away, disappearing just as Cain had into the darkness, fog devouring him back into the dreadful terrain.

Unaware she had even been holding her breath, Izzy let it out in one long exhale, trying to relax where she stood, once again alone. Each hallucination had disappeared as quickly as they had come about, barely satisfying her need for company in the gloom. She shut her eyes again, willing herself to find 'home', wherever it was. Alicante, New York...not here.

Without warning, a hand wrapped itself around her ankle, a gasp accompanying it - just whose voice uttered the sound was beyond Izzy, though she was fully aware the scream following was hers.

Isabelle woke with a start, gasping for air as she shivered, clearly chilled to the bone from the dream. Trying to keep her mind off it - and what it might have meant - she forced herself to roll over, burying her face back in her pillows.