Isabelle Lightwood (
seveninchmotto) wrote2014-12-04 08:24 pm
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Room 301, Thursday Afternoon
Isabelle had looked at some family photos earlier this morning. That was normal. Normal-ish. Normal enough for how things had been going lately. With Max's death, and the holidays coming up, and all the drama with Flick –– well, who could blame her for wanting to spend some time thinking about her family.
She knew she'd put all the photos away, though. And yet when she came back to her room after a while, she could see already from the door that one of them was out on her desk. When she came closer, she saw which one it was. It had her mother and father with Max, when he'd been barely older than a toddler. She'd liked it, even with all the pain it caused for a variety of reasons.
Except now, it had been defaced. Her parents' eyes had been scratched out. Isabelle picked up the photo, and looked back at the door. Had someone been to her room when she'd been out? Gremlins? Why would they do something like this to someone's family photos?
She looked back down at the photograph.
They deserve it, anyway. They all deserve it.
... Had she thought that? Why would she ever think that?
Maybe she needed to go back to bed.
[ooc: Door halfway open, post completely so! Also creepy and unsure of sanity. ETA: Warning for some possessed violence!]
She knew she'd put all the photos away, though. And yet when she came back to her room after a while, she could see already from the door that one of them was out on her desk. When she came closer, she saw which one it was. It had her mother and father with Max, when he'd been barely older than a toddler. She'd liked it, even with all the pain it caused for a variety of reasons.
Except now, it had been defaced. Her parents' eyes had been scratched out. Isabelle picked up the photo, and looked back at the door. Had someone been to her room when she'd been out? Gremlins? Why would they do something like this to someone's family photos?
She looked back down at the photograph.
They deserve it, anyway. They all deserve it.
... Had she thought that? Why would she ever think that?
Maybe she needed to go back to bed.
[ooc: Door halfway open, post completely so! Also creepy and unsure of sanity. ETA: Warning for some possessed violence!]
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She'd just moved past the big mirror. Her head whipped towards it, but there was nothing there. And yet she was sure her reflection had just looked like it was wearing an old-fashioned black gown.
Okay then.
"Uh, I mean... I'm sure you'll get your alertness back up eventually."
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Great way to not seem distracted, Izzy. Really great. She pushed her hair back and looked away from the mirror.
"I guess I'm just tired too."
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"All right," he finally said. "If you say so."
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Then her hand stilled. And her face went blank. And her hand pulled away from his cheek – only to come back fast to strike him across the face. Think quick, Flick.
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That stung because she was not a weak woman. Flick's head whipped to one side and he turned back to her, eyes blazing and expression completely changed.
"Isabelle, what the fuck was that?" he snapped. "What the hell?"
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Then she looked absolutely horrified. "Oh my God," she gasped. "I'm so, so sorry. I don't –- are you okay?"
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Too bad she didn't have an answer. She was just looking at her hand like she'd never seen it before. Her palm was stinging a little from the slap.
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She curled her hand into a fist so that her nails dug into her skin.
"You have to go."
She needed to figure this out without him. If the stress had finally gotten to her so badly that she spontaneously hit him? Yeah, that wasn't something he could be around for.
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She didn't have an answer that didn't make her sound or feel a little off her rocker.
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Isabelle swallowed. "I just need you to not be here right now. I'm sorry."
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And he was off down the hall and out of sight soon enough.