Isabelle
Isabelle sat on the steps of the Institute patiently waiting for Simon who was late, as usual. Her silky seal black hair flew graciously down her back. She wore a knee length maroon dress lined with gold thread, with long black lace sleeves that perfectly matched her hair. The brown boots she had on looked worn and old, yet they suited her well, though most outfits or accessories usually looked fabulous on Isabelle.
She was quickly losing her patience as the minutes ticked by, as she had never been a patient person, Simon still hadn't arrived. She was trying to stay calm, but when you are a Shadowhunter you learn that you need to worry. She remembered when Alec had been stabbed by a Greater Demon. He would have died if it hadn't been for Magnus Bane. It was difficult for her to just call him Magnus. Alec and Magnus were cute together, she had to admit, and anything that made her brother happy made her happy.
As she waited, fiddling with her thin pale fingers, she recalled her birthday. Simon had placed dinner reservations at Taki's. She was sitting there fiddling with her fingers, something she did fairly often. As she learned later, Simon had been buying flowers when he ran into Eric. Simon had approached Eric, asking why he of all people was buying flowers. Eric told him about his sister's wedding this Saturday, and that he was looking at flowers for the tables at the reception. Eric practically shoved Simon out the door of the flower shop, saying he needed a tux, and Simon, being Simon, was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She called his cell, a few times, and then realized Simon probably didn't have it. He, having a short term memory, usually forgot it some place or another. He made up for not texting her often though. He was goofy, enthusiastic, loving, comedic, charming, and attractive—thank you vampire attractiveness.
She eventually left Taki's and returned home, to the Institute, after waiting an hour. It had been raining and her hair stuck to her cheeks which were rosy against her paleness. She went up the elevator, reached her room, and entered. As she closed the old wooden door she leaned back against it.
Inside the room to her surprise sat Simon, who was sitting on her bed holding a box wrapped in packing paper. She was so furious, yet was conflicted when she felt her heart skips a beat as she found herself leaping towards the young vampire, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Simon usually would have said something nerdy, yet charming, but instead was entirely silent. She placed her hands on his cheek and watched his eyes glance into hers locking into place. The way he looked at her seemed like a key in a locked door, a perfect fit, that only one key could unlock.
They seemed to look at each other forever until he lifted up a pamphlet. On it was an awkward looing Eric in a tux that seemed to tighten in the wrong places. Underneath the picture, Isabelle read "Best Man".
Simon began to tell the story of the horrors of shopping with Eric. As he finished, he grabbed hold firmly of the package that she now realized was wrapped with a gold bow, the same color as her whip. She pulled on the ribbon, when he placed it in her hands.
As the ribbon fell, so did the packing paper. In it sat a copper coated locket. She looked to him seeking approval to open it, and he nodded. Inside was a picture of them in Central Park near the entrance to the Seelie Queen's Court. They were holding each other with extreme care, looking into each other's dark eyes.
In response to the gift she unlocked the clasp on the locket and in turn handed it to Simon. He swept her night black hair to one side, and clipped the clasp into place.
Isabelle swiftly turned to look into his eyes. She reached for his face, pore less. She swept his dark brown hair behind his ear. The light from her lamp hit his face making his dark eyes seem to glow. She leaned in closer and gently brushed his lips with her own. He pulled her in, as they embraced, their bodies fit into each other's like a jigsaw puzzle. He tucked her long dark hair behind her ear and leaned in again to kiss her. Her lips tasted like vanilla, well at least she smelled like vanilla perfume giving Simon the illusion that she tasted of vanilla. Her hands laced through his.
When they finally stopped kissing, she leaned her forehead against his breathing heavily, remembering that she had to breath. Her minds always played tricks on her like that. Kissing him felt like the only air she needed. Her breathing slowed, Simon had his hand on her waist and he whispered "Happy Birthday", her heart skipping a beat.
Recalling the memory gave her bliss, but she still longed for Simon. Her eyes were fixed on the gates of the Institute, when she heard the noise, loud as a siren. It was a strange, unfamiliar sound that was similar to breathing but twenty times louder. She changed her gaze to the garden and saw a navy blue telephone box appearing out of thin air.
She was reaching for her whip when the doors opened and a man in a tweed jacket and bowtie climbed out. His voice was young but his eyes were old and filled with sorrow. They looked like a shadowhunter's eyes.
"Hello. I'm the Doctor. I'd love to talk over Jammy Dodgers and tea, but…" He stepped aside, and behind him stood a boy with brown hair and glasses.
"Max."