It was always this. Always the same. Clary settled into the usual repeat of the dream.
She was lying in a soft bed, in a plain room. The plaster walls were familiar, as was everything in this dream; from the knotted and twisted wooden beams on the ceiling that had small imperfections, to the musky mouth-watering scent that the room held.
As always, she sat up, her head spinning slightly, awoken by the sound of something crashing against a wall and shattering. Her feet felt heavy and her arm was in a sling.
She was wearing a pair of oversized pyjama's, her bare feet making no sound on the cool hardwood floor as she left the room and followed her ears toward the culprit of her awakening.
She trailed her fingers on the walls. She smiled at the lamps flickering playfully. Finally, she reached her goal. It seemed to be some sort of music with countless instruments inside, including a sleek grand piano. The door was open a crack. Inside, there were two people: a boy and a girl.
The girl was beautiful, a goddess really. An inky spill of jet-black hair whipped around her as she fought the boy. She yelled passionately at the boy, fisting another priceless-looking vase in her hands and reeling her arm back to throw it at him.
The boy though, he was much more beautiful than the girl yelling at him was. Her face might as well have been painted by an amateur artist to his perfectly refined and golden Michael Angelo face.
Looking at him made Clary slightly queasy. She came to the realization that she should be listening to what they were saying, or rather, arguing.
"You can't do this to her! I won't stand for it! It's her life. After all this time, you can still imagine that? Some things can't be smothered, Jace." The girl shouted. Clary wondered vaguely if they were talking about her.
"Isabelle-" The boy called Jace responded; ducking at the vase flung at him with perfect aim. The Isabelle girl interrupted him abruptly.
"No, Jace. Don't give me your excuses, she's not going to let you march off with her on your arm to- to-" Isabelle swallowed as her eyes became bloodshot. She threw another vase. Jace caught it.
"To what, Isabelle? I'm not going to force her to do it, but I think I can convince her." His voice was steely.
"Convince her? Convince her?" The words seemed to only further infuriate Isabelle. She turned around and found there were no more vases to throw at Jace. Her face was red with anger as she proceeded to walk over to him.
"She loves you." Isabelle whispered the words, but they seemed to have more pent up emotion and meaning than everything else that she had said. The boys face went rigid and blank, unreadable. Still, Clary thought that she could she sorrow in his eyes.
When the boy didn't respond, Isabelle began to throw punches, tears leaving trails down her cheeks. Jace countered each of her attacks with ease.
"Please Isabelle, stop this. I don't want to hurt you." He said. Isabelle simply shook her head.
After a while, Jace groaned and grabbed both of her arms and threw them down. His eyes turned hard.
This was always Clary's least favourite part of the dream, when the boy came.
She felt frozen, like a deer in the headlights of a car. She wanted desperately to run, to escape the rest of the dream, but, as always, she was speechless and paralyzed.
Jace walked fluidly out the room, his jaw set. His eyes fell on her.
Clary just looked at him dumbly. She was so simply confused. She was afraid of the look in his eyes.
Usually, at this point in the dream Clary woke up here in tears. Not tonight.
"Come on, there's something I have to tell you." He said.
Clary didn't budge. She looked at him. She was filled with dread.
"I said, Come on!" Jace yelled. He grabbed Clary's arm and dragged her through hallways and corridors and up a spiral staircase. He had led her into some sort of greenhouse. It didn't seem very beautiful with Jace looking at her so darkly.