She couldn't possibly do it.

Her hands were clammy and clutched tightly at the blood red fabric between her fingertips. The sequins scratched her palms mercilessly.

"It gets easier."

"What-?" Clary started, turning to face the girl next to her.

"I said it gets easier." She smirked, turning her gaze back into the illuminated mirrors.

Clary couldn't think of anything that would ever be easy about dressing in scant clothing to put food on the table. Just thinking about what she was going to do within the next hour was enough to make her eyes well up with tears.

"Oh hey now." The girl spoke again, this time in a slightly softer tone, and Clary was instantly embarrassed. She looked around the dimly lit dressing room, lined with mirrors and vibrant costumes, making sure no other girls saw her certain panic.

"C'mon. What's your name?"

"C-Clary." She stammered, blinking rapidly and willing her nerves away.

"Isabelle."

Clary shook her hand and really looked at her for the first time.

She was beautiful.

Her long dark hair hung in a thick curtain down her back, and she sported a haughty grin. She was tall and voluptuous and everything Clary was intimidated by. Standing at barely five feet, she suddenly felt as small as her height.

"You're not from here, are you? Are you from the mo-"

"-moon, yeah." Clary finished.

"Wow. You must feel doubly out of place."

Clary nodded, blushing all the way to her dark red roots.

"Do you need, ah-?" Isabelle trailed off, pointing to Clary's costume.

"Please."

Standing in front of Isabelle in only her underwear was pretty awkward, but being helped into her practically non-existent garment was even more so. Isabelle let out a low whistle.

"Looks like Sebastian sure wants some attention on you."

Clary stood out like a firework in the dark, but she didn't feel any spark of power or importance. All she felt was the need to burn out immediately.

"Try to stand up straighter, you know? Confidence."

Isabelle reached for her shoulders and pushed her chest out.

Clary could scarcely look at her reflection for more than a few moments. She was dressed in a lace bustier, ruffled shorts, and fishnets. From the back of her barely-there shorts, a long cloth, like a sequined tail, trailed down to her heels. All a dark, blood red, matching her hair. Her flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes only added more color.

"Fake it till you make it, babydoll. It sure does make your green eyes pop."

"Green and red, I feel like Christmas." Clary let out a morbid chuckle.

"What's Christmas?" Isabelle inquired.

"Uh...nevermind."

"Look, you're prepared. Just go out and dance like the rest of us. I'll stay by you if you want."

Clary sharply turned to the girl, who displayed the first kind gesture she had received since coming to Paris a month ago.

"Please do." Clary mumbled. She would never be ready for what she was about to do, but somehow the knowledge that this stranger would be by her side, gave her comfort.

From the ceiling above, a trumpet wailed. Most of the girls began to filter out, and Clary turned her attention back to Isabelle.

"So what kind of bohemian are you?" She asked, adding sparkles to her unnatural pink cheeks.

"How did you know?"

"Anyone who isn't a starving wouldn't be here. And you are obviously desperate. Therefore you have no income. Therefore you must be some kind of artist."

Clary shook her head, a small smile forming on her lips at the absurdity and yet sudden truth of Isabelle's reasoning.

"I'm an artist. A painter. Drawing. Occasional sculpting."

"Singer." She smirked, gesturing to herself.

"I can see that."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"You're pretty confident." Clary pointed out.

Isabelles smile remained although her eyes clouded over.

"We all do what must be done to continue."

Clary quickly changed the subject.

"Do you think you could give me a few pointers?" She asked, grasping at lipstick tubes.

Isabelle's moment of secrecy vanished as her eyes lit up once more.


"There." Isabelle pulled away, letting Clary observe herself for the first time in the mirror.

Clary gasped.

Her eyes were a shocking bottle green, framed in glitter and long dark lashes. Her lips looked bee-stung and soft. Her hair fell past her shoulders in dark waves, and her skin looked like porcelain. She felt..beautiful.

And then immediately guilty. There was nothing beautiful about what she was doing.

"I knew you looked like a babydoll!" Isabelle laughed at her aforementioned nickname for Clary.

"Or maybe bombshell. You're a knockout."

Clary had never been called any of those things before. Gently she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Oh no, no, no. None of that. Come on. It's almost time for us to go on." Isabelle grasped her hands, leading her to the ladder which lead to the floor above.

Clary felt herself start to quake.

She placed her heel on the first rung of the ladder, but found herself immoble.

"Hey." Isabelle snapped her fingers in her face.

"I know what you are. You're like me. You were in search of an infinite truth. Of beauty beyond compare, beauty that YOU created. But you failed, unfortunately. You are starving, you are desperate, and some handsome man named Sebastian saw that in you, thought you were a piece of damaged artwork. Compared you to the sun. Said he could help you. And now here you are."

Clary stared deep into Isabelle's endless eyes.

"We are. Not because we're bad people. But because we must be. We all do what must be done to continue."

Clary shot out from between Isabelle's palms, and grasped at her torso into a sudden and desperate hug. She had always been a little shy, a little untrusting. And yet, here she was hugging a stranger, the only lifeline she knew on this cold, miserable planet.

"Yeah, yeah." Isabelle brushed her off with a smirk, although not unkindly.

"Come on Clary, it's time."

Clary turned to face the ladder once more.

This time when she went to put her foot on the first step, she did not shake.


A/N: Hey everyone! I'm so excited to be writing again, and I can't tell you how OBSESSED I am with The Mortal Instruments. I'm just enamored. If you haven't read it already, GO. I seriously am dying with anticipation for the movie. (August 21st, USA). Lily Collins is my biggest girl crush, and Jamie Campbell Bower is just the perfect Jace. I picture them as I write. Anyway, I hope this steampunk/Moulin Rouge phase I'm writing is satisfying and not too corny. More details about Clary and her circumstance will be revealed in time. As for Jace, his appearance will be just around the corner. (Possibly literally...? ;] )
Let me know what y'all think, and please enjoy!