The Shadowhunter

Sandar wakes up in a stranger's bed, flipping over to see an empty bed. For a second, she's scared they've already left her alone, then she hears the clatter of cutlery and the smell of tortilla chips and guacamole. She had jokingly mentioned that since she didn't eat breakfast she would have settled for chips in the morning. She can't believe they remembered, she can't believe she's in love with a one-night stand. Their head pops in and Sandar grins, that small cute smile that's always worked on them.

Then, she wakes up for real.

It is not a stranger's bed, it is unfortunately somebody she knows far too well. She groans, smelling something very different and definitely healthier than chips. She sighs, snatching up the uniform already pressed and folded next to the bed. She's about to head into the washroom, but looks over at the warlock's bed and deems it worthy of being messed up. She kicks at the sheets, slapping the pillow off the bed and ruffles the bedsheets a little more. She feels like an artiste, creativity spilling over. She straightens and examines her work with a proud smile that drops off her face, replaced with one of annoyance as she remembers her dream before she heads off to the shower.

She washes up quickly, even if she hadn't, she knows the male outside would never interrupt her. Slipping into her clothes, she looks into the mirror pausing before she sighs reluctantly carrying herself out into the living room.

The black haired boy, she says boy because she knows for a fact he had stopped aging the moment he reached sixteen, straightens the moment he sees her. He's nervous, sitting on the couch, as he tries to sense whether or not she's pissed off enough to kill him.

(She is, actually.)

Isaac fiddles a little with his antlers, a telltale sign of nervousness which developed into a habit now that he has to be stuck to Sandar, a constant source of his anxiety. She reaches the table where a hangover meal has been prepared. As much as she hated Downworlders, she mused, at least this one knew how to cook. She sighs and picks up the warm bowl of chicken noodle soup, reminiscing about the chips the person in her dream had cooked for her, before downing the hot soup. It's not half bad. After she's done she glances over at the cup of yellow milk Isaac's prepared for her. It looks like shit.

"Oi, did you not get the usual brand of banana milk? Why do I even need milk, dude, I have a hangover not broken bones."

Isaac hesitates, opening his mouth to say something then seemingly regretting it, closes it again nodding to agree with Sandar.

"Yeah, I'll, uh, get our usual brand next time, sorry."

Sandar glares suspiciously at the male, before downing the glass in one go. Maybe she should have figured that the smell was an indicator for her to not drink it.

"Ugh, what the fuck, Isaac! What the fuck was that?"

Isaac immediately gets to his feet, rising from the couch as he slowly backs away from Sandar. Despite her being physically older than him, he still has the upper hand in height and the fact that she has no weapons on her is a very good indicator that he could very well run away from this situation without getting injured. She sees his eyes dart to his front door and she starts towards it, standing menacingly in front of it, blocking his escape route.

"I'll ask you again. What. Was. It?"

Isaac gulps nervously before sighing, tugging at his antlers again, trying to sweep his hair out of them.

"Raw egg yolks," he sees Sandar's face and continues quickly, "look I heard they were good for hangovers! Your boss told me to!"

Sandar pauses at that, she supposes that if it were the Shadowhunter that told him to do it it was fine. She still glares over at Isaac and asks for water to clear the foul taste in her mouth though.

"Fine, then. Let's go. But I swear to god, you better tell me next time."

"Would you drink it if I told you?"

"I-Of course I would!"

She's sure she hears Isaac mutter 'liar' under his breath but she'll let him have that one. He wasn't that far off after all. She tugs at her uniform, at her pigtails and looks at herself in the mirror. She gives her reflection a small smile once she sees that she looks neat, perfect. She nods at Isaac, beckoning him over with a finger, and he nearly trips over himself to get to her. She places a hand over his, closing her eyes as the bright green light envelops them. Opening her eyes, she finds herself back in Idris.

She is home.

Someone behind her speaks. "Damn, you're such an idiot."

Maybe she doesn't want to be. Sandar turns around to see the black haired Shadowhunter, a frown on her face.

"Look-" Sandar starts, "it's not my fault I was drunk. It was Isaac's!"

"What? How is this my fault?" Isaac squawks back, antlers very nearly hitting Sandar in the face.

He quickly darts back out of reach as Sandar snarls, reaching into her coat for her dagger, before remembering she doesn't have it. Sighing, she goes ahead and walks towards the direction of the weapon racks, ignoring as Sydney laments about her lack of respect for her elders. Leaving behind her arsenal had been a terrible idea, so it was clearly Isaac's idea. She should have figured leaving behind her weapons in a Downworlder club was ridiculous. Especially since Sydney had all of hers yesterday, plus they had a Mundane with them to protect. Yet, she left her weapons behind, at the very least she should have brought her daggers. Sandar of Mundanes, where was she?

"Oi, where's Estelle? I swear she was just with us yesterday."

It's Isaac that responds. "She left to flirt with a vamp. I assume they left together, don't worry, I'll go check up on her later."

Both shadowhunters frown at that. Isaac notices this and rolls his eyes.

"Look, I know the vampire. She's cool, she doesn't attack Mundies. Plus she's also incredibly famous among the Mundies. How do you not know her?"

"It's called not being aware of trends and lacking a social life. Anyway, Sandar, there was a case yesterday. A couple of Mundanes were attacked close to the bar yesterday, go check on it. It's probably just a fledgling or something based on the bodies, but be careful when getting rid of it anyway."

The black haired girl pauses, looking over at Isaac, a silent command in her eyes. The warlock hesitates, before turning his back on them, walking to the gates to wait for them to finish their conversation. Sydney turns back to Sandar, scanning her, an expression of clear disgust on her face. She hands over the file, careful not to touch her, she pauses for a second before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. Leaning in close, still somehow managing to avoid any contact with the smaller girl, she whispers menacingly into her ear.

"Clean yourself, Shadowhunter, I can practically smell the Warlock on you. Don't return it, just dispose of it cleanly."

The handkerchief is practically thrown into Sandar's face, by the time she's got it out of her face, the member of the Clave is already quite far away. She's not an idiot, she knows the hidden meaning of her superior's words. She doesn't understand why Sydney would have to say it though, she has gotten rid of plenty of Vampires before. She hasn't had sympathy for any of them before, is her friendship with the mundane and warlock affecting her reputation? Of course it would. Even though her relationship with Isaac was only established because the Clave had asked her to keep an eye out for the betrayal that would inevitably come, she was still going to be scrutinised for it. That made so much fucking sense.

Sighing, she makes her way towards Isaac, rubbing the handkerchief across her hand furiously. She'll show those fuckers, she's perfectly capable of getting rid of one stupid Fledgling.