Some past, some present. Anyway, finally hit 200k words with this so I wish I had something more exciting hahaha!

"I hated the Academy."

Steff glances over, but finds Connor is looking straight ahead at nothing in particular. "It's okay. I don't think I would have fit in very much either."

"I think you would have been okay there," he said, sounding rather matter of fact. "Maybe it was just the system that sucked. I mean, it wasn't like I couldn't do the material. That part was easy. I don't think the Academy realizes how elitist they make all of their students. Like everyone else is wrong and their way is the only way to function in the Shadow World."

Sometimes she isn't entirely sure what to say to him, and she thinks it might be because he seems a little angry. Like he's a little mad at the world but he doesn't have the emotional fluency to deal with it correctly, so he's short-tempered and biting even if he doesn't mean to be. Now, though, he's talking a little fast and every now and again, she can hear the lilt of an accent when he's not trying hard enough to sound like a New York native. He speaks with his hands too, moving them to emphasize his points.

His words end and he goes back to looking sad. It's a quieter sort of sad and Steff knows exactly how it feels. She doesn't know what to say again, and she doesn't reach over to touch his shoulder or anything like that. He doesn't like to be comforted, she can tell, and her fingers smooth a crease in her pants instead.

"I don't know." He finally breaks the silence again, crossing his arms into himself. "I just don't ever know if I'm doing the right thing because it doesn't feel like it."

There isn't much that feels she can say without sounding like some cheesy, inspirational card, but it's easy to empathize. She knows her own tendency to go down paths that feel right that others would deem as incorrect, and also how it feels to be on the wrong side of justice. It's not easy to marry those varying sentiments and even now, she struggles.

"I don't think that feeling ever goes away. And I don't think right or wrong ever becomes easier to discern," she sighs, looking over at him to try and indicate some sincerity. "I just try to...make decisions that leave me with the least amount of regret. I think that's all we can do."

"And does it help?" he asks, curious as he looks over to meet her gaze.

Sheepishly, she shrugs, curling a finger in her hair. "I'm not sure. I think I still regret a lot of things, honestly."

"Yeah, go figure." Still, he cracks the slightest smile, looking ahead again with the relief of someone who's just gotten something off their chest. "I guess there's no hope for the rest of us if even you struggle."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," she says, stretching out her legs off the stairs that they were seated on. "I like to think that there's hope for all of us yet."

Isaac's room was silent before Vanesa had let herself in, the rustle of cool air from the hall and the click of the door drawing him from his work. What she wanted, he didn't know, but he continued with his task nevertheless, knowing she would alert him to whatever she had come to talk about. She was a common presence in his life at the São Paulo Institute, as she was one of the only Shadowhunters close to his age there and she volunteered to look into things with him more often than not. The number of late nights spent looking over reports with one another was in the dozens, and he had to admit that company sometimes made tedious work a little more tolerable.

She didn't speak just yet, his pen moving across the paper undisturbed, but he could hear her close the door behind her and start closer. Boots against the wooden floor. So she was dressed in gear, likely back from a demon hunt or after one of the faerie cartels they'd been tracking for weeks.

"E aí, Isaac. Why haven't you gone to bed?" Vanesa reached out to squeeze his shoulder lightly, letting her hand rest there as she peered over his shoulder. "This could all be finished tomorrow, you know."

"It's better to do things early. The Clave's been on my back about finishing these texts for a while," he said finally, trying to unscramble the complicated grammar of the Seelie dialect that he was trying to decipher. It would be checked and proofread by someone in the Clave, but he had always disliked putting out anything less than his best work. "If I fall behind, they've made it clear that they'll give my position to someone else."

"They don't threaten normal Shadowhunters with that kind of thing," she remarked before catching herself and giving an apologetic sigh. "Sorry. You know what I mean."

At any other person, he would have been a little irked, but she'd made it clear in the past that she didn't mind his blood. He had enough respect for her anyway, both for her fighting skills, which out-rivaled his own, and the work ethic she had at her Institute. Those off-hand remarks of hers that inadvertently made him seem different or separate from other Shadowhunters could be brushed to the side.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say my parents will be at the Curitiba Institute for a while next month." If Isaac was correct, she started to sound almost apprehensive, though he didn't understand why she'd be feeling such a way. "Do you want to go down with me? We could Portal in for a day or two."

He set his pen down, rubbing his forehead lightly with the back of his hand. "I'm really busy with Clave work. I have a lot of loose ends to tie up this whole next month-"

"The Clave this, the Clave that. Eu sei, eu sei..." An exasperated sigh left her, used to those words. "They haven't even met you yet, though. They're going to start getting suspicious if you never show up."

"I'm leaving for New York soon," he said as an excuse, hoping to quell her requests of him. "That's why things are so busy. I don't have enough time to deal with social calls."

"...You couldn't tell me that any earlier?" She clicked her tongue in admonishment, removing her hand from his shoulder so she could instead cross her arms. "Que egoísta. Did you even think to give me more notice? And for the record, meeting my parents isn't just a social call."

It didn't quite make sense to him why she was so hung up on the visit. She knew of his priorities and his responsibilities, having expressed them a number of times, and it was difficult for him to understand why she suddenly seemed to have a problem with it, especially when he didn't deem them as being particularly close.

"I've already planned my schedule out. You should have told me earlier if this was that urgent for you." It was the most reasonable thing to tell her, it felt like, but it didn't seem to smooth over her expression. "It's too late to add appointments and so forth without interrupting my work."

"So that's it?" She looked stunned, making a noise that middled between a laugh and a scoff. "I'm an...an appointment to you?"

He thought that perhaps he'd said the wrong thing, but he struggled with knowing what she wanted to hear from him, having thought that his honesty was enough. "I'm just busy. It's not that complicated."

But Vanesa had already taken a step back, giving a shake of her head with disappointment that hung in the air. "You always do this. Like I'm not important."

"The Clave-"

"Yeah, ninguém liga, Isaac. You know that, right?" she remarked back at him, already at the door to let herself out, leaving it just partially closed behind her. It only took a moment for the sound of her steps to swiftly disappear down the hall and Isaac was quickly out of his chair to shut the door properly. The feeling of annoyance and guilt nagged for a minute even as he sat back down at his desk to resume. Things were often made complicated by other people and he couldn't help but think that things were simpler when he was alone.

"you look like your father."

she stares at him with a face that must have been beautiful once, but it is too vacant and empty to garner much more than the passing admiration of a pretty vase. even her words sag under the weight of her indifference, the tiny calla lily on her cheek seeming wilted on her cheek despite its full petals and sharp outline. still, she lets Aspen inside, shuffling silently to shut the door. it comes to no surprise that the inside of her temporary home is equally as lifeless, vintage furniture and expensive decor haunted by the ghosts that used to live there.

"i'm only staying in the state for a year," she says, drawing Aspen's gaze. "after that, you have to leave."

"A year is all I need, really."

"very well."

"What should I call you? What...did I call you?"

"ophelia is fine."

"...Ophelia it is."

he can feel the smallness of Nyx's Aspen rising up in his throat. it subdues his words and makes him feel needy, grasping onto any indication that might assure him that his presence might be wanted, welcomed, or enjoyed. even hatred would have been better than the distant acknowledgement he feels as she watches him, judging his features and the way he stands. when he doesn't know what to do, he unclips the dull blades from his hips and sets them on a nearby bench.

"When I found your address," he started, turning back to her, "I wrote you a dozen letters. Did you get them all? I couldn't tell, considering I only got one reply."

"i got them."

her voice is void of any urge to elaborate, giving his face a long stare. he stares back, not knowing what else to do. while he is used to being the subject of attention and novelty, he is uncertain of what one is supposed to do in the presence of a parent.

"you used to look more like me." she carries lamentations in her words as she mourns her loss, turning to walk back to her bedroom. his expression remains unchanged, unsure of what sort of face she had expected from him. that is the one thing he has always been certain of; at least, it is the one thing he has always been complimented on, but even now, it seems to exist without benefiting him in any way. he cannot stop himself from yearning to be someone he is not. he is not even sure of who he is now.

Stephanie,

'You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.' Not my choice of genre, but a popular book in France and a rather suitable quote for our relationship. And I say that to get a rise out of you, of course. It has been a while, hasn't it? I aspire to be some kind of perduring, parasitic force in this world, showing up when it's least convenient.

But I'll keep this succinct.

I'll be in New York the very start of next month. More specifically, I've already made plans to frequent the jazz club at the Kitano Hotel each night. That's an invitation, of course, mostly to indulge our shared curiosity in where the other person has ended up after all this time. If you feel so inclined, bring someone along, even. As long as they won't be inclined to turn me into the Clave. You might think that the offer is foolish, but my face is scarcely known now. I've kept myself out of any trouble. In fact. I've had such an impressive streak with few crimes in the recent years, which is only impressive if you consider my temperament. I've always had a penchant for getting the best of others - even in the worst kinds of ways. If you do actually take this ridiculous offer, I'll even be on my best behaviour - no funny business, I promise.

I just thought you might like to meet my fiancée. She'd certainly enjoy meeting you.

Best,

An old acquaintance