nysalogs | ( CLOSED )

[ true to her word, clary appears at clarke's door as it nears evening, clearly more excitable by the idea of dragging clarke along with her for this shopping expedition than the other woman. that's no matter; she's content to know she'd managed to convince her into something indulgent, as absurd as she knows clarke might find it to be. still, if there's anyone that deserves a break, some fun — whether it requires a suitable dress or otherwise — clary trusts that its clarke.

besides, it isn't completely selfless. having a friend to join her is a balm to the ache of izzy's absence, knowing it would be her own hand yanked along for the ride as isabelle tosses dress after dress in her direction if that were the case. clarke isn't a replacement, but she is a reminder of clary's potential loneliness, if she were to disappear. ]

What kind of colors do you like?

[ maybe it's an odd question as clary thumbs through fabrics and dresses, but clarke is an artist; she must have an eye for palettes in some sense, and a preference that will make this an easier task. ]

[clarke definitely thought this was absurd but despite her opinions, she does decide to give it a chance. it's not long after clary appears at her door that they're on their way and soon entering one of the dress shops.

she knows that even though she has been here for months already, things like this still feel surreal to her. she watches as clary starts looking through the dresses because honestly she isn't even sure where to start looking herself. hearing the question she pauses to consider that for a moment]

You mean so we can narrow this down? [clarke was so used to having very limited choice, only going with what she had or was given to her that it was still surreal to her having this much choice available to her. she didn't really have a preference much and that probably made it a bit more difficult given her mindset about all this]

Yeah. Something like that.

[ or they might be there for the foreseeable future until clarke agrees on something — anything, really, so long as she seems mildly content with the choice.
for the moment, there's far too much to sift through, and clary can't rightfully say she knows much about clarke's tastes. for all that they've shared, that's been an inconsequential detail, though — if she had to make a guess — clary would assume practical, utilitarian.

that hardly helps when it comes to dresses. ]

Unless you want to end up in this number.

[ which is, for the record, a blindingly bright yellow mess of ruffles and lace that she holds up with clear amusement. ]

[clarke just stares at the blindingly yellow dress in slight awe before she laughs because yeah that was definitely not at all the type of dress she wanted to be wearing to the gala] Yeah— that's definitely not what I want to be wearing.

I'd prefer something more simple and not too fancy. [and basically the opposite of that dress that clary just showed her]

Got it. No Big Bird.

[ because that dress certainly looks like someone slaughtered him for its creation. she sets it back on its hanger neatly, a more productive use of her time than taking a moment to explain what big bird is to clarke. at this point, she's gotten used to most of her references flying by most people, anyway. ]

What qualifies as "not too fancy"? Are we talking really plain or just "please don't drown me in ruffles and rhinestones"?

[ not that clary would, but it's good to know where clarke's preferences are in a more specific sense instead of pulling dress after dress into a pile of possible choices. ]

[clake has gotten used to not understanding certain references from people in general so most of the time she just skips over asking the meaning behind it and just focuses on her question]

More like please don't drown me in ruffles and rhinestones. [she is okay with it being somewhere in between plain and a little fancy mostly because she is thinking this is going to be a one time thing] Hopefully that helps a little?

It helps a little?

[ and only a little, as she hadn't intended to suffocate clarke with rhinestones and ruffles, anyway. it gives her a place to begin, nevertheless, and it's through racks of plain red silk fabric she goes, pulling out one dress before heading to another — blue, this time, and shorter — and topping it off with something a little more floral, a little more pink, a little more extravagant. ]

Hold out your arms. [ because she's about to drop these gowns right in them and force clarke toward the dressing room. ] We have a few options now.

[clarke has a feeling it just barely helps and she wishes that this was easier for her but out of all the things she excels at, this isn't one of them so she just watches as clary searches through the racks of dresses before pulling out a couple]

Okay— [she just nods, holding our her arms as requested just staring at the dresses that clary hands them over to her. from a brief once over the dresses that clary picked out don't seem to be so it's definitely a start at least] This is the part where I'm trying them on, right?

[ it's winding down into night when she chooses to approach the stranger she's assuming eggsy characteristically charmed into a set of matching velvet. hesitation hasn't stayed her hand or curbed her curiosity, but the time occupied dragging familiar faces to and fro — either near the balcony for fresh air and quiet conversation, or the dancing she's somehow convinced most of them to engage with her — has, almost predictably. she doubts she can be blamed much for that revelry, truly; those reminders of october's infection haven't faded, even months after the hallucinations and delirium, and the festivities have a way of bringing out a mirth she refuses to take for granted, especially now.

it might be the first holiday she's had to endure without her mother, but she's still bright smiles — sheepish as it looks to be potentially interrupting someone that might prefer different company — and friendliness when she finds him near the tables, the chill of night air still lingering on her skin from her foray into the balcony area earlier. ]

Hey. [ not the best introduction for possibly pestering a stranger, so she makes another attempt. ] You're Eggsy's friend, right? Date. Friend date.

[ #nailed it. ]

[ the night is indeed winding down, and james is (prematurely) feeling quite good about how the night has gone. it's not quite midnight, but close enough, and eggsy has been good. having fun. james has done a bit of dancing himself, too, moving between acquaintances and friends alike, trying some of the competitions, enjoying the night. it's been almost just about what he's need, given the struggle of the last few weeks.

it's been just about perfect, really, despite it all. despite the hole in his chest, the ache in his gut. there's a dark spot at each of his sides that he's done an expert job in ignoring, tonight, with massive amounts of help, and the overconfident part of him thinks that maybe, maybe, he can get through this night. without thinking about christmas, without thinking about home.

and the thing is, it's not the first time this has happened. that friends of eggsy have come up to talk to him, people he's heard of in the peripheral or who he's seen from time to time finally in a place for him to see. the hey pulls his attention easily, finishing up with whatever drink he'd been nursing as he fluidly sets it down and turns with a smile - bright and easy and telling of his usual hosting/social prowess. ]

Friend-date's a new one, but you're not- [ and then he stops, freezes in his spot, the smile hanging a bit awkwardly on his face. ] Wrong.

[ oh. oh merlin. in the following second, the smile starts to fade, his entire body feeling a bit like he's been dropped back into that icy tundra, skipping from half a breath to half of the next.

it's...it can't. could it? would she?

sorry, clary. you've kind of...broken james for a second. ]

[ the start of his response is fine, smooth, and she relaxes infinitesimally as a result. being a shadowhunter hasn't made her the most sociable in a world where normal is an impossible goal, but it's different here, now that she isn't dictated by the clave's rules — those laws most refuse to bend or break, though she supposes she's done just that with how many ordinary people who know what and who she is now. maybe she's hellbent on making up for it in a way, taking hold of that newly discovered freedom, when it allows her to feel as ordinary and as welcome as she does.

smiling is easier, falling into step with conversation is easier, but that expression when he fully faces her isn't so simple to cope with. her smile slips, mouth thinning. ]

My track record with being right is pretty long these days.

[ it's a joke, and not a very good one, to detract from his stare and how uneasy and uncertain she feels in the face of it. her mouth opens and closes, almost genuinely concerned now as she lifts a finger to her cheek and scrubs uselessly. ]

If there's something on my face —

[ it would be the ideal time to tell her. that feels like the only viable explanation to her, at least currently. ]

[ in all honesty, he'll feel terrible about this in the morning. once he's made it through and had the chance to parse it out. because he sees that initial ease to her when he first turns, sees the shift in her expression when he changes. that's what will follow him, that's what he'll remember, but in the moment?

in the moment, he sees lily evans standing in front of him. stunning, and smiling, and looking at him like he's just psyched herself up to talk to someone she hasn't ever spoken to before and it's both the best, and most difficult thing he's seen since the haze of visions back in october, curled up in his back room, feeling as though he were dying.

lily, but not, and james' chest seizes and then relaxes in a single moment. his head spins through a whole range of reactions before. it takes another second, maybe two, before he feels as though he can breathe again, and with the air that fills his lungs comes the heavy understanding of what he's just done. ]

No, no, bloody hell- [ his hand lifts, running through his hair in the perfect example of a nervous habit and completely ruining whatever product had been there to hold it in place. his words come out in a rush, like his exhale. ] No there's nothing- oh hell, I'm sorry.

[ because he still feels like his heart is in his throat, he still feels like the floor is spinning out from under him, but she looks almost upset and he can't have that. what he is, down to his core, can't really have that. ]

I'm being a right git- yes. Hello Hi. [ a grin, his best show, the most he could possibly pull that all together and push the rest of it down, as james holds out his hand. ] James. James Potter.

[ her laughter isn't unkind, isn't even the nervous imitation of what it was before, as unsettled as she still feels. it's relief, mostly, mixed with a bit of incredulity at the intensity of his apologies, stumbling out so many in the span of a few moments that she can't do more than to wait for him to gather himself. ]

I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you. [ there's no think about it, truthfully, but it feels necessary — right — to calm his nerves now that her own have been... mostly soothed, even if they haven't been entirely. she smiles, gentler and unabashedly genuine, as if that might be enough reassurance to drive home her point that a string of apologies isn't necessary. ] It's fine. Really.

[ even if she's still left wondering what his reasons for gaping and fumbling are. he's a stranger, no matter his association with a friend she adores, and she doubts that he — james potter, he'd said, and she files that away for later — would much appreciate her prying.

strange as it is, she isn't finding a reason to excuse herself and dismiss this bizarre encounter. her hand slots neatly into his instead, shaking lightly. ]

Clary Fairchild. [ she would add nice to meet you, but she's not entirely certain the circumstances call for it. it isn't not nice to meet him, but it's — well, still odd, and she hardly wants to put him on the spot in case he chooses to insincerely reciprocate that sentiment. ] I'm guessing the matching suits was Eggsy's idea.

[ the laughter is both easier, and a direct blow to his chest, because it's just close enough that it almost fills his heart. almost. but there's still something to it that he can latch onto, to remind himself that no, no this isn't her. it takes a shaky breath, a brief hesitation in his smile, but he can manage. ]

You are truly a saint. [ she does end up meeting his hand for the shake, and james easily turns it over to pull up for a kiss - they are at a ball, after all. pleasantries are as important as the clothes themselves, so he holds true to the grin and kisses the back of her hand and laughs, once and easily, feeling old habits slide easily over unruly thoughts. ]

These perfect things? No, no these were mine. [ he drops her hand to take a step back and lift his arms, showing off the green velvet - perfectly matching eggsy's red - and turn around completely, once. if she looks close enough, she could see the light shimmer of colors, a not-so-subtle charm he'd put on both of their suits before attending, and when he's back to facing her it's with a proud, over-cocky kind of smile. ] Eggsy's just got impeccable taste, as it turns out.

[ well, that kiss to the back of her hand tells her precisely why james and eggsy are suited as friends (or, as it turns out, a friend-date). birds of exasperatedly charming feathers tend to flock together, after all. if it were a less amicable stranger she might feel inclined to tug her hand away in bemusement and incredulity, but — as it stands — it's endearing in its own right, and eggsy hasn't proven himself to be a poor judge of character, so she lets it occur without much more than an amused scrunch of her nose and a small smile.

as if to drive home her original point, the suits. at least someone shares eggsy's loud taste, even if it makes her thing of magnus and his own magic, sprucing up outfits and parties alike for the sake of an extra splash of color and charm. ]

Sounds like a perfect match. No wonder he's your date. [ english, charming, a little cocky. ] You're both trouble.

[ getting sassy with strangers would be more regrettable if those strangers weren't one degree of separation from her, but the expression she wears says it's only light ribbing and nothing more. ]

[ it feels a little off, in a way, but james has to wonder if that's the party, the meeting, or the mirror image in front of him. there are details, little shifts that are wrong but not quite wrong, and it's like he's seeing lily but not quite. it eats away at him, habit and needs and the sudden, uncontrollable urge to just surge forward and kiss her, but he smiles instead. tucks all that away and drops her hand, grinning at the scrunched nose and small smile. ]

You could call us that, yes. [ even the way she says trouble. oof, this was going to take getting used to. his smile will grow into a bit more of a full out grin at the ribbing, all but expressingly telling her that it's completely, totally fine. ]

But we do look grand, you have to admit that. Holiday spirit is no light thing. [ and then his eyes catch a wayward waiter. ] Can I get you a drink, Miss Fairchild?

[ that grin is as much a sign to proceed as it is a relief. some of the tension drains from her shoulders, mouth crooking into a lopsided expression of amusement as she gives him a once-over — complete with feigned indifference, just for show. ]

I think your ego is doing just fine without me admitting that. I know for a fact Eggsy's ego definitely doesn't need it. [ but, for all of the joking involved, there's a certain soft fondness for there. cheekiness aside, eggsy is more sincerely sweet than most she's met, and that can't be argued with. ] But I have a friend who would be all over those outfits if he was awake.

[ but he isn't, and no party is truly complete without magnus bane to it. the mention carries warmth with it, but there's something wistful in it, too, even as she laughs at the form of address. ]

Miss Fairchild would love a drink, yeah.

Talking about my ego already? Things are moving a bit fast, don't ya think? [ because he can't help himself. not any more than he can help the smirk he shoots her way, before looking nearly offended. ] Eggsy's ego, on the other hand, always needs the support. But no worries, love. I'll let him know your thoughts on the get-up.

[ he will take that chance to step a bit of to the side, just far enough to snag two glasses off the tray of a nearby waiter - grabbing the glasses and spinning back to her, offering one back to her. ]

Your friend's got excellent taste, then. If he wakes up, you'll have to introduce us.

[ it would be a lie to claim she hasn't been searching the gathering crowd for sign of one bellamy blake, but it's been a... more than difficult process, admittedly, when she hasn't stopped flitting from place to place for longer than a handful seconds. some of it is by no fault of her own, considering some of the unexpected dances that have been sprung on her; some of it arguably is, but it's impossibly for her to sit still during a celebration, especially with the reminder of a holiday without her mother and those few friends she's come to think of as family.

distractions, in that context, are a necessity.

still, she does manage to spot him later in the night after she takes a moment for herself for fresh air, rightfully a little flushed and buzzing with adrenaline. anything but making a beeline toward him is unthinkable, but she settles for getting his attention with a light touch to his arm, fingers floating away and to her side a moment afterward. ]

I thought you said no suits.

[ look how that turned out. ]

[Bellamy's been keeping an eye out for Clary, too, and he's honestly surprised he hasn't spotted her yet with that hair of hers. In fact, she sneaks up on him completely, and when he turns to face her, he does a double take. That... sure is a hell of a dress. Smooth, Bellamy.]

I did. Eggsy is more convincing than you are.

[ she expected nothing less than a jab like that, innocuous as it is. the double take is a little less than expected, but not a bad reaction all things considered, unsubtle as it is. don't think she isn't filing it away, both out of feeling flattered and a need to point it out, as always. ]

I know. That's kind of obvious.

[ sad, but true. her lips curve, completely capable of amusement even when it's at her own expense. eggsy is convincing, but clary — not so much. that's just how the world turns. ]

It's a good look.

[ because she could be insincere and purposefully irritating right now — possibly make a joke out of eggsy's taste; no one will forget his signature outfits — but genuine honesty is the better route to take, even if he is poking fun at her. ]

[Bellamy smiles back. It's a miracle he hasn't taken the jacket off yet, but he's considering it a favor to Eggsy. And hey, the compliment doesn't hurt.]

So's the dress. You having fun?

[ unfortunately for bellamy, she only looks touched by that reciprocated compliment for a handful of seconds. bellamy clearly knows her looks too well already, considering the one she wears directly after means nothing good for him. ]

I'd say you've already made your appreciation pretty obvious.

[ it isn't smug, or even an attempt at sounding smug. her appearance isn't ever an area she's felt much pride and confidence in, but she is inclined to give him a hard time just by virtue of being clary fray.

on the plus side, if it were most other people, they probably wouldn't have gotten away with that very (un)smooth look. silver linings. ]

Something like that. [ she can't say she isn't having some form of fun, regardless of any thoughts she's purposefully pushing aside for when she's alone and ready to be solemnly pensive. ] Let me guess — you aren't?

[ it's a small joke, but look, bellamy has never struck her as the type to indulge in much at all. ]

[God, Clary. Bellamy clears his throat, but doesn't acknowledge being called out. Maybe if he ignores it, she won't do it again. Not likely.]

It's... fine. Not like anything I'm used to.

[Sure, they had parties on the Ark and on the ground, but most of them were just excuses to get drunk.]

[ very subtle, bellamy. both of her eyebrows raise, but she'll let him off the hook — for now. at least he isn't talking about what she does and doesn't deserve this time like the king of mixed messages, but that doesn't make interacting with him any less confusing. ]

Just "fine"? [ she laughs, a little incredulous but not unkind. ] That's not exactly high praise.

[ or maybe that's just a testament to how odd it is for him. either is likely, really. ]

I'm sure the concept is still the same. It's universal.

[ get drunk, have fun, be merry, embarrass yourselves. that's all there is to any celebration. ]

Back home, there was a lot less dressing up and a lot more drinking.

[He feels stuffy, Clary, okay?]

[ she doubts his discomfort is about insecurity and not just the general unease of something new, something that would admittedly look strange to anyone that's come from a barely inhabitable earth. that doesn't stop her from stepping in to adjust his collar and slip her index finger into the knot of his tie to loosen it by a small amount — presentable, but not stuffy. what a big baby. ]

Drinking here might be a bad idea. [ #paranoid, but most different factions don't get on well, and there's always the chance that he's going to get challenged to something absurd or dangerous by the end of the night from everyone representing their own factions. ] But it's just one night, and then you can take it off. Lucky you.

[ "so suck it up, bellamy" is the less kind translation of that peptalk. ]

Are you telling me to stop whining?

[She absolutely is, which means he's reaching out to free one of her curls from that perfect arrangement she's got them in and move it just out of place. Fair's fair.]

[ maybe just a little. the way she opens her mouths to protest and closes it a moment later, smile in place, speaks for itself. ]

I'm saying — [ that sentence takes a slight detour because of her curiosity, watching his hand lift and pluck out one of those curls. she could swat his hand away in the middle of the mischief, but she's content to let it happen, even if it means she has to blow it out of her face a few moments later. yeah, that's going to be a problem later in the night when that strand inevitably keeps misbehaving. thanks for that, bellamy. ] It won't kill you to live a little for once.

You say that a lot.

[Every time they're together, actually. But alright, alright, fine. He offers her his hand, lips quirking up.]

Want to dance?

Nearly getting killed usually puts things into perspective.

[ back home and here. those moments of sickness aren't as far a memory as she'd like them to be, but it's after a second of consideration that she realizes how dismal that sounds. the point still stands — bellamy's track record in living a little is very, very poor from what clary has seen. ]

I wouldn't have to keep repeating it if you'd actually listen to me.

[ which would be a miracle, but that's more like the relaxed tone she wants to take, and less uncomfortable subject matter. thankfully it's not forced, given the nature of his question and the laugh she huffs out. ]

You know I'm a terrible dancer, right? Just warning you now.

[ that's an exaggeration, but it's still a disclaimer she feels is necessary when she slides her hand into his. ]

As long as you don't break my foot, we're good.

[It's not like he's a good dancer either, Clary. What do you think this is? He'll leading her towards the dance floor anyway, though. And hey, usually his personal rule is "no dancing", but he figures Clary will like this, so here goes.]

No promises.

[ but she won't do it on purpose, which may or may not qualify as a silver lining. figuring out positioning is a little more of an awkward test, but there's only a moment of hesitation before she sets his hand at the dip of her waist and keeps the other situated firmly in her own grasp and squeezes. she'd be questioning if he even knows how to dance, but that seems... a little rude — not that what she settles for is much better in the end. ]

Try not to get too distracted.

[ appreciation for even asking her to begin with doesn't prevent her from being a menace, apparently. ]

[Wow. Okay, maybe he deserves that. That doesn't mean he isn't going to tease her back, of course.]

There's a lot going on. I might have a hard time focusing.

[Rude. But hey, at least he's not a terrible dancer. A little stiff, maybe, but the song is slow enough that they don't have to do too much work.]

[ what a certified asshole. she scoffs, torn somewhere between incredulity and (mostly fake) offense, no matter how convinced she is that he's twisted her meaning around on purpose. well, never let it be said he isn't fast on his feet with the volleying that commentary back at her. ]

Really. [ it's rightfully flat and unimpressed. the way her fingers detach from linking with his own to drift down to his wrist might seem innocent with how light the touch is, but it's only after a moment that she manages to locate the pressure points there and press down — not harshly but hard enough, only intending a brief flash of discomfort as a means of retaliation. ] Remind me why I agreed to this again?

[ rudest dance partner award: bellamy blake. ]

[He winces, though it's more to play along than anything else. She's not really hurting him.]

I'm kidding. Don't you want me to be distracted by you?

[ that's a loaded question if there ever was one. being facetious would be simpler, but she can occupy some time with quiet laughter at that overreaction and soothing her thumb over the area she'd just (barely) assaulted. ]

That was kind of the point, yeah.

[ not the entire point, but at least a factor in the decision-making. it's not like she chose this dress for strangers or potential mouth-breathers, after all. ]

[Huh. He was expecting a sarcastic retort, but hey, he'll take it.]

I didn't realize you cared about my opinion that much.

If that's true, you really are an idiot.

[ there's the retort, at least, but it's lacking in much sass or venom. valuing his opinion is, to clary, fairly obvious. ]

Now you're laying on the charm.

[As she predicted, that lock of hair is already starting to fall into her face, so he tucks it back gently.]

[ look, bellamy, you don't have any right to talk about charm. still, her lips press together, refraining from making a similar comment, if only because the gesture is too appreciated to be undermined by her own sarcasm. ]

I have it on good authority that you think I'm charming. What does that say about you?

[ only this: bellamy blake has terrible taste. ]

Yeah? Whose good authority is that?

[Or maybe it's just that he can never stop giving her shit.]

( CLOSED )

⇨ clarke.

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⇨ james.

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⇨ bellamy.

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