Fandom High Dormitories

Technically, Isabelle wasn't having a birthday party. But, it was her birthday, and she was hanging out in her common room, and for whatever reason, the TV was playing various hit music videos from the eighties and nineties. (Not that Isabelle and her lack of pop culture knowledge could tell what time any of it was from, or by whom, but she liked it.) And there was also a ridiculous cake. Yeah, it was store-bought. So it was safe for eating.

Also, for some weird reason, part of the common room looked like it was decked for... maybe a luau? There was a garland, and a couple of paper lanterns, and a small pile of flower leis on one of the tables. Those had all been here when Isabelle had come in with her cake. So, don't ask her where they'd come from. (They'd be gone in about an hour, anyway.) She was just going to get herself a drink and wonder what a 'scrub' was supposed to be.

Whatever, this song was good.

[ooc: Open! Mod yer own pop songs if you want! Whoot, fake birthday.]

Isabelle wasn't a big swimmer. It wasn't that she didn't know how or anything (because she did), but just that there it wasn't a very important skill for most Shadowhunters to have, and there wasn't a pool at the Institute. Also, covering up her Marks and scars with glamours to go to a public swimming pool was far too much of a hassle.

And one she hadn't bothered with here. It was Friday evening, and she figured most people had better things to do than go for a swim. She could've thought of a few, but somehow swimming had still won out. Maybe she was saving her ideas for the weekend. Or something else like that. (Or maybe she just liked the calm stillness of it all. Maybe she wanted that right now.) Fact of the matter was that she was here, in a deep red swimsuit that left most of the dark runes and the light scars on her skin exposed. Not that anyone was going to get to look at them for very long.

She dove in and got started on swimming laps, her hair alternating between floating in the water behind her and clinging to her shoulders.

[ooc: Ooopen post.]

This grey and rainy afternoon seemed like the perfect time for Isabelle to seize control of her common room's kitchen area and cook something. Everyone liked a bowlful of hot soup to warm them up for the fall weather, right? So that was what she was making as she bustled around the kitchen, her long dress flaring out around her legs and then settling down again whenever she turned to get this or that from the cupboards. She was following a recipe (for a given Izzy value of "following") she'd gotten from someone back in New York, and the soup smelled just fine. So, it was kind of like one of those exotic animals in a rain forest that look beautiful but are just waiting to poison you and eat your face.

Isabelle's soup wasn't going to eat anyone's face. At most, it was going to give people an upset stomach. Not to mention a need to be extra polite and claim it tasted just fine, really, and that the tuna and the... whatever that really strong spice was were a really good match. Honest.

She looked pretty content and even happy, though, stirring the pot as she waited for the soup o be finished. So, there was that.

[ooc: Open! Come taste Izzy's awful cooking.]