[ this might be the least pleasant portalling experience of alec's life. he'd gotten used to the nausea and the oddness of traveling through them, but this is something else. it's like being pulled apart and put back together, and he has no time to recover from the nausea when he finally lands — face down into sand and water, inhaling, coughing water and sand out of his lungs. he's soaked through, as if he'd been swimming to shore, but he can't remember doing as much.

lifting himself up on shaking arms, he squints out into the gloom. he can taste blood, probably from a scrape on his face somewhere, but he can't be bothered to check or heal himself. he's afraid, and not for himself. ]

Magnus? Clary? [ it's dark, and there are noises of others, as lost and confused as he is. he coughs again, a wheeze, spitting to clear the sand and water from his mouth, his lungs burning and his clothes clinging to him uncomfortably.

then he pushes off his feet, reaches inside his jacket to take out his witchlight and starts heading toward shadows and shapes, saying magnus' and clary's names in the hopes he'll hear one of them call back to him.

hoping they didn't crash in the middle of this river or lake or ocean or whatever it is.

in the meantime, feel free to call him over for help, or to ask for him to shine light on something — as harried as he is to find his family, he won't ignore anyone injured or requiring assistance. ]

[ he's not sure why he keeps getting whiffs of his mother's perfume, the one she used to wear when he was a child. or why he can smell izzy's too, at intervals, as if coming through from the trees. he keeps walking, head down, hand on the handle of his seraph blade strapped to this thigh. he doesn't trust what he can smell, isn't sure he can trust what he sees. is it really a forest? is that an illusion, as the smells must be?

there's the crack of a branch and the rustling of leaves, and alec whips around, hand leaving the blade to get his bow instead. someone walks by, and alec turns in time to feel his stomach sink at the sight. for just a moment, it looked like jocelyn. ]

Who's there? [ he tries to follow, stepping carefully onto the forest floor, nocking an arrow and keeping aim. he ignores the thudding of his heart telling him he found his way into hell, somehow, and he's seeing a punishment for his deeds. he's forgotten that the smell of perfume from earlier was associated with good memories. he's forgotten anything but following the shadow passing through the trees. ]

[ wandering around the citadel had been curiosity, at first, until he'd found one of the situation rooms. it's covered in vines and and leaves, but whenever alec pushes some aside, he finds a fully functional screen. it looks like the screens of the institute back home. not quite the same, but serving a similar purpose.

it might be good to take a closer look. to see if this can help them protect the city. he hears someone approach, and without sparing them a glance, busy gently removing a vine stuck right across a screen, speaks: ]

Think we could clean this place up? [ he peers at the screen now that it's clearer, almost talking to himself. ] Looks like we could keep a better eye on any intruders using these.

[ choose your own adventure! prompt with anything else you'd like or hit me up to plot something. ]