Clizzy, before the beginning, please and thank you!
post-canon, though there will be quite a bit of canon-divergence in the time jump before the epilogue. For now... Clary and her “mundane” life.
Clary hates mornings.
She used to love them.
Before.
The way the light was a different color than it was during the day, cleaner somehow, and quieter.
The way everything was quieter, so she could be too, just for a little while, could read or sketch or paint or curl up in the window and look up at the tiny sliver of sky she could see above her, the way the leaves shifted in the wind in the weird courtyard behind their building.
Now though she hates that moment when she wakes up, when for a moment she’s forgotten, for a moment she almost remembers...
And then it’s gone, and she’s awake, and her mother and Dot and Simon are all dead, and she’s in a room that still doesn’t feel like hers, still doesn’t feel like home. She can hear Luke shuffling around in the kitchen or the living room, because he’s awake too, he’s already always awake too, no matter when she wakes up, whether it’s 3am or 5am or she’s slept through her morning studio time and it’s almost time for lunch and she has to get ready for work.
She never quite manages to sleep all the way through to afternoon.
She wonders if that would be better, if she never saw mornings again.