isolt griffin
I'm more alive than I've ever been
She should have known in the moments that she turned from him that her rejection was a farce, that it was merely a ploy to gather her thoughts, her words. She could no sooner have turned her back on him, truly turned away from him, than she could have willed her stilled heart to resume its livened tempo. Isolt was doomed to love this man without regard for the damage he may have caused her and would, she feared, go on causing forevermore. It seemed that he knew all of the perfect, most cogent ways in which to destroy her... but so, too, did she have some passing knowledge of how she might do the same to him. Perhaps this is yet another reason why she turns from him, intent on casting herself back into the relative sanctuary of her home, so that he may know even a modicum of the agony wrought by his hands.
But at his words, his touch, the fire-crowned woman knows that it is all for naught, and as she turns to see him pleading in a manner she had never known was possible she feels herself melt as puddy in his hands once again. Slowly does she descend to her knees, taking her place before him and gently guiding him to face her with a soft caress. "I know," she offers in as much a hushed whisper as his explanation had been. "But I need you here. I need you with me. So that means no more talk of the New Eden, no more disappearing for months on end... and no more talk of me changing my mind about us. Understood?" The look with which she fixes her lover is resolute, practiced to perfection in her determination to rise confidently to the post of Elysium's Supreme. "Besides, I can't change my mind because my ring is beautiful and I want to keep it," she chuckles, the austere facade melting into something far more comely before she inclines her head to kiss him, finding that she can wait no longer to do so.
It is a long, slow kiss that she offers him, arms wrapping gently about his neck as Isolt's body presses into that of her fiance. How she had missed the simple act of kissing him, the rush of burning chill as it blazed through the fibers of her nervous system and the butterflies that fluttered about within her stomach. When finally she does take leave of the embrace, she allows merely enough distance between them that she might survey their respective outfits. "You also have me feeling terribly under-dressed this evening..."