isolt griffin

It had been a soundless sleep the likes of which she had not known in quite an unfortunately long while, complete and bereft the tenebrific mirk of unfortunate memories that had tainted every period of false-rest since the night of her transformation. Gone were these recollections, nightmares of an immortal subconscious, chased away by the benevolent peace she felt in the presence of the man who rested just as peacefully at her side. Every part of him, his presence, was a medicinal balm to the ails of her soul; the weight of him beside her, the tender caress of his fingers that somehow found her consciousness even through the smog of this death-like slumber to anchor her to the moments they had shared. Despite this, his unspoken fear had, indeed, been hers; the thought that he might somehow find the notion lingering within her bed to be a senseless fallacy wrought only of their shared inebriation. And so it had been with the grandest relief that Isolt had opened her eyes only to be met with his words and an impeccably-gentle kiss.

"Good morning," she had whispered in the hushed syllables of the recently-roused, utterly helpless against the simper that curved at the flushed pillows of her lips. She basked in the reverie of this closeness, this unfettered ease the likes of which she had never found in the arms of any other individual, for as long as time saw fit to permit such a pristine luxury. Alas, though, do the good things always come to an end, Isolt lamenting his departure in an inward and personal manner as he professed his obligations for the evening. She had not questioned after his intent, rather having simply nodded and indulged herself in a single last kiss before falling once more into the embrace of her duvet. The youthful vampire had lingered there for a time, the prior evening's festivities playing over upon the screen of her mind's eye in a most glorious presentation, her mind mulling over the implications of all that had been said...


In a faultless nod to how well Damon had actually come to know her, Isolt had found herself thrown voluntarily into the lively work-pace of Red on the Water even hours later, busying herself with whatever she could in an effort to dam the swell of self-doubt and second-guessing that had come as a cruel companion tide to the exquisite euphoria that continued to burble within. Euphoria that betrays itself in the rosy blush that rises to the apples of her sculpted cheeks as her eyes traverse the short line from the couple before her to Damon, relaxed and so charmingly unassuming as he saunters about this place that they had built together. A place that they had dreamt together. Once again is she victim to the innocent and bashful grin that tugs at her lips with his proximity, leaning in even as the all-too-familiar keys skate against the polished wood of the bar top to be captured by her slender fingers. Diverted are her attentions from the admonishing tsk-ing of her counterpart to the keys and the implications that seem imbedded in the metal that had, over the years, succombed to the wear of a thousand loving caresses. Had he done it?

Swept away by the considerations of what she is about to see and thoroughly taken by intrigue at the mention of Damon's enigmatic plans, a sparkle casts its radiance unto the eyes of the demure young vampire. She is alight in more ways than just one, etherreal in the instrinsic glow of her smile, her eyes, and ever smooth facet of her youthful face. And as her hand slides obediently into his own, she finds herself unperturbed by the notion of what is to come, by the impenetrable and unknowable haze of what lay ahead. But as the pair makes their departure, Isolt's delicate hand falls from the embrace of her companion's, both hands rising to cover her mouth in a surprise that is both speechless and all-consuming. "Oh my god..." There, awash in its own unapologetic perfection, is the car that her brother had always wished to have. The car that had been the shared fantasy of two siblings who had spent countless hours laboring over its authentication. It had been the thing her brother had wanted the most in the entire world. It was, and would be in Isolt's mind forevermore, the car of Aaron's dreams. A dream long ago swept away so that it might gather dust in the metephorically ostracized palace of the long forgotten... until now. It was a dream realized by the man at her side, and thusly does Isolt turn to him in the spirit of greatest gratitude to wrap her arms around his waist and plant the tenderest of kisses upon his lips. "It's so perfect. Aaron would have loved it," she whispers as she extracts herself from him, perusing the car in manner that could have only been described as child-like glee before sinking easily into the buttery, cozy embrace of the leather seating. Running her gentle hands excitedly over the apholstery, Isolt turns eagerly to her guide. "Where are we going?"