isolt griffin

To say that she was surprised by the admission of their intended destination would have been disingenuous to the true measure of her astonishment at the notion of being shown this glimpse of a life no longer lived. True, Isolt had proffered him the same glimpse the night before, fueled by the blood of the fae that had served to eradicate nearly all traces of the uncertainty that had, heretofore, presented the idea as naught more than an impossibility. But for Damon, time and circumstance had only increased the complications with bringing someone new into this past; a century and more separated Isolt from the life she would now see... a century of darkness the likes of which she could only dare to imagine.

It is for this reason that trepidation is the accent to her words, questions skimmed from what was surely only the very tip of a mountain of the same. Curiosity was her vice and helpless was she to tame it, her tongue quickly stilled by the realization that she could very well ruin this opportunity with the hapless blabbering of an endless stream of inquiries. To his merit, however, her companion is gracious, generous in the information that he dotes upon her. She wonders, as she has done a thousand times before this, of her own home. The house that she had grown up in and the couple that surely lived there still... or so she surmised, though Isolt had never made the journey to her childhood abode. To see her parents, to lay eyes upon them as they lived every day beneath the choking shroud of the assumption that both of their children were dead, was an agony that had and still did prove unbearable. To know the truth of it, the truth of her current form, the axiom of her transformation and all of its implications, would have served only to destroy them in the cruelest way. It was a mercy, perhaps, to think her dead in the manner they assumed her to be. It was a farce Isolt could not bring herself to shatter.

A simper blossoms upon her features at Damon's tease, cerulean eyes flickering towards him, betraying an impishness that was beyond her custom before she casts a few glances astern. Ascertaining the lack of law enforcement, Isolt nudges smoothly at the accelerator, the respective roar of the car's engine an exhilarating thing as they careen onward towards whatever mysterious sites they were to see. It is a welcomed high, something Aaron would have devoured with his typical vivacity, and one that Isolt indulges in as much for his sake as she does for herself. It was impossible to say with any amount of certainty how long or far they fly, the young vampire hardly letting up on the pedal until, all at once it seems, they come upon a rather elegant sign denoting that they have reached Durham. Effortlessly do they slow, Isolt looking to Damon in tremulous curiosity, waiting...