isolt griffin

It is with gossamer strings pulled by the dueling hands of awe and trepidation that Isolt moves to follow Damon, her delicate and slender fingers forming a gentle, easy curl into the cradle of his sturdy hand. Slowly does the glacial chill of Dennis' untoward greeting dissipate, its frigid glaze sloughing from her bones with the warmth of the atmosphere that holds her now. It is as if she meanders through a dream of someone else's life, someone else's past frozen, cemented in time. And it is a life, a past, so utterly and completely set at odds with the one that she had lived. Reminded is she of the parallels of her life and the one of her lover, differences placed under the beaming spotlight with every turn of a corner that uncovered still more of the grandeur within which Damon had resided even in his human life.

It is, all of it, a desparately far cry from the mortal life (and, indeed, the immortal one) that Isolt had known. Here she is courted by a festival of magnificent sights, a cornucopia of wealth and elegance that was wholly beyond the scope of her own experiences, her family having never been one to claim any impressive amount of wealth. She had been born into a modestly successful household, and so does the evidence of it show in the gleaming wonder that flickers so forthrightly across the span of her gaze. The auburn-haired damsel follows in a state of awed quietude, basking in the allure of all of these things that seemed but antiqued relics of a time the sands of which had long since drained from the hourglasses of many a memory.

Looking up the decadent ribbon of the staircase does Isolt finally make a motion to acknowlege that Damon still lingers beside her with a steady yet nonethless eager nod. Every part of her seems to thirst for more of this life that is not hers, this past encapsulated in the present as some hidden gem for only the most fortunate to partake in. She drinks of it greedily. willingly allowing herself to be ushered into the nearby sleeping quarters that Damon had only just spoken of. And again does the sensation of glee wash over her anew, for this room is every bit as effortlessly titillating as the rest of the dwelling had thus far proven to be. A barely audible sigh purrs from her sweetheart lips as the young woman departs from her companion's grasp in order to explore this fresh glance into the life he had lived more than a century ago... only to pause at a photograph perched just so upon the dated yet no less exquisite bureau. A photo of a young man in military garb, his features outwardly sharp and yet... she would know those eyes anywhere, even without their tell-tale hue. A slow smile seeps unto her features, resplendent in the dusty light of the lamps that adorn the room, as she turns to Damon once more. "So you've always been drop-dead gorgeous, I see," she muses, a girlish chuckle echoing from her throat as she moves about the room.