isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been

It is the very finest of lines that Isolt toes this night, plucking wantonly at the threads of the confidence that, though somewhat awkward and cumbersome in its newness, she does possess; though likewise does she seek to bolster herself against the weighty links of reticence's shackles. She was traipsing into the bloodied sands of an entirely new arena, a territory inherent and necessary given her status as Supreme of Sacrosanct's newest up-and-coming coven... and it was proving every bit as harrowing as she had come to suspect it would be. A morsel of truth that the youthful vampire was pleased to discover did not translate to her features all that readily, though the inquiry she places to Ceara is a small nod to the expected uncertainty of such a monolithic challenge as the one she currently faced. A fleeting moment of vulnerability in the presence of an individual that could, she dared to hope, be trusted.

The minuest nod is all that is proffered up in response to her elder for a time as Isolt considers what has been said, all of them words she herself had repeated internally as some manner of eccentric mantra. Undeniable was the axiomatic certainty that her youth would work to defy what she wished so boldly to accomplish, a challenge the details of which she was yet attempting to decipher and overcome. The crux of the matter though, and despite appearances and what general assumptions might have already been concocted, Isolt was of a far greater caliber of individual than most might have believed. "I know," she responds simply, her tone not unkind. "But just because I am young does not mean I'm without wisdom. And I don't intend to corral and control anyone, I just think vampires could benefit from a closer sense of community."

It is at this point that Damon's unmistakable presence is noted behind her even before the whispered innuendo tickles her waiting ears. A rosy flush kisses the apples of Isolt's cheeks as she inclines her head towards that of her lover, a gentle and faux-admonishing quip aimed at him. "Please at least try and behave yourself... if only just for tonight." A knowing glance is offered to Ceara, the tasteful aversion to Damon's sensuous insinuation in the brunette's voice irrefutable, before her attentions are coaxed elsewhere by the sound of her name upon the lips of a woman who was quickly becoming quite familiar to the redheaded damsel. "Crishlyn, you look stunning," she lilts, accepting readily the soft caress of her companion's lips upon the pallor of her cheeks and returning the gesture in kind. Then do her eyes fall to the individual indicated... a small young girl? It was perfectly plausible for there to exist child-like vampires and yet the presence of the little girl intrigues Isolt all the more. "Yes, me. I'm Isolt, it's a pleasure to meet you Anna. Your dress is beautiful, did you pick it out yourself?" It is a peculiar thing she grapples with, Isolt caught somewhere between the inherent desire to address the young girl in a manner suiting her youth and yet, experience and instinct have both instilled within her enough knowledge to realize that this pristine little dame is significantly older than she.

The subsequent invitee to grace the growing clutch of nightwalkers with his presence serves to stun Isolt in no insignificant measure, surprise placing its furrows into her otherwise immaculate brow as Sebastian joins their group. It was true, of course, that her interactions with the lascivious gentleman had been marked by their brevity; however, they had been and were still quite influential given his tactfully aggressive (for want of a better phrase) pursuit of her upon their very first meeting. He was peculiar and intriguing in the way that so very few men were anymore, homage perhaps to his advanced age. Regardless, a broad and glistening simper permeates Isolt's features with his arrival. "Sebastian, what a surprise! You clean up very nicely." An admittedly innocent and subtle wink does she give him, the aura about the two nearly playful. This congeniality is short-lived, however, the simper wilting upon the cushions of her lips as swiftly as it had blossomed as the azure of Isolt's eyes shift to an individual only just glimpsed beyond Sebastian's shoulder. The elder man perched against the bar was of note to the auburn-haired woman not for his reliance upon the cane hanging idly from the bar beside him, but for the almost derisive glare he seemed to cast against one or more of the vampires present within their group. Modesty and manners dictate that Isolt's gaze not linger for any lenghty period of time upon the less than amiable man, her eyes instead flittering once more to her more immediate company though her mind lingered in some measure upon this peculiar man and his begrudgingly intense expression.