isolt griffin
The grass was supple beneath her bare feet, as lovely and pliant as she had always remembered; comfortably cool even despite the radiant and pleasant warmth of the midday sun. It laid its temperate kiss to the blushing apples of her upturned cheeks as she traipsed down the cobbled lane just as she had done so many countless times during her childhood. Her grandparents' modestly aged house lay not too far beyond, so familiar was the terrain that Isolt was quite confident she could have found it even in the depths of night. There was a celestial sense of absolute calm that permeated here, the stink of fear cleansed from every pore, and here... now, she no longer felt even the smallest twinge of pain. Where before there had been the greatest agony there existed only this soothing nothingness. The woman with her treacherous fangs poised at her neck, ready and the man with the haunting emerald eyes did not exist here. They and the terror they had wrought had all been left behind, abandoned and consumed by the ether of what was soon to be forgotten. And forgotten they were, for the barest and most blessed few moments.

"It's about time, Sol." That voice. His voice. She would have recognized it anywhere, even now after years had transpired without that familiar rumbling lilt. A breathless gasp slips through lips pitched skyward into the most beautifully gleeful smile, a moment of abject paralysis clenching at every cord of muscle before she finds it within herself to turn and face him. "Aaron," she whispers, for she finds herself capable of doing little else, before she flings herself into her brother's arms. In death his strength had been returned to him; no longer was he the gruesome shell he had been towards the end, hollowed out by drugs and a life he had never been suited for. He was as she had always tried to remember him, the strong and charismatic man who had been not only a sibling, but one of her closest friends. "I've missed you so much," she murmurs into his shoulder, breathing him in, awash in the familiarity and taken away from the pain, the terror, of before.

It does not last, though; she is only afforded this small happiness, this one sparse morsel of peace before it is wretched from her in the most gruesome tease. Darkness bleeds into every corner of this far off world, the sky above churning with the most brutal-looking ebony fog as the world at her fingertips quickly coalesces into darkness... consuming every last ray of light and converging upon her brother in the space of but a few heartbeats. "No... please." The words are a desperate plea, her windpipe clenching painfully, pleading for air that does not come. All that does come, all that she is offered as everything she loves fades into the deepest dark, is the sound of her brother's voice from a far-off place. Not yet, Sol. Not yet.

She awakens to the murmur of voices and the off-putting scrap of metal against metal, her movements unbearably slow as if suspended in some dream-like state, her entire form leaden and heavy, her mouth parched and dry. Isolt lingers but a moment longer in this suspension between reality and the glowing ether before her mind jolts her body to action. Her tongue seeks the moisture it is bereft, skating over the plump cushions of her lips... and catching against the fearsome points of two very real fangs. This alone shatters whatever waking illusion she had been subconsciously spinning. The memory of the previous eve is a fresh, gaping wound upon the tender flesh of her consciousness that heralds a wave of panic to drag its icy trickle down her spine. The man with the green eyes and the salaciously charming smile, the woman with the conniving sneer, her fangs and sordid breath skating against tender flesh, and the blood... so much blood. Her blood.

Shock comes first, a million icy shards wedged into every inch of exposed flesh, the entirety of Isolt's lithe frame set to shaking in such a manner that she is surprised it makes no audible sound. A series of jagged, airless breaths are wrenched from still, heavy lungs. Shaking digits rise to lay a tentative caress to each fang in turn, a pitiful sob echoing in the dank, dark space. And, for a time, she is absolutely paralyzed by the fear that tightens as a string of razor-wire around her heart. Finally, dazzling blue eyes flicker from one dark corner of the cellar to another, catching upon the steel gleam of the handcuffs that bind her to thick metal piping. Every sense seems to operate on continual overdrive: so adept are they that she can discern individual voices from the raucous mess above, though her only realization is that she must escape this place. She must escape before they come for her again. Isolt struggles painfully to free her hand from the metallic clasp of the cuff that binds, twisting and writhing until finally managing to extract herself from its hold and traipse soundlessly to the door.

In fortuitous silence she eases the door ajar, peering about for any others and finding herself, thankfully, all alone. The young woman stumbles clumsily to the stairs that separate her from the world beyond, flinging open the heavy exit door and hurtling herself out into the cool night air. She steps onto the sidewalk, her stride hasty and sporadic, drawing the attention of more than but a single passerby. Their wandering, curious stares are for naught however, lost entirely to the vortex of Isolt's rapidly spinning thoughts. Denial, it would seem, follows suit. After all, this did not actually happen to people. Not in the at least modestly civilized world of which she was a part. What had she done? What heinous crime had resulted in this? Even as the plush cushions of her lips are drawn inward, meshing harshly against the elongated slopes of her fangs, Isolt cannot bring herself to even think the word that begs so desperately to be spoken... to be acknowledged. This was, after all, only a nightmare.

Wake up, Isolt, wake up.

Trembling, the young redhead fumbles into the nearest alley, delicate fingers coming up to knot into her wealth of copper hair, clenching harshly into fists as she forfeits herself to the series of full-body tremors that quickly overcome her. It is a feat of the greatest proportions that Isolt manages to maintain her footing for her legs continue to visibly seize as she leans heavily against the porous brick at her back. She might have sworn, had she been given to any manner of rational thought, that she could hear her body trembling. But she is afforded no time in which to linger upon this peculiar anecdotal musing, a subtle metallic click and a nauseatingly wretched stench seeming to somehow navigate the miasma of her thoughts. Two men appear as if from smoke before her, one bearing a devilish sneer that chills her through to her very core, the other brandishing what appears to be a small crossbow from within the leather folds of his trench coat. Blue eyes flitter from the apparatus to each man in turn in the moments before a hulking black feline falls to a crouch betwixt the trio, causing the young woman to forfeit a great deal of her footing and a single surprised scream.

Chaos ensues in rapid succession, the smaller of the two men trudging towards Isolt as his partner busies himself with the crouching feline, lifting the crossbow to his chest. "Come on baby, we'll make this quick," he coos in salaciously soft tones, inching ever nearer to her. Somewhere in the incessantly crashing wave of panic and denial instinct bleeds through, both hands rising in quick succession. One wraps easily around the smooth metal of the crossbow, wrenching it quite successfully from her assailant's hands as her clenched first collides solidly with the sneering fellow's jaw line. Surprise registers on both of their façades, though the fine threads of anger quickly weave their way into his features, effectively draining whatever instinctual determination she might have been privy too. Isolt stumbles backwards in a desperate to attempt to flee from him, though the man follows readily, extracting a silver blade from the folds of his outfit before continuing his advance upon her...

Wake up...