isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been

She could not battle against the smile that pulled so innocently upon the brims of her cherry lips as the distance between herself and his front door dwindled to naught. She could not... nor would she given the advantage of preference, have bartered off this exceedingly rare opportunity to indulge in an evening that was bereft the harrowing demands of a coven and a bustling business, without the none-too-subtle pull of a thousand different strings to tug her in far more directions than she might ever be capable of physically going. On this night there was the promise that all of these things, all of these cares, would fall away from her mind and from her body. All of their weight would be lifted from her shoulders and she would no longer labor beneath the heft of her own responsibilities.

Tonight all she would know was him.

It is the promise of her fiance's embrace that pulls her forth, light upon her feet as she nearly skips across the lawn with a childish gaiety that was so often surpressed by the weariness of all else that weighed upon her. She yearned for the passionate caress of his fingertips, the dark and alluring bouquet that she could taste in his every kiss, and the way that she knew simply by gazing into his eyes that he loved her. That he held her above all others in the very same manner that she did him. It was an anticipatory yearning that she could do naught to assauge as her delicate fist rapped gently at her lover's door. A smile, affectionate and serene, blossoms upon the cherry pillows of her lips as the door swings ajar...

Only to reveal a man that, though there surely were aspects to his physical self that nodded in none too surreptitious a manner to Damon's own, was not the familiar figure of her betrothed. Taken aback and subdued to silence by the domineering beast of her own consternation, Isolt could do little more than merely rescue whatever remnants of the simper remained, though wilted, upon her facade. "Oh, hello...," she stumbled, her mind set racing down the various avenues of archived memory to pluck desparately at those moments within which Damon had made mention of his brother. Few though they undoubtedly were. "I'm Isolt... Damon's fiance." The would-be simple phrase felt far more akin to an admission than it really should have had reason to. A peculiar thing indeed, though only validated by the look of trepidation set harshly against the otherwise prestinely handsome face of her lover. "Damon," Stefan cooed as he lead the young woman into sitting room. "How could you not tell me you were engaged? And to such a delectable little thing with such a... dazzling ring..." The final words of the stranger who still clasped her hand seemed to coalesce into the pregnant silence that swathed the trio. The syrupy sweetness of the man's simper shriveled upon his lips as the pad of his thumb drew a slow line over the vintage gem that adorned her finger before he turned his eyes to his sibling, a single eyebrow raised as if to demand an explanation.