The young woman smiles in offhanded and peculiar splendor at her friend's near-seething remark regarding their idiosyncratic time piece, a token and testament to one afternoon spent rummaging about amongst the dust-coated shelves of the local thrift shop. It was an "ugly pet" of sorts, cherished by both women in only the most annoyingly endearing way. Despite Harley's quite frequent assertions otherwise, Isolt knew that the quirky little cat would continue to hang there forevermore, for as long as they resided with one another... and she suspected that they were both well aware of this axiomatic truth. The brunette's next comment; however, far darker in nature than its predecessor, peels the simper from her plush lips, leaving in its wake only an admonishing stare that, while mingling with a subtle helping of vaguely venomous jest, is potent in its very essence. The potency of her stare does not bleed into the silken fabric of the words she offers, though, her syllables somewhat lighter. "You stop that. You are not going to meet an early grave because you're not allowed to die before I do... and I don't plan on dying for a long time coming."



A moment of silent consideration stretches into the void that separates them for a moment, each woman seeming adrift in the ever-choppy sea of their own respective thoughts. For a long second there is only the timely, lazy yet nonetheless excited, scratching of Seth's claws as they drag against the weathered slats of their wooden floor to act as the backdrop to the ticking of Felix upon the wall. It is in this void of verbal banter that the idea of a festival squirms itself to the forefront of Isolt's mind. She knows, is all too aware in fact, that any mention of such an occasion would serve to lessen the effect of whatever spell Harley's melancholy might have woven upon her. The redhead has known her raven-haired counterpart since childhood, they have grown up in the presence of one another, such a lengthy amount of time having afforded each of them respective intimate knowledge regarding the other one. As such, Isolt was fully aware that festivals of any sort, particularly those set against a backdrop of rumbling rock music, were proverbial honey to the bear that was her dearest friend. An impish grin eases itself into position upon her face, knowing full well that her baited hook has found purchase somewhere within the darkened depths of the other woman's thoughts.



As Isolt spins to present her derriere to Harley, genuine sensitivity gleaming within flawless blue eyes, she chides herself inwardly for entertaining the notion, even for the barest moment, that she might have received anything apart from outright sarcasm on her friend's behalf. She had expected the stinging barbs of Harley's razor tongue to be laid into her to some extent; however, what she hadn't expected was to have a pillow flung at the back of her innocently turned head. A gasp, both of surprise and unadulterated abhorrence, ripped itself from those parted lips as Isolt turned, grabbing the projectile in question before hurtling it back in the direction of the posterior that was now being wiggled in her face. "Why don't you get up and get that ass into something more suitable for going out in public. You'll scare people if you go out like that," she purrs, her own heinously innocent sarcasm lacing into the fabric of her every syllable. It is fleeting, for truly she is hardly capable of maintaining this ruthless farce for any extended period of time. It is in her very nature to be kind, polite nearly to a fault, even in the face of those who would not extend her the same kindness.



The duo, both clad in far more appropriate attire than moments before, are deposited upon the dregs of the festival grounds by their less-than-enthused cabby nearly half an hour later, the cacophonous uproar of one of the many local bands slated to perform that evening permeating throughout the open space. The exhilarating thrumming of the guitars, coupled with the many dust-dulled lights strewn about the place culminated in the toothy grin that stretched shamelessly upon her angelic features. Slender hands come up to clasp beneath her chin, the young woman very nearly bouncing upon the balls of her feet as she turns to her counterpart. "What should we do first?!"