isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been

Precious few are the quiet moments that the vampire queen is able to pilfer from the grand and marvelously chaotic production that had become her existence. Long were the eves spent within the walls of her pub and loud was the chorus of the patrons she served with such diligence; the responsibilities of her business, her coven, and her career waged a handsome tax upon her and yet... they were, all of them, the toils of the love she bore. She would not have readily bartered away any of these proverbial fruits of her tireless labors... but in the moments when the world seemed to pull away the frothing tide of activity and gift her serenity Isolt found herself all the more ravenous for the eves spent away from the bustle. The nights spent in the sanctuary of Damon's arms, his bed, enveloped entirely in the essence of him and the future promised to the pair. They reminded Isolt of a simpler time, if ever there had been one in the aftermath of her fall into death's embrace. They reminded her of friends that, though she may no longer be capable of visiting them as often as she preferred, still held so much of her heart between them: Nadya, Raven, Tobias, and Tetradore.

Isolt is tugged in no delicate fashion from the warm nostaligia of her reverie but the gentle rapping upon her door, the glossy page of the wedding magazine she had been half-heartedly perusing falling from betwixt her fingertips. A furrow works its stitching into the otherwise prestine canvas of her brow, for truly she expected no company this evening, but even so does the light tapping of her footfalls punctuate the quietude of the foyer as she makes her way towards the door and her unexpected guest.

Unexpected, but hardly unwelcomed.

A smile, subtle and sweet, begins to take its place upon her features as her eyes fall upon the individual who has seen fit to gift her his company; however, hardly does it have a chance to lighten her eyes with the touch of its glee before it wilts and dies upon the cherry slopes of her lips. She is speechless for a moment, whatever greeting she intended left abandoned, dissolved upon the tip of her tongue, with the look of absolute apprehension and anxiety that bleeds from his every handsome feature. And his greeting... comes as yet another unexpected jolt. It was no small truth that there was hardly love lost between Damon and Tetradore, indeed it is something that grieved Isolt quite frequently, and so for the Were king to ask after the whereabouts of her fiance was rather bemusing. "Um," she finally utters, auburn locks sent swinging with the shaking of her head, "no, he'll be away for a while. But, wh-... what happened to your face, Tet? What's wrong?" Insistently does she usher him into the comfort of her home, taking his hand gently within hers so that she might guide him easily into the cozy little nook of a kitchen that she and Yumi shared, only relinquishing him his hand to gesture him towards the small wooden table set against the bay window.

"Let me have a look," she muses softly as she perches herself upon the table before him, running her fingertips gently below the angry lesion upon his cheek. "Thankfully it's not too deep. Do you want me to take care of it for you," she offers, entirely willing to utilize the healing qualities of her blood to aide him. Isolt considers her companion for a long moment, more than a few pressing queries dancing about her brain, though for now she finds it most prudent to begin with what was definitely the most odd. "Tet... why are you looking for Damon?"