isolt griffin
Long ago had she forfeited praying that every swishing of the front door swung ajar might herald Harley's return, that somehow her childhood friend might find her way home from wherever it was that fate had deemed appropriate to lead her. It was a fool's errand, a pipe dream crafted by the faux-artisan hands of a hope that existed far beyond reason. Yet still, with the soft clicking of the door into its cradle, a spark of... something, sizzles to life within the darkness before it, too, falls prey to the void that exists within her. Hard to bear is the paradoxical burden of this emptiness, this absence.

To Nadya's merit her arrival succeeds in chasing away the recollections of a lifelong friendship lost to death and the impenetrable unknown that was its companion. "Hey," she offers shyly, the smile that blossoms upon her lips a purely elegant thing, "thank you." As the Were draws nearer, the wafting fragrance of her blood billows about Isolt to nearly rob her senses of the meal's tantalizing aromas. The youthful vampire had grown quite accustomed to the fragrance of her impromptu roommate's lifeblood, the race to which she now belonged characterized in part by their proclivity for such things; however, something else, wholly separate, had begun to spice the offhandedly familiar perfume as of late. Though it is a consideration pushed swiftly into the dark and dusted recesses of Isolt's brain as Nadya reaches for a tasting of the gravy that simmers pleasantly upon the stove top only to place a slender digit between her lips... leading Isolt to effortlessly tap into the valuable resource that is this mortal sense. This assimilation of another's senses was a talent the redhead had discovered quite suddenly whilst attempting to ensure her own survival in the labyrinthine confines of Syn, and it is one that serves her well at present. So complete is the sensorial representation that, had she known no better, Isolt might have sworn to having tasted the gravy herself... deeming the flavor impeccably similar to that her grandmother used to conjure.

"My grandmother," she offers pointedly to her counterpart's inquiry. "My brother and I used to go to Ireland to visit her and my grandfather every summer and she and I would spend hours in the kitchen. It was better than any culinary school," she muses with a knowing grin cast towards the female Were. Her next comment, though, eclipses in its entirety the fond recollections of her grandmother's homely little kitchen in favor of the revelation that is cast so nonchalantly into the verbal void that follows. Therein lay the axiom to the puzzle that had been the newfound sweetness within Nadya's blood: pregnancy. "Well I... I mean the guys mi-," but the words do not leave her, pilfered from her lips by the initially soft and then unwaveringly insistent knocking upon her front door.

It is with a demure simper that Isolt allows the door to swing ajar, though whatever niceties she may have offered the two gentlemen are replaced with the silent "oh" that shapes her sweetheart lips. The crystalline blue of her eyes flickers from one man to the next, creeping subtly to the woolen caps that accent the crowns of each, to the sack skating along the floor behind Tobias and, finally, to the tree that fills the majority of the space allotted to the hallway beyond her door. Isolt offers each of them a comely smile, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she finally speaks. "Come on in." Still awe-stricken, the oceanic pools of her eyes peruse once more the admittedly picturesque tree that was presently being introduced into her home. "I can't believe you brought a tree... that's awesome," she coos excitedly, "I guess we can put in the living room?" Following the duo into the aforementioned quarters, Isolt smiled appreciatively for the gesture. A tree had been something the absence of which she had mourned silently, the emptiness of the living quarters amplified only further for this oversight in her devastatingly minute holiday preparations. "Thank you," Isolt whispers softly, a slender hand reaching up to tuck a few stray crimson locks back behind her ear. "I suppose we can decorate it after dinner if you'd like? The food is almost ready."