isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been

It was truly one of the greatest marvels to bear witness to how very much the man before her had changed in the time in which she had known him. When first she had made his acquintance he had been the very epitome of a Lothario, a practiced artisan in the craft of all manner of manipulations, a poised and efficient predator ready to lure his hapless prey to the dinner table... or into his bed, should the fancy move him. Isolt had learned rather quickly of Damon's presumably insatiable thirst for the warmth of the female form, the evidence of it apparent in his carriage of himself and the plagues of women all too willing to proffer themselves up as a the next notch in his proverbial bedpost.

It had been this, all of these things, married with her own inherently demure nature that had halted Isolt's acceptance of Damon's advances at first. After all, how could a man so desirable in all of the most forbidden ways possibly find interest in the companionship of a woman as reserved and presumably-naive as she? Surely there was far more titillating company to be had for him. And yet... he had persisted and, eventually, the not-informidable resolve with which Isolt had shielded herself for the majority of this afterlife and the one that had come before had crumbled and fizzled to ash about her.

And here they were, standing together on a balcony suspended above one of the most beautiful places that Isolt had ever had the unimaginable fortune to lay eyes upon, two perpetually-stilled hearts who had, in immortality, discovered the greatest love that any number of lifetimes could have been capable of bestowing upon them. Had she not had him standing before her, the gentle embrace of his mother's ring wrapped about her finger, Isolt might have admitted trouble in believing how fortunate she had been in this life by dying. But... the surety of their shared love, their unending devotion to and for one another, was not the only notion that might herald some measure of disbelief on this night. Damon's bride had a secret she was guarding...

"It was beautiful. You could feel the love in the room," she mused softly, though it was becoming quite clear that the fire-crowned woman's thoughts were wholly and truly elsewhere. It is only by virtue of her fiance's query that Isolt curls her fingers about the threads of reality once more, azure eyes glimmering angelically as they lift to meet the darkly-alluring greys of her lover's. The time had come to unveil the thing that she had kept from him these past weeks, but in the moment that she needs them most her words abandon her, her tongue dry and bereft the answer she requires. And so, instead, does the young woman reach for her lover's hands, clasping them gently before leading them towards her. Slowly do their hands push aside the ample fabric of the gown that she had chosen quite strategically, pulling it taut against her torso as Isolt rests Damon's cupped hands upon the subtle rise of her stomach.

It is an almost torturously long moment before she raises her eyes to meet his once again, helpless against the smile that spreads with wanton fervor upon her lips.