isolt griffin
The youthful vampire's affirmation that he need not bestow upon her further gifts was but a statement of absolute truth. It was not the fallacy of a benevolent ruse, an abhorrent façade stretched taut and fraying against the malignant writhing greed beneath as it very well could have been. Isolt was a beautifully archaic soul in the belief that material things were lesser to the monolith of sentimentality; that the unseen could prove far more valuable than glistening baubles within her hands. And yet she appreciates the shell clasped protectively within her dainty hands with every bit of vigor she was capable of offering for it was the personification of some form of... forgiveness, some mutually proffered olive branch lain between two individuals placed opposite one another in life's caged and spot-lit ring. It was a glorious metaphor to denote the cultivation of their reconciliation, a talisman to remind them of the past and coax them onwards into the proverbially waiting dawn.

The azure of her eyes only departs from the ornate husk cupped within her palm as his questions meet her waiting ears. The alluring crimson lick of the blush only intensifies upon the rounded apples of her cheeks with the brazen manner in which he confesses his fondness towards her. A surprised and nervous chortle bubbles from her lips, Isolt affording a moment of internal contemplation if only to remind herself of the staggering level of his inebriation... an axiom that proves sobering to the giddiness that had begun to stir lightly within the twist of her belly. For a sparse gathering of moments the fire-locked girl means to allow his admission and the inquiries with it to roll from her shoulders as effortlessly as a springtime zephyr. That is, until the blazing emerald of his eyes does not stray from her, nor does he venture to lead her down the avenue of different conversation.

He merely waits until such a time as she is able to coax the syllables back unto the curl of her tongue. "Um, well...," she murmurs, a gentle shrug rippling through her lithe frame as her eyes trace a deliberate line to the floor below them as if there might exist, within the smooth and orderly grain of the wood there, another far more plausible desire than the one that drifts to the forefront of her brain almost instantaneously. She quested for few things with such desperate intensity as she sought the thing she was to impart upon him. "... I don't suppose you could give me one last sunrise, can you?" A strained laugh falls flatly between them, the delicacy of her brow just beginning to curl with the evidence of a frown before it is chased from her features with the prompt fortification of her façade. "No of course not. And you thought you were the one being silly," she offers with a kindly laugh, a simple waving of her hand enough to banish the foolish notion back into the shaded and private region of her brain from which it had been birthed.

"But it is worth it, right? To have something that's yours?" Isolt eyes her companion pensively, the conviction of this singular belief evident in every sparkling ray of blue within her eyes. But she falls silent thereafter; troubled perhaps by something that cannot rightly be gleaned. It is to his merit that the dashing gentleman hesitates so briefly in acquiescing to her later request, the promise of peering beyond the shroud of enigma that was the Ark's cloak was a deeply titillating thing. A tender and succulent morsel with which she might go some measure in sating the ravenous beast that was her own curiosity. She is helpless against the beaming smile that overcomes the pallor of her features as it meets with the oceanic pools of her eyes, ruby lips twisting around a single yet nonetheless enthusiastic affirmation. "Okay."