isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been

The look of utter sheepishness is an almost entirely foreign thing to settle upon features that otherwise volleyed between deviousness and pure austerity. It is a rare occasion that the raven-haired woman plays the role of the sheepish betwixt the two of them, Isolt so oft falling easily into it. "I know," Isolt agrees, "but my first command as her mother is for her to stay in there until she's supposed to. That... and to stop kicking me in the ass from the inside. It's entirely unfair." The redheaded woman presses a hand against the impressive mound of her stomach then, chuckling in a lighthearted reprieve at Harley's assertion. "Oh yes, and with vampires for parents and a Were for an aunt what a gloriously unconventional world she'll find herself in!" No truer words had ever been uttered, surely- the non-conventiality of the life promised her little one presented a source of both trepidation and curiosity for her mother-to-be.

The duo make impressively short work of their departure, homage to the unwavering desire within each of them to be rid of the nuances of daily life for even so short a time, hoisting their respective packs into the trunk before falling with almost an audible sigh of relief into the supple leather cradle of Harley's metal chariot. Isolt, commenting with noted sarcasm on the hand-drawn x's scrawled at various spots along the ribbon of their intended route, levels a scrupulous glance towards her dark-haired friend as the cryptic taunt bleeds with such purpose from Harley's lips. "The way I hear it, you've found yourself a little 'booty'. You've been holding out on me, Harlequin Ray, and it hurts me greatly." The tease (mostly) brings as its companion a markedly pathetic little pout to the cushions of Isolt's lips, though despite this a single brow is pitched skyward, a sidelong glance leveled at her dearest companion. This was hardly a subject to be easily cast aside and would no doubt be revisited sooner rather than later, her companion spared only by Isolt's admittedly child-like curiosity for the scrawls on the map she holds.

"You do sound responsible... I thought that was my job. And yes, soon-to-be mommas do experience 'technical difficulties'; thankfully, however, I'm well past the plague that is morning sickness and my being a vampire has spared me from most of the other delightful 'glitches' of pregnancy. Aaaand..." At this Isolt turns in her seat, as much as the plumpness of her frame allows as it strains against the grasp of the seat belt, a smile that could hardly be contained casting radiant light against the cool azure of the woman's upturned eyes, though when she continues her voice rises to no higher an octave than that an excited whisper, her left hand rising to better expose the glistening wedding band coiled so delicately about her ring finger. "... we don't have to worry about stopping for the sun. Damon had our wedding bands enchanted... Harley, I can walk in the sun. After spending years in nothing but darkness... I can finally walk in the sun!" Isolt searches expectantly for excitement that, she knows full well, may not quite match the magnitude of her own given the frequency with which Harley herself was capable of doing this presumably simple task. The implications for her vampiric companion, though, were momentous... not least of which was the realization that she and Damon would be able to raise their daughter in the warm embrace of the light of day. The impenetrable darkness of night was, after all, no place for a child.

Isolt eases herself back into the cupped leather hand of her seat, heaving a breathless sigh by way of response to her eldest friend's exclamation. "No joke, it has. Since the honeymoon it has been non-stop, last-minute, marathon baby-prepping. You should see me trying to fix up the nursery, I'm like a cocaine addict with OCD. Seriously, the nesting instinct is going to drive me out of my mind- Damon had to come in and just about drag me out of there the other day because I was fussing about so much." With the shaking of a handful of gossamer, copper curls does Isolt draw her little tale to an end, turning instead towards her dearest companion with a notably softened gaze. "So that's my life right now... what about you? And don't you dare spare me the gory details."