isolt griffin
Even had he possessed the wherewithal to regale her with the grave tale of what had brought him stumbling to her doorstep the young vampire would have hardly required it, just as she would have known of his predicament even without the plethora of medical knowledge that had been her life's passion... for she had witnessed this particular scenario played out far too many a time in the abbreviated duration of her mortal life. Her brother had known this gauche mistress in very much the same harrowing manner that Davante seemed to, her titillatingly curled and beckoning finger having proven irresistable to Aaron on more occasions than she dared recollect in the present moment. Heroin had been his emancipation as surely as it had proven to be the chains that had bound him, it had been his heaven and his hell, the treacherous point of a compass' arrow to lead him blindly into the abyss that would ultimately consume his mind, body, and soul. And all the while Isolt could do naught else but act as the spectator to her brother's inevitable and tragic decay.

And yet this was something wholly and undeniably different.

By merit of the senses proffered to her by immortality does Isolt initially recognize the truest depths of his physical despair: the smell of infection was a horrifically tangible thing, the putrid stench of coagulated blood and organic refuse culminating in an aroma so rancid that it seemed to coat the constricted tube of her throat, clashing harshly with her every olfactory sensor. Fetid though the smell of whatever unseen wound he bore might have been, equally as atrocious was the sight of it as her companion stumbled forth, disgarding his dressings and revealing what the youthful vampire had already suspected. His inquiry, so simplistic and yet laden with uncertainty, with fear, clutched mercilessly at the stilled mass of her heart, coaxing but a single word from between her lips. "No." It is then that Isolt's proverbial reins fall into the knowing hands of instinct and years of rigorous training, the auburn-haired girl moving quickly to support his ailing body with the eternally-fortified solidity of her own, leading him swiftly into the solitude that was her bedroom. This, after all, was to surely be a scene she dared hope that Nadya would not lay eyes upon.

With a single, sweeping motion does she rid her bed of its duvet, reclining Davante's shivering frame with characteristic delicacy unto the plushness of her sheets before retreating promptly to retrieve a large black case from the powder room. It is a veritable cornucopia of medical accoutrement received upon the eve of her residency and, at present, the sole hope of Davante's salvation from the barbarous clutches of his supposed "mistress". Skillfully does the redhead filter through the buffet before her, the cogs of her impressively astute mind already at work to formulate whatever method might serve her companion best before she extracts a syringe and a single vial in glove-clad hands. Tentatively does she draw nearer to the ailing warlock, taking his arm delicately within her grasp before skillfully injecting the serum that would, indeed it is her fondest hope, counteract the effects of this self-induced poisoning.

It is then that her attentions shift to the festering wound at his side, Isolt taking care to roll his garments away from the dangerously-inflamed lesion that, she knew, portrayed every symptom of the sepsis that would endanger him far more than the crippling overdose that sought to consume him. The options were few and gruesome, and yet she could fathom no alternative to the solution most readily at hand. Carefully does she extract a scalpel from within the confines of her case, the delicate young woman placing her hand gently at the warlock's side, crystalline blue eyes venturing towards his own, a soft command pleading from betwixt her lips. "Dav... I have to clean this. I need you to be absolutely still, okay? I promise I'll make it better," she lilts, owing him the barest moment in which to steady himself before taking the blade to his skin.