isolt griffin

It all seemed to coalesce into the waiting and peripheral nether, dripping as overly saturated paint from the plaque of an artist's canvas. Ribbons of pigment that dripped away, collecting in the unseen gutters of the farthest corners of Isolt's reality to leave only herself and the rising sun as it peeked from the horizon to greet her as some long-lost but hardly forgotten and no less cherished companion. For the barest few moments even the lounging man at her side seemed to ebb with this flickering reality, for so completely was her attention, her heart, captured by the heavenly iris and its palette of companion hues. But though he flickers as some windblown flame in the farther reaches of her immediate scope, never could she forget that he lingers there. All of it, this momentary glimpse into the life that had been before, was only possible because he had made it so. It had been his will that had made this way, that had blazed this trail.

Her eyes venture from him at the question he poses, returning to the sunrise she had yearned for in nearly every moment since the moment she had passed on... the last moment she had known life in its true scope. It was not as simple an answer as it may have seemed to him or, even, to her before the asking. Isolt had attempted to questionable avail to hold on to many things in this afterlife, to take with her all that her mind was capable of carrying from the life she had lived before. It was a burden made all the heavier, all the more taxing, with the heft of the palpable fear that she would one day forget it all... that it would drip from the canvas of her mind in streams of the murkiest grey, memories made too abstract to ever be deciphered for the truths they had once represented. A fear that, in some measure, was solidified with this treasured experience; for it was hardly what she remembered... the memory long since diluted, ravaged by the admonishing hands of time and circumstance.

The flames of her tresses dance with the subtle shaking of the young woman's head, a simple "no" all she finds herself capable of offering by way of response for a time. Ever so slowly does she find herself lowering to sit beside him, the sage fabric of her dress billowing about her slender figure in a most glamorous fashion. "It's... better. It's almost like it never happened, like it was all just a dream and I'm finally awake. I feel...," but that is all, it would seem, the infant vampire wholly and completely unable to impart upon him the knowledge of exactly how it is that she feels, how her heart is at once shriveling with the agony of this memory and beating in boundless joy at the opportunity to feel in this manner again.

It is joy, though, that conquers, that claims this moment with its glory as a dazzling smile creases the edges of her sweetheart lips and brightens the facets of a face too long shrouded by the endless dark. Isolt is loathe to peel her eyes from the ever-brightening glow of the horizon; however, she does so to look upon him once more. "I don't know how I could ever thank you enough for this, Tet. I don't think it's even possible. I can't even believe this..."