isolt griffin

Had she breath it might have been bated, stayed and left stagnant within her lungs as she looked to him for the decisiveness of which she had naught, for the approval she thirsted for in the most horrific way. She knew the rules as well as he, having committed the timeframe to the vault of her memory in the very moment that it had been given; and yet, for whatever reason, Isolt craves his acquiescence, awaits his verdict. The curt nodding of his head begets her smile, a radiant and beaming thing it is; however, his expression does little to match the unabashed elation of her own. The worry that mars his handsome face is an abjectly foreign thing, out of place upon his normally so esoteric features. So unexpected is it that the simper wilts and falls from her pillowy lips, a hurried nod hers to offer in response to his subtle command as she takes his offered hand. The warmth of his flesh is a comfort she had hardly forgotten, an homage to vitality, to life in all of its wonder... and so she finds herself allowing her hand to linger within his for as long a time as he would deem fitting.

Short work is made of the towering metal staircase, the exuberant vampire nearly skipping as she makes her way to the waiting automobile, inwardly admiring the picturesque machine made all the more magnificent by the rays of the wanton sun as they caress every expertly-sloping curve. Though perhaps more magnificent than the car itself was the sensation of the warm, sunny breath upon her skin, its fingers raking softly through her curtain of auburn locks as they drove. "My brother, Harley, and I would go to the beach nearly every weekend in the summer when we were younger. It was perfect," she mused softly, just as much for her own self as for her companion. They were fond memories, recollections of a time when life had been wholesome, when it had been simple, before unseen hands had eclipsed the proverbial flame of her mortal self and cast her into this deepest dark... when her life had been filled with light. She basks in it now, having aged more than a year beneath the veil of darkness, seeming to see the world through new eyes.

In an attempt to stymie the nearly-insatiably wanton hunger to feel the heated sand beneath her feet, Isolt waits patiently for her companion to extract himself from the car as they arrive in record time upon the shore. It is quite a feat, and a battle soon lost as the redheaded damsel discards the sandals that had henceforth swathed her feet and delves her digits into the warm cushion of the sand. The sage fabric of her sundress billows in her wake as some mesmorizing veil, the gentle ocean zephyr toying playfully with her curls and whipping them about her bare shoulders as she twirls in an adorably childish and gleeful dance. Isolt sashays whimsically in the darkened spongy strip of moistened sand at the shore, sighing contentedly as the ever-rising tide kisses her bare feet. Artfully taming a few strands of stray fire does she turn to her counterpart, a single beckoning finger curled towards him in invitation... the smile that graces her lips as bright as the sun itself.