isolt griffin
Isolt knows, is painfully aware that, even as the words form upon her lips that she cannot go home. There exists no such place, not anymore. In the past day she has forfeited so much more than just blood... she has been drained in every conceivable sense: mind, body, and soul. The home that once was is no longer, for even if she could somehow extract the required wherewithal from within herself to actually venture to the apartment that had become somewhat of a sanctuary over the years, she could not bear what would surely be a catastrophically devastating collision with Harley upon her arrival. The brunette's venomous hatred for vampires was no kept secret between the two women; ever since the night of her parents' demise Harley had been irrevocably turned from the light that was tolerance and unto searing ire. No blame could be placed upon her, this was a certainty; however, Isolt knew in some deep and hollow place within her that to go back to her dearest and most trusted companion would only see the infernal flames of her rancor turned to the young redheaded woman. Harley's hatred echoed in such severity that it was no true certainty that the admiration they held for one another could halt it. She knew also that if she would have to bear the look of disappointment, of alienation, in Harley's eyes that it would see her crumble. It would see her shatter.

And so, for the both of them, she would have to stay away... henceforth and forevermore.

Blue eyes, dulled somewhat in defeat, strayed to the canine at her side, the hardened glare she is fixed with dissolving any further protest. The young woman nods, following in obedient silence this creature who has found it within her heart to proffer mercy where so little was to be found. It is difficult to decipher truly how far they venture, her concentration as interrupted as it is, but finally they arrive at the gate of a rather exquisite home. Isolt's attention is distracted from the abode, however, with the effortless shifting of her companion from canine to... human. It was a peculiar thing indeed, Isolt having become so accustomed to Raven in her animal form that to view her as a human presented a rather absurd dilemma. The scarred woman's smile is echoed minutely upon the bloodied features of the auburn-haired girl as she traipses wearily into the house. Unknowing of how exactly she is to proceed, Isolt simply freezes in place, arms wrapped tightly around her saturated figure as Raven calls softly into the presumably empty space. Quickly Isolt scrubs at her bloodied cheeks, horrified in no small way at the thought of becoming acquainted with someone new looking as she presently does. The effect is still somewhat less than flattering.

The young woman who emerges from the darkened nether regions of Raven's home does not look upon Isolt immediately despite being such a foreign presence in their shared home; in fact, the demure girl suspects that the other woman is taking special measure not to see her. To deny her presence by omission. It stings the tenderness of Isolt's heart, and yet she cannot bring herself to truly see fault in this; they are, all of them, consumed by their own personal brands of denial this eve. Though however much this denial burns, it is not nearly as devastating as Raven's timely explanation of the presence of this strange newcomer. Isolt cringes visibly, her entire body seeming to revolt against the use of the word vampire, but a few syllables that cause her stomach to turn in a perilous tumbling act.

It would seem only then that the angelic woman finds it within her to gaze upon this thing that Raven has invited so suddenly into the sanctuary of their home, Isolt's eyes rising to meet hers. Her introduction seems but a formality, a forced and pseudo-pleasant nicety employed, perhaps, to ebb some of the tension that threatens to choke them. But it is only the most salacious nod to progress. The words might have issued some semblance of calm were it not for the tone in which they are delivered; a tone betraying only so brutally that it is really anything but a "pleasure". Isolt's eyes do not fully meet those of this newcomer, the young woman instead issuing a slight nod and her own whispered words. "Likewise... Alexis." The words that ensue, though, see the nervously fidgeting redhead still instantly. Only then does she allow her eyes, glistening but for the exhaustion that has seemed to draw on forever, to meet those of this stranger who would judge her so readily. It would seem she has already been damned by this woman who knows so very little of her; or, at the very least, the odds are now stacked dauntingly against her.

The newfound furrow of her delicate brow betrays her then, though when she speaks her words are stronger than before... if only slightly. "No. I... I wouldn't... I don't...," she gives pause, proverbial hands outstretched into the empty ether, the young woman completely at a loss for what she seeks to say. Exasperated, she turns to Raven, someone at least slightly familiar. The tiniest smile tugs every so coyly at her lips. "Raven, do you think I could clean myself up a bit? I probably look a fright." Indeed she does, once beautiful crimson locks dampened and plastered in ugly coils to her blood-stained face, her entire body appearing shrunken in the saturated garments that hang in veritable tatters from her limbs. Patient silence consumes her then as she waits for her curly-haired host to lead her onwards. She nods towards this new companion as she traipses passed, hushed syllables whispered into the verbal wasteland that sprawls betwixt them. "I'm sorry if I scared you, Alexis."