isolt griffin
The timely clicking of the door into its cradle heralds Isolt into the spacious sanctuary that is Raven's powder room. Had circumstances differed greatly from the present she might have been given to succumb to the draw of the modestly lavish fixtures and the understated elegance of the entire space; however, her eyes are blinded to the upscale grandeur of where she stands, her mind unable and unwilling to grant the room its proper merit. The young woman does not dare chance a look in the ornately-adorned mirror for fear of what she will see. She knows, in the deepest and most private sector of herself, that the face to peer back upon her would not be her own. It would not be the Isolt she had known so intimately. She is naught but a shell, a mind forsaken in a stranger's skin.

This notion is a sobering one as she peels the stained and bloodied mess of clothing from the pallor of her body, discarding the bundle of saturated fabric immediately into the rubbish bin... all thoughts of salvaging the garments discarded just as decidedly. The steaming water that rains down upon her blood-streaked body is bereft the comfort she had so hoped it might herald, and for a few long moments she simply allows it to run in spindly rivulets down the expanse of her slender form. Only then, slowly and methodically, does she set to cleansing herself of the blood and the sodden earth that chokes the otherwise immaculate tenderness of her flesh, sullied water swirling and lapping at her feet as she does so. Yet even when it is done, when she has extracted herself from the shower and swathed her finely-muscled frame into the silken embrace of a bathrobe, the suffocating fog of anxiety, of exhaustion, lingers.

Timidly Isolt pads in the direction of the living room where Raven and her presumed roommate have taken to lounging, the soft lilts of their voices permeating throughout the quietude of the remaining space. The young redhead pauses, but no effort is afforded to the idea of eavesdropping for fear of what she might overhear, for surely they must be discussing the situation (and, coincidentally her presence) in some detail. But Isolt does not ponder this, her own thoughts completely occupying a stress-addled brain that is capable of handling so very little in these moments. For an indiscernible amount of time she considers leaving, her demonstrated ability to be light of foot ensuring that her immediate departure would go unnoticed; however, she hesitates. No matter how vehemently her mind seeks to battle the idea, Isolt knows in near-absolute certainty that, should she venture out, no pleasantries would await her. Raven's kindness, her hospitality, is perhaps the only small light present in this bitter darkness; what manner of person would Isolt be if she were to squander and snuff this light so haphazardly? And so, bearing this in mind, she makes her entrance into the lounge, her footfalls merely whispers upon the floor.

Naught but a timid and crooked smile is offered to Alexis, Isolt giving the woman a rather wide berth before looking to Raven. "I borrowed a robe... I hope you don't mind. I just... didn't want to be in those clothes anymore," she whispers, slender digits fidgeting at the silken seams of the robe draped pleasantly over her frame. Forgoing any of the number of admittedly comfortable-looking lounges positioned about the space, Isolt lowers herself to the carpeted floor just beyond the blazing hearth, the fire warm upon her chilled flesh. She is not the horrifying sight of before: her mane of auburn locks falls in shimmering waves down her shoulders, the delicate pallor of her cheeks cleansed of the fingers of blood that had traced their macabre strands down those supple slopes. Blue eyes consider the lapping flames for a lingering moment before the silence, and all that it represents, becomes far too much to stomach. Tentatively she shifts, looking from one woman to the other in turn, a soft smile pulling at her lips. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. I know that it's not ideal, my being here, and I promise I won't stay long. But I wanted to say thank you. To the both of you... thank you."