isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been

How terribly troubled he was.

Try though he might to erase the evidence of the inner turmoil that seems to consume him entirely, Tetradore could not hide the traces of melancholy that drew darkness to every emerald helix of his eyes. Not from her. Isolt knew the pain of her companion, for some of this burden was hers to share in a manner in which few, she presumed, were capable. But perhaps the greatest injustice of all was that, though the transgressions against him were irrefutable and many, Tetradore still had so very many blessings to be counted. Despite his feelings of isolation, of loneliness, there were a great many individuals who loved him to a far grander measure than he might be prone to fathom or believe. One such individual, after all, stands before him, embracing him in what is undoubtedly a small demonstration of a far more grandiose affection. The weak, defeated simper upon his lips coaxes a subtle, gentle shaking of her fire-crowned head. The warmth of the simper that spreads against her own features is breathtaking in its simplicity. "You are loved, Tet. I know it can be easy to forget but... you are. There will always be a place for you in my heart," she whispers softly before taking his arm in hers and allowing herself to be lead from the fabric fortress. This is, for now, all that she can do for him, the greater challenge of his own belief or disbelief something only he may grapple with.

They walk together, as easily as if they had done so a hundred times before, down the isle that had been paved in flowers. Away from the troubles of the past and towards her love and a future that promised them both a multitude of blessings. As the pair comes to a halt at the alter, Isolt offers Tetradore's arm a gentle squeeze, crimson lips pitching beautifully as she meets his eyes and parts from him to stand across from her fiance.

It is then that she spies Nadya's craning figure at the very edges of her vision, delicate brow pinching as crystalline blue eyes follow the trajectory of her companion's eye. It does not take long at all before Isolt's gaze falls upon the wedding's coordinator, the young woman shrugging helplessly as a handsomely-dressed Micah cowers behind the supposed barrier offered by her legs. Smiling broadly, Isolt lowers herself (somewhat gracefully) into a crouch and stretches out her arms to beckon the youngster towards her. It is a few moments of tremulous pause before the suit-clad child takes off at what could very well have been a sprint down the petal-strewn isle and into the arms of the waiting bride. Quietly does Isolt whisper her praise to the youngster, earning her a giddy chuckle as he offers her the larger of the two rings that he totes. It is giddiness that seems to evaporate, however, as Micah turns to offer Damon his bride's trinket in turn. The trembling of a tiny lip and the whimper that follows sees Isolt once more incline her lips to the young boy's ear, proffering encouragement solely for him. The result is a painfully slow advance, Micah extending the entire silken pillow and Isolt's wedding band to the towering man who stands opposite him.

Immediately does Micah retreat back to the safety of Isolt's embrace, a charming and lop-sided grin spreading against his angelic features in a show of irrevocable pride that nearly has her burst into a fit of laughter. With a single finger Isolt motions to her own cheek, prompting a kiss from the youngster that she returns in kind by brushing her lips gently against his forehead before turning him in the direction of his waiting mother. Seeing him safely returned to Nadya's lap, Isolt rises to once again face her lover, the gossamer wings of butterflies flittering in anticipatory glee within her stomach.