isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been

He need not utter a single word for her to know the thought that careened so brazenly across the breadth of his smoldering gaze as he looked upon her, the subtle insistence in his grasp as his hand coiled about her own and his lips brushed their affectionate caress against her supple skin. He need not say it because she felt it too. The evening had been far grander and more whimsical than even Isolt had dared to imagine, so many moments plucking delicately at the strings of utter perfection that it very nearly seemed to be a dream. A wonderful, wholesome dream that she had been elated to share with every individual who had found it within themselves to attend...

Now, however, the redheaded woman found herself yearning solely for the company of her lover. As the evening waned Isolt found that she desired little else than to be alone with her husband so that they might relish the evening and the solidity of their union. And so as his hand clasped hers she simply waved to their guests, a cordial smile speaking the words that she did not. Hardly does she make a sound as Damon sweeps her from her feet, instead inclining her head to lean against his shoulder as a soft chuckle is offered in response to his persistent urge to spoil her in whatever manner captured his fancy. Therefore it is hardly a surprise when their 'carriage' for the evening glides to a stop before them.

Isolt nestles into the leather embrace of the automobile, finding the plushness of it quite agreeable to her markedly swollen frame. She relaxes readily into the leather, though as she turns to her husband her eyes narrow with obvious suspicion. He was being purposely distant, averting his eyes from her own in a manner that spoke impeccably of his latent intent. The vampire queen makes as if to playfully chide him, but barely do the words grace her tongue than he turns to her, focusing instead upon the near-perfect sphere of her belly. Her eyes roll dramatically as she throws her head back, the quarrel over the baby's gender having proven a matter of hotly-contested debate the last few weeks. Isolt found herself determined that the child was a girl, Damon merely determined to prod her at every offered opportunity.

"That's why I chose them, because I knew they wouldn't be swayed by your charms," she quipped merrily, though her gaze and her tone softens as he leans in to speak to their unborn child. She adored him ever more in these moments, were such a thing truly possible, when she might be privvy to a glimpse of what he would be like as a father. It was a facet of him she had never before been privileged to behold, his stoicism and bravado a notably thick veneer that had, until recently, served to keep hidden this more tender part of him. Isolt's hand glides gently through his hair, wholly content to simply watch the charming, albeit currently one-sided, exchange for as long as he might allow. That was, until the baby sought to make itself known, squirming about before issuing a not-unimpressive kick that drew the slightest of jolts from Isolt. "She likes the sound of your voice," Isolt whispers as she grasps his hand to bring it gently to press against the curve of her stomach so that he might feel the series of fluttering kicks from within.