isolt marcello

I'm more alive than I've ever been

The smallest of grins skuttles unto her features as the vampire woman kneels behind her husband, his surprise and something far more lascivious nearly vibrating from him in waves of electricity that crash upon her in the most tantalizing way. It would seem she had not found herself having wholly lost the ability to entice her husband in this manner, even after so great a time had passed since last she had attempted it. Agony had not left her wholly without her wiles, it seemed.

In the moment that their eyes meet Isolt can sense a weakening of her resolve, the innate urge to kiss him almost instinctual... and yet she abstains. The vampire woman is painfully aware that if she were, in this moment, to kiss her husband that she may never stop kissing him. The evening that she had so carefully orchestrated would dissolve and they would pass the remainder of the evening gorging themselves on the marvels of the other's flesh. Perhaps the evening would end this way, in a tangle of limbs and love-making; however, Isolt remained steadfast in her desire that this would not wholly consume their time together.

And so, of all the caresses that she finds herself longing to bestow upon him the redheaded woman settles for the most gentle curling of her fingers into his own... tentative yet insistent. "It's a surprise," she whispers, nibbling briefly upon the tempting cushion of her bottom lip as she turns to lead her would-be captive from the office, the sway of her hips exaggerated in an obvious attempt to entice him further... though truly given the mild state of shock that played from every one of his features she doubted quite vehemently that such a gesture was even necessary.

The drive to their destination is punctuated by a tension that the vampire woman finds surprisingly titillating, offering her husband naught in the way of an inkling as to where she might be taking him. Finally do they find themselves in the parking lot of a night club, bathed in the inviting red glow of its neon lights. Outwardly it is much akin to the handful of other clubs to be found on the outer border of town, though there exists a certain aura of something else pulsating from within. It is every bit as enticing as the throbbing of a human heart.

A towering gentleman stands guard aside the front door, his otherworldly green eyes journeying unabashedly down Isolt's admittedly exposed figure as the pair draws near to him. "Let's see 'em," he issues blandly, though he does not extend his hand for their licenses. It is not this identification that he desires, instead offering a tepid gesture towards each vampire in turn. Glancing first towards Damon, Isolt allows her mouth to fall open, the long spires of her fangs dropping for the inspection of this gate keeper. Nodding for him to do the same the pair are then allowed to enter the establishment only to be greeted by a veritable vampire utopia. The fragrance of blood is a captivating undercurrent to the visually stunning array that spreads out before them. A long, curved bar adorns nearly a third of the establishment, boasting a collection of vampire-friendly libations the likes of which could not be easily found elsewhere. The majority of the remaining space serves as a dance floor, a mass of writhing bodies having already accumulated. Within the pulsating mass a handful of brightly-clad men and women saunter about, each bearing a bracelet denoting their species and blood type- for the discerning patron.

An expectant smile tugs at the brims of Isolt's cherry lips as she turns to her husband, pressing her body to his and craning her neck towards his ear so that he might hear her above the din of the growing crowd. "Drink or dance?" She pauses, watching him in eager anticipation for some inkling that this might be to his liking. That she might have chosen wisely for their evening together.