isolt griffin
Snarling erupts as a thunderous quaking to thrum against sensitive eardrums, the canine crouching before her vibrating with the ferocity of its warning, its promise. And yet it draws no nearer to the slender female vampire, choosing instead to gnash its yellowed canines and flick its threadbare tail about in lieu of the violence that never does come. At least not from the wolf to her front. A soft whistling is all that tells of the staff's trajectory as it slices through the air, connecting with bone-fracturing force as it lands its mark upon the slope of Isolt's lower back. She feels as the stony husk of a vertebrae gives way, the bone's jagged edge pinching into the sensitive tube within and immediately robbing the nerves of her legs of their sensorial abilities and bringing her to the ground. It is an agony the likes of which she had yet to experience in this life or the one that had been before; a piercing, twisting needle of pain rocketing from her lower back to lick its flame through the soft tissue of her brain.

Raven's towering frame casts its shadow onto Isolt's body before she can do more than plant her forehead unto the grass below her, the pleasant tingle of fur whispering over the young vampire's neck. A cry, the first, rips its way from the confines of Isolt's throat with the caress of Raven's nose, a probing touch that heralds pain to throttle the end of every nerve. She clings to consciousness only because she knows that relief will come. No matter how slowly. So consumed is the budding vampire that the words of the exchange Raven shares with her blonde assailant are lost near entirely to her mental effluvium. Her eyes press tightly closed as Isolt wills her body to repair itself, the maddening tingle of newly-reawakened nerves buzzing about her entire lower half as the situation begins to once more paint itself unto the canvas that is before her.

With every moment that slips between her fingers, Isolt's body rights itself, strength pouring into every last cord of muscle as she poises herself beneath Raven's monolithic frame. The squeal of the canine captured by her companion's jaws is but an echo into the gaping mouth of the abyss, for Isolt's attention is solely upon the blonde man as he draws ever nigh, the offending staff clutched in front of him protectively. It is only as a sneer pulls his face into a disgustingly outraged mask that Isolt acts, launching herself from the relative safety of Raven's protection and towards the man who would have surely seen her staked, the bo staff bending with the pressure of her actions as she forces its holder into the tree at his back... forcing him into the hardly forgiving totem of the oak again and again. Such is the power of her immortal muscle that he slumps against the bark of the tree, blood wafting to her nostrils in a titillating wave from whatever injury she has inflicted and leaving the staff in Isolt's possession.

Not a second is left to waste as the redhead pivots, taking the staff to the remaining wolves with a force that is nothing if not abhorrently brutal and bone-jarring. Wizened, perhaps, by the fall of their Alpha the pathetic remainder of the pack retreats, coalescing in to the darkness of the surrounding fauna. It is only then that Isolt chances a glance towards her friend, crystalline eyes tracing a slow and deliberate line from wolf to master for this was not a decision that was hers to make. Only Raven could rightly decide the fate of the man grumbling and cursing at the base of the nearby tree...