isolt marcello

I'm more alive than I've ever been

She was adrift in a minefield of her own volition, the laws of which she understood in no small measure as the continuance of her life had once depended on her ability to understand and abide by them. In this place, one lived and died by the rules that need not be spoken aloud. It is this inherent understanding that seems to fail her in the moment that the remarks, though relatively tepid in comparison to those that echo within the darker corners of her mind, escape the curl of her tongue. Such was her derision towards the raven-haired woman that even now her tongue cannot be completely stilled. But she harbors neither the strength nor desire to engage in a battle- whether verbal or otherwise- with the woman who slides towards her with every bit of practiced, insidious refinement that Isolt remembers. She was stunning- a truth that could not ever have been refuted, even by Isolt- in the way that poised predators were stunning to behold... marvels of evolution just as she was.

The crimson-haired woman's eyes fall to the floor as Risque glides about her, their fleshy curtains falling to a close with the sensation of even this briefest of caresses as the captured copper locks fall from her Maker's fingers. The proximity of her body and the cloying ribbon of the other woman's perfume as it licks against Isolt's senses is nearly overwhelming. There were blessedly few moments in their shared history that had seen the two vampires so close to one another, each instance having resulted in tragedy of one type or another. Her pinched features slacken with relief, however, as the prowling queen returns to her would-be throne. Isolt is prepared for the rejection that is surely to follow, for this was quickly proving to be every bit the fool's errand that she had feared. A desperate and poorly-conceived bid for something vaguely resembling closure. There was, after all, not a single viable reason that Risque would or should aide her. Blood was binding... but only just so, and some rifts could not be bridged. Some wounds ran too deep to be mended.

And so it is with greatest surprise that Isolt finds the eyes of her Maker once more, frozen in silence at the other woman's insistence that she speak. It is in that moment that she finds herself without the words that she requires. How could she possibly entice this woman, this monster to understand what had brought her here? How could someone so egregious, so unapologetically malevolent possibly empathize with the desperate yearnings of a childless mother? Long ago, in the few quiet moments afforded to her in the bowels of the former Syn, Isolt had pondered what Risque might have been like in her time as a mortal... and what had made her so terribly vile. What had eaten away at the soft flesh of humanity only to leave behind the Levithan that towered before her now? The realization lands with the force of an ice pick to the stomach... Perhaps they were not so very different- after all, was Isolt not about to request something truly egregious? Something vile? Maybe her journey through this afterlife was beginning to shift in a manner most unexpected.

She forces the consideration wayward and into the gaping abyss of things not to be revisited, choosing (for the moment at least) to ignore the implications. Instead does the fire-crowned vampire gather herself- or, rather, what was left of who she once had been- swallowing forcefully past the knotted bulb in her throat. "I.. I need your help to find someone. Two, actually. Witches, they..." The syllables catch themselves upon the knot that clenches ever tighter within her throat, words that she had not spoken even to her husband escaping as naught more than a whispered hiss. "...they killed my daughter." She allows a moment of pregnant silence to pass between them. When she speaks again her voice is bolstered- but only just. "I need to find them so that I can make them suffer the way that Damon and I have suffered. I want to hurt them the way that they've hurt us."

"I need to find them so that I can make them pay for what they've done."