I don't know much about vampires. It is painfully self-incriminating to admit this, because I often make it publicly known that I am not particularly accepting of vampirism. As little as I know about them, it is increasingly hypocritical of me to reduce the notion of the creatures in my head to little more than blood sucking leeches; equally difficult, though, was it to reverse this notion. I had little to no experience with the creatures that did not include some kind of injury, insult, demand, or related topic. They were often targets of the firm I contracted with. The reason why? Their necessary demise often spoke for itself: their wealth, their attitudes, their metaphorical notches on their bedposts of their victims. I don't know if my affinity towards distaste needs further explanation, but I found myself accepting the young vampires presence much quicker than I typically would. Could that be related to the humorous way she jumped at the stakes hanging from the ceiling, or could it be related to the innocent way she regarded me with a superficial edge to her voice. I knew she wouldn't be able to carry any proposed threat out to me, and that rendered her fairly harmless to me.

"Little do you know."

I only knew of the young woman through her kinship to Damon, and through various other sources that were unnamable and useless in the long term. While undescriptive, the tales of Isolt had reached my ears one way or another, allowing me to have some kind of vague idea of who she might be. I was not prepared to expect a skittish woman, as I wouldn't have pegged Damon for the type of man to appreciate that in a woman. But maybe it appealed to a softer side of him, one that yearned for validation and due to this, he sought out a woman who was soft in nature. Many women have a soft side, a part of them wrapped in a sateen ribbon that was undoable except for the intended man, alone. Quite literally a gift.
I wanted to sigh with exasperation, and the breath fell from my lips unbidden. What did she have to prepare for? There happened to be a great, vast variety of options â€" some of which I didn't bother even contemplating as they appealed far too greatly to the side of me that wanted to hate her kind. The impulse was easy to fight. There were stakes, there was magic... There were Hunters and angry witches or Warlocks who may want to end a young vampire who was not preoccupied with fame, glory, money, or anything that might contribute to a veritable vampiric reputation. Unlike most of her kind, there was a pale and tender hue to her presence; one that was not easily duplicated by the likes of any vampire I had met, or that I had yet to meet. I felt no pressure to answer her question, allowing her to find silence in the wake of my departure into the back room.

"It isn't what you are trying to do, Isolt. It's what someone might try and do to you."

As the dagger lay untouched in front of the vampire, I struggled to combat the urge to roll my eyes. The gesture would not be appreciated, and for some reason I wanted her approval of the weapon before I began any kind of negative descent. I turned the dagger over, inspecting my own work with a small rise and fall of my shoulder.

"For the one and only," I explained slowly, as if trying to tell a child something beyond their capacity to understand. Her disbelief that the dagger was for her tickled me; why was it so hard to believe? With a short laugh under my breath, I felt it was necessary to explain why I had presented her with the gift. "I like to tinker with metals and the like... It turns into an art, almost." I meant the words to help coax Isolt to believe my intents were simple and spawned from a thoughtful source. As an afterthought, I found myself explaining further â€" almost to my own surprise. " I take whatever reason I can to make something like this, but every description I have heard of you made me think you might find a pretty defense appealing.