isolt griffin

As his face falls so, too, do anxious crags slice their way across the delicate pallor of her own features. Her inquiry had been innocent, born of the very same curiosity that had drawn her to ask so very many things of him both in the past and in this, their present. Isolt herself was a wellspring of knowledge and yet in this she felt she would only ever thirst for his wisdom in a manner most ravenous. She acknowledged quite readily that his was hardly the lengthiest lifespan even of the small vampire population in Sacrosanct; however, she trusted him in a way she could trust no other. She knew in the deepest and most vulnerable portions of herself that he would not lead her astray nor would he tarnish the purity of her curiosity with falsehoods and hearsay. Her question had been innocent, lighthearted, and so swift is the chagrin and brutal the self-admonishment as she recognizes the scowl as it sullies the chiseled curves of his handsome facade. His response is, truly, far more melancholy than she would have expected from he, the tutor and confidant who had henceforth been a preacher of the positive outlook towards looming immortality. He had acted many a time as her anchor in the roughest of seas and now, when he seemed to require the same of her, Isolt was determined to rise to the challenge earnestly.

"I don't want to just 'pass time' for the rest of eternity. I still want to live... as silly as that probably sounds. I want to do and see everything there is to be seen and done. I want to watch cities rise, I want to watch medicine develop... and I want to be a part of it. I don't want to be the silent observer." Even amidst the fae-blood haze Isolt is somewhat astonished at the bearing of her own forthright self, the young woman wilting somewhat with modesty, teeth gripping gently at the pillow of her bottom lip before quirking a brow lighthearted towards him. "Who knows, maybe I'll even cure cancer," she quips, fixing him an angelic simper that flickers incontrovertibly for a but a moment. "And humans aren't the only ones capable of breaking my heart, I'm sure," she lilts, an enigmatic aura casting its shade against the otherwise-dazzling azure of her eyes as they linger upon his own for a moment that is unapologetically too long.

She is silent for a time as she turns her eyes from his, pointing them instead to the blank canvas of her ceiling, a notion quite unexpected drifting from the maelstrom of faerie blood and to the semi-clarity of her mind's forefront. A smile crinkles the brims of her lips as Isolt merely whispers towards her companion. "Kill the light, please... I want to show you something." With characteristic and unwavering patience does she wait for his acquiesence before slowly and methodically lifting a single palm towards the ceiling above. It is a seemingly childish gesture, one that surely tells of the penchant for control after which she still quests; however, in this moment Isolt relies on her belief that he will not fault her this simplistic gesture... for what she has to show him is, she believes, truly remarkable. It is a parcel of her own magic not oft utilized in the presence of others and yet here, now, and with Damon she is comfortable in her decision to show him. It is seconds later that the transformation commences, the ceiling of her apartment disappearing beneath a covering of the deepest and most alluring dark, stars punctuating the liquid mass in a resplendently gorgeous mimic of the night sky. Slowly does her hand fall to his, her fingers taking their place amidst the tangle of his own, her head reclining gently against the sturdiness of his shoulder. "This is the only way I can fall asleep anymore. It reminds of that night on the cliff... and how calm I felt. How whole I was."