isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been

"HARLEY!"

The exclamation is sharp but it is fleeting, Isolt's digits coiling desperately about the vehicle's door handle as the metal behemoth lurches before her companion rights its course once again. A wide-eyed glance, whether meant to admonish or merely to convey the sheer magnitude of the redheaded woman's surprise is hardly given a moment for debate before Isolt bursts into a fit of laughter for the look upon the raven-haired woman's face. Gently do the supple bulbs of her fingers twist at the wedding band in question, Isolt herself still very much laboring beneath the momentous heft of her own disbelief that it was possible for her to have been liberated from beneath the cloak of night's impenetrable dark. Damon had offered his assurances on more than a single occasion that there would come a day when the sunlight upon her flesh would feel every bit as natural as it had when she was mortal- though even now she finds herself shying at the idea of the morning's cool rays brushing their caresses against the pallor of her skin.

"Definitely not. You've seen my pasty whiteness even pre-going ungodly pale... I would probably still get a sunburn, knowing my luck," she issues with a chortle, though should she have professed true honesty she could not entirely deny that the possibly had not reared its impish head more than once. Though thankfully are her unfounded misgivings stricken down by talk of her impending motherhood. A smile tugs playfully at Isolt's cherry lips at Harley's assurances; it could not be denied that, of the two women, the crimson haired girl had always been the more "maternal" even in their youth. But... "I don't know," she admits softly, her eyes fixing upon her companion, "I'm really scared, Harley. I mean, what if I mess her up? What if having vampires for parents messes her up?" It is a raw and unapologetic moment of utter weakness on behalf of a woman who had, otherwise, come to embrace motherhood and its plethora of promised euphorias as if there existed no possibility for the contrary. But there did, and it had soured the sweetness of motherhood for her at more than one point during her pregnancy.

It is then that she bends the hand of conversation towards her eldest companion, curiosity for the woman's life a deep and ravenous thing that gnawed upon Isolt's insides all the time. Time and circumstance had undoubtedly taken their toll upon a bond that had once been ironclad, forged in a crucible of trust and understanding over the sprawling expanse of decades. And yet here they sat, separated by more than just the vehicle's center console; life had lead them down different avenues, it had taken from them in different manners and given them back far different recompense. The edges of Isolt's lips turn down at Harley's words, a string of razor wire tightening viciously about her heart with the knowledge that so much pain clung to the shoulders of her treasured friend. Isolt thought about Harley, and Tet, and Risque every day, the complexity of the situation a tangible and virulent thing, and moreso was she consumed by guilt with the thought that in some ultimate fashion Harley's tragedy had been forced by Isolt's hand. And yet that same hand that always been there to bolster the raven-haired woman, by all appearances, not been outstretched to save her from this paramount misfortune. Whether it would have been believed by her violet-eyed friend or not, Isolt toiled with scenarios and strategies about which she might proffer up some relief for Harley... each as unrealistic and useless as the one that had come before. How could she possibly undo all that had been done?

"Okay," she concedes, her voice choked to naught more than a whisper as she nods, cerulean eyes trained forwards for a time before the flamboyant neon glow of the shop sign captures the attention of both women. "I haven't been into one of those in forever! Let's do it..."


The automatic double doors of the PartyCity squeal open with the approach of the duo and it is much akin to the pealing open of stage's satin curtain to reveal the treasures that lay beyond. The teenager slouched against the cashier's counter issues them a halfhearted greeting, hardly bothering to gaze up from the glowing face of the phone she taps away at in a mindless stupor. The redheaded woman is unbothered, though, for her eyes are busy feasting upon the aisles of glitter, gadgets, and get-ups laid out in a veritable smorgasbord. Without diverting her gaze from the promising visual feast does Isolt incline her head towards the woman at her side. "Where do we even start?"