isolt griffin

Through the shimmering lense of no etherreal "sight" would it have been foreseen that the path of these two captives would continue to intersect in the manner that they had. It could have been quite rightly presumed that no harmonious flames were to be seen in the smoldering ruin of circumstance that had been their binding. The gnarled threads that had bound them to one another should have never been spun into such promising gold, and yet here they were... together. Not untouched or lacking affliction, neither of them healed or untainted in the aftermath of the fate they had shared, but somehow and against the odds that were undeniably stacked against them, they were together. Peacefully. It is this understated nuance that was the grandest affront to Risque and the war she had waged so forthrightly against the barest blossom of hope she had seen budding betwixt them in those first few moments. Their edges were tattered, yes, their seams decimated and never to meet again in any fashion relatable to how they had been... but even in this patchwork truce they had forged there was a certain peculiar manner of perfection to be seen. They were so beautifully broken, so splendidly shattered that in the reincarnation of their bond they had created something wholly and blissfully magnificent.

It is for this reason that a soft and kindhearted chortle tickles the young vampire's throat in the wake of his comment, a sentiment that would have surely been greater had she the ability to pluck at the clandestine harpstrings of his thoughts. He seemed to hold her in such greater esteem than she held herself, which surely guided the presumption that the Ark was not befitting whatever granduer he thought inherent in her character. "I don't care much for prestige. The Ark has this dark charm about it that's just... lovely," Isolt allows the final determination to pass her cherried lips in a mere whisper. She swallows the words that beg for release upon the curl of her tongue... the truth that, for now, she dare not impart upon him. The truth that she found the Ark just as darkly charming as she found him. The Ark was splendid solely because it was his, it was a reflection of him and all that he was. All that he had become.

The notion itself sees a simper blossom upon her lips as it does respectively on his own, though the words he whispers into her wanting ears coax fine lines of surprise to etch themselves gently into the smooth creme of her complexion as she casts her eyes to him. He had told her of his feelings once before in the throes of a quite significant inebriation; however, now he is unhindered, bereft the false courage of the drink and the doubt of his authenticity that it had sown into her mind. Now, it was truth... it was real. "Thank you," she whispers gently in return, turning towards him in a moment of lasped attentiveness. "Tet, I..." The words fall into the realm of those left unsaid, whatever sentiment she had been meaning to express left an enigma by the accidental exposure of her now smoldering forearm and the delicate plums of smoke rising from her lithe figure. Azure eyes travel a swift and harsh line between her disintegrating appendage and those alluring emerald gems of her partner, her lower lip aquiver with the mounting sorrow of what she is certain will come next. "I'm fine, I promise, I just need a little more time... just a little, please..."