E T E R N A L

Sometimes interacting with these near immortals, these elder beings that roamed Lethe, it made you feel like a thirteen year old kid again. Or five, depending on their mien. Jonas had never cared for it, or for immortals as anything but clients, but Isolde was alright. Even if her prim ways tended to make him feel like that same thirteen year old in pinching shoes and pressed corduroy pants of yore. “What you’re sayin’ is that if I don’t charge you full price, you’ll start sendin’ me checks in the mail or stuffin’ bills in my front door.” That look said as much, and he sighed. “Alright, alright, I get it. But you’re an artist yourself, you appreciate shit better than most. Can’t help a man for appreciating that.” Jonas said, holding up his hands a moment as if to signal defeat. Tiny thing that she was, he could tell Isolde Allard was fiercer than she looked. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that, so he’d give in.

Didn’t take one to see the love in that portrait either, but he hadn’t expected it to be her brother, let alone a twin. You could live in Lethe a thousand years, he assumed, and always find something surprising creeping up to tackle you. And he had seen this guy before, he was sure of it. “He sells produce, doesn’t he? Bought some gorgeous apples off him the other week. Not much for conversation, but that’s alright. Not everybody is.” Jonas said after a moment’s thought. His own brother was a high powered lawyer, a bigot, and an asshole in no particular order. Hell, even his sister wasn’t much of a person to shake a stick at, let alone draw with such love. Almost made him envious. “Your shading is improvin’, that’s what I see here. That and your brother’s as handsome as you are beautiful, but hell, that’s obvious. Not a soft man, but you’ve given him softness.” Jonas said, ghosting his hand over the portrait in certain spots to highlight what caught his eye. She was good, better than she was willing to admit, but you couldn’t force people to take pride in their talent. Just encourage where you found the right moment. “So I’ll assume he’s got softness to him. How’d he get to be somewhat new to town? Like those eyes, they aren’t the eyes of some spring chicken. He’s seen centuries rise and fall or somethin’, got the kinda wisdom you’ve got in yours.”

“I hadn’t exactly considered that but I do appreciate the inspiration on the various ways I could proceed” the vampired replied with a smile. One way or another she would figure out how to pay the rightful price, and she was content that Jonas understood that. Isolde had had many years, centuries, to feed her appreciation for art and had gained a refined taste as a result. As a connoisseur of sorts. “I’m grateful, Jonas. But precisely because I appreciate it I can’t in good conscience pay less than what I know it should be worth”. Then, as he relented, she accepted it with a gracious nod.

“He does, yes” she confirmed as Jonas asked about Wesley. It was a nice surprise that the artist had met her brother because he could now tell whether she had captured his likeness well enough or not. “He’s more reserved than I am. Must run in the family” she admitted with a soft smile. Though the ways in which the Allard twins were reserved were quite different. One was more a quiet, kind soul; the other a result of old-fashioned, taught propriety. “He’s not the most talkative at first but he opens up more once you get to know him”. And Wesley was certainly someone worth getting to know, though the thought remained just a thought that she didn’t say out loud. Isolde quietly observed Jonas examine her work, curious as to what faults and virtues he found in the drawing. It made her smile to hear her technique was getting better. It was always a nice thing to hear her efforts were paying off, and that his teachings were helping her improve. Her eyes met Jonas’ for a moment and then went back to the piece she’d worked on, trying to see it the way he was seeing it. “He does. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever know” she mentioned. Wesley was bigger than her, more imposing in almost every way, and yet Isolde had always seen him as the gentlest person there was. It made her smile more brightly to hear Jonas reaffirm that she had managed to capture some of that in her drawing. “I still struggle the most with the eyes” she told him, looking up from the page to her teacher “I had to redraw his several times. I always feel that if I don’t get the eyes right the whole piece is somehow... ruined”. Perhaps calling it that was a bit much, but it was hard to shake the feeling of wrongness when the person on the paper didn’t quite look like the one that inspired the drawing.

“A learning experience then.” Lethe has treated her well in the past, he supposes the town can’t be all bad if its kept her afloat for centuries. He nods, wondering who she’ll find for it. “Do you know many people in town? Maybe you are friendly enough with a witch who can help out, and if you track down the jewelry, maybe it will lead to the culprit.” Wesley finds it strange the police can’t use the same technique in their investigation, but he knows very few of them are interested in a small robbery when, left and right, fires leave other businesses as embers. In comparison, Isolde has been lucky, even if he hates the idea of someone coming back to try again. “Do you think your robber and this arsonist running amok are one and the same?” He questions, a worried frown tugging at his face, drawing his attention away from the jewelry. They have centuries to catch up on, and it doesn’t surprise Wesley how many things he has to wonder about when it comes to her. He almost wishes Tobias had come to Lethe, if only to see another familiar face, if only to make Lethe seem more like a home he hasn’t had since leaving his first one. “Some people long to return home. Nostalgia, or comfort, or otherwise, I cannot say why. Did you… ever go home again?” It’s a delicate subject, but Wesley longs to know about his home and what became of it. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t anywhere major, even if their family was.

His attention returns to the jewelry as she speaks, crouching down to examine some of them more closely. A part of him aches, pieces of her life staring back at him. His life, too, and yet he feels quite apart from it, like a stranger standing in his place. “I have forgotten about so much of our lives. It has always been hard to picture it, I did not want to imagine you all moving on without me. Were they happy? Did you see them?” He asks, looking up to her, away from the pieces of jewelry which hurt him as much as it makes him miss them. It isn’t any easier to see her, and not be reminded of the time lost, but they’ll put it behind them, one step at a time. “I like to think Peter had a whole slew of children following at his feet, and Roger with a fair share of scandals before he settled down. I hope they had good lives, and long ones.” Wesley smiles, just a little, eyes growing distant. His imagination for his family had been simple: happy. “Maybe even family still out there. Once in a while, I thought about tracking them down, seeing if I could find any kids of yours or theirs. Thought I’d recognize their faces, but it was a long time ago and, well, it did seem like an encounter more likely to hurt than not.”

“I’m a terribly private person, I’m afraid” the vampire primly admitted. She did know people in town, it was impossible not to after having made Lethe her home for several decades, but she wasn’t so sure she would call any of them a friend with the exception of Brynn. “But I will find someone”. No friendly bonds were needed to employ someone for a specific job, after all. Wesley’s question was a relevant one and one she had considered as well. “I don’t think so, no” she replied, shaking her head lightly. “The fires were still going on when my shop was robbed”. To her it made more sense to believe the thief had used the commotion of the fires to their advantage, aware that the police would be preoccupied, than the thief being the same person as the arsonist.

Isolde could somewhat related to the sentiment of returning to one’s home. She had felt it once, and part of her felt to this day that even though she had a home she wasn’t quite home. Lethe lacked much of the unique feeling of truly belonging, though perhaps with her brother here now that could change. “No” she simply replied, remaining silent for a few seconds afterwards. Her eyes darted down to one of the pieces of jewelry before she looked at him again. Beautiful and composed as she usually was, the emotion shone through her eyes regardless. “It felt like there was too much loss there” she said in a quieter tone. “Perhaps I should’ve gone back but I didn’t quite feel the way I do now about those that are gone. Death was... harder to process for me back then”. Their mother had passed in that house, Wesley had been mourned as dead, and their father had fallen ill and withered fast soon after her wedding. “Peter and Roger visited us in Germany from time to time. It just- it felt better that way”.

His words shook something in her, and she could almost feel his hurt as her own. And just like that she felt part of the motherly nature she displayed when they were younger rushing back, unexpected but not unfamiliar at all. Her hands moved up to cup his cheeks between them and offered a soft smile. “You were missed so dearly, Wesley” she said, unable to keep her voice from shaking a little. “We mourned you and your absence was acutely felt, I dare say by Roger and me more openly than Father and Peter. But they missed you all the same” she told him, her thumbs brushing softly against her brother’s cheeks. “Roger was the first to marry, if you can imagine that” Isolde said with a light chuckle and then went on to tell him how it had happened. That their brother had gotten a local girl pregnant and married her for honor’s sake. It seemed like a recipe for a disastrous marriage and for Roger to be a reluctant father and yet he ended up taking on every responsibility for his baby girl, and what started as mere companionship in the endeavors of being parents ended up becoming a very loving relationship between Roger and his wife, Beatrice. After their first daughter two more followed. “Peter did have the largest family, of course. Six children” she went on, telling him of the visits their oldest brother paid her in Germany, bringing along his wife as well as his four boys and two girls. Respectable as ever, Peter had made a fine family man and a more loving father than the Allard children ever had. And of course, she had to tell him that Peter’s very first son had been named Wesley. Roger had died first, which she also told him, leaving them younger than he should’ve, at just forty-six; while Peter had lived long enough to see his grandchildren and even his first great-grandchild, though as a man in his early nineties his demetia hadn’t allow him to appreciate the momentous event. All in all, yes; they had been happy. They had suffered, they had struggled, but they had lived lives that so many would envy. Including herself, in some ways.

“I did keep up track of them for a while” she mentioned, thinking fondly of her nieces and nephews “But it got... complicated. I never exposed them to the truth of what I became so eventually they had to think I was gone, and I had to let them go”. Immortality could never match with the mortal lives of others, after all. But given the descendants of their brothers, it wasn’t wrong to think what Wesley was thinking: they most certainly had family out there. “We’re on the same boat, you and I. I did think of them from time to time as well, perhaps to feel less... I don’t know, alone... or left out” she confessed, voicing out thoughts that she hadn’t shared out loud with anyone before, not since her separation from Tobias. “I feel a little less that way now, brother” the vampired told him with a subtle smile, though one that was undeniably warm in nature “And I hope I can give something like that to you as well, a certainty that you’re not alone. I’m just one person, not a large family of sons, daughters, nieces and nephews; but I’m here for you. I’m here for you always”.

Confusion crossed his face. “What, is crime not common in this town?” He was a hermit, sure, and he didn’t venture into any of the nearby towns enough to know their crime rate, but he did recall their youth. Theft was common then, maybe the result of their wealth compared to the other folks in their hometown, or maybe just the desperation of the times. With how antique Nina made the town seem, he thought it would be common. His hand settled on her shoulder, squeezing briefly as he moved from one display case to the next one. “It hasn’t been too long, we can still find something. If not the culprit then the jewelry itself, have you seen if there are any witches who can help? I am not sure the limits of what they can do, truthfully.” His faith in the police department was slim to none, but Wesley had always been that way when it came to people investigating anything. Incompetence had no time limit truly. He smiled, relieved. “Thank you. Between the two of us, we can find somebody who will fit it well,” he said. He didn’t expect her to say no, but they were still finding their footing, were they not?

The bits and pieces she told him about Tobias were starting to create a bigger picture of the man, and he inclined his head. “You made it through the other side as friends then. I am surprised he is not in town, too? I figured he would have enjoyed a place to rest his head after centuries of traveling.” It was what had led Wesley to the west coat after the Revolutionary War: a place to sit without running, and a place to rest when his heart was weary of the bloodshed. Wesley watched her pull out the earrings and pendants, holding them gently in his hands. He smiled, looking up from them. “I am not surprised you were capable of making things like this, you have an eye for fine things - and a good memories. This pendant, it looks like something I saw Peter wearing a long time ago,” he admitted, thumb brushing over it carefully. He hadn’t thought about his brothers in a long time, and it brought a sigh from him as he handed the pieces back. Nostalgia was painful, sometimes.

Her touch was calming, as it had always been. The two of them had been able to read each other at a glance once upon a time, and time hadn’t changed all of it. “Thank you, Isolde,” he said after a moment, letting out a breath. “I suppose this is not the life either of us thought we would have back in the day either, and it need only be better than that. Which it is for me,” he admitted. 

“Oh no, it is. I suppose I was just fortunate enough before not have been a victim” the vampire admitted with a slight shrug. Crime had been one of those things that had just not happened to her, and being untouched by it for so long made it feel as if it wasn’t ever going to get in her way... until it did. “I believe I could employ someone to perform a tracking spell” she mused out loud, having been more concerned on what the police could do to consider other possibilities. Turning to witches for assistance didn’t sound like a bad idea at all now that Wesley mentioned it. Perhaps it was even wiser to trust others beyond the police force because she hadn’t gotten the feeling that they were at all concerned with her case. With the arsonist still running amok she could only imagine no other case held much importance compared to that one. She had only found help and support from her brother through all this, which she appreciated dearly as they were still getting reacquainted with one another.

She and Tobias had never discussed Lethe in their time together, and while she was certain he did know of the place as she had mentioned it to him in her letters, she had no way of knowing whether he had plans of ever coming to make this place his latest residence. “Well, he did love Germany too much” she admitted with a soft smile. After all their traveling they had always gone back home. She was aware that to avoid suspicion over his agelessness Tobias didn’t go back to the exact same place each time, but his homeland always seemed to call for him regardless. There was something nice about being able to show her work to her brother like this and when he mentioned he recognized one of the pieces. “You have a good eye too” she praised with a smile that even reached her eyes. “All of these,” she said as she gestured towards the pieces that she had crafted herself “contain elements from jewelry that I owned or that people close to me did”. Upon closer inspection Wesley would surely begin recognizing elements of some of Mother’s necklaces, of rings owned by Father, of brooches and pendants their brothers had worn. Subtly, discreetly, the jewelry Isolde had made contained pieces of her history.

Once upon a time Isolde had thought her life was meant to follow a certain path, but time had taught her that wasn’t the case. She could make her own path. And in spite of the hardships she’d gone through, she was happy with the way her life had turned out to be thus far. “It is for me as well” she told her brother with genuine warmth in her tone. “It certainly is different from what the girl I was all those centuries ago thought my time on this world would- it has been a far longer life to begin with”.she added with a brief and composed chuckle “but it’s been a good life. And it’s getting better now”. How could it not, after all, having her brother back in it.

Date: December 2020 Time: 2:34 PM Location: Infinity Jewelry

Jewelry is not really his thing. Sure, they are shiny and pretty, great as a gift sometimes. He wears necklaces, but rings and bracelets are just cumbersome… But overall, Terry was always more interested in their value in money. And with money he could do so much more. So when he found a raggedy bag full of gemstones, necklaces and rings, probably from his seafaring days… Well, his initial thought was ‘hey, that could be Layla’s college fund– or maybe even Brad’s’. He only knew one jewelry shop in town. After their rather candid talk about death and grief, Isolde has been bringing flowers to the grave time to time. As much as he somewhat appreciates the gesture, it sometimes feels awkward talking to Isolde. Maybe it’s her… well, ladylikeness or whatever it is the way to describe her without being a sexist.

“Good afternoon,” Terry greets as he walks in with his relatively clean shirts and coat. Going to a jewelry shop, to Terry, feels like an occasion to dress properly. And he is selling. Being presentable wouldn’t hurt, he thought. “So, uh, how’s the business? Don’t think I’ve ever been to your shop.” He attempts at a cursory small talk, because he’s not an animal. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in buying some old– I mean, vintage, jewelry.” He says as he places the bag of jewelries on the glass display. “I’ve no use for them and, well, pardon my crudeness, but I could use the money.” 

@isolde-allard​

Isolde was sipping on a cup of black tea with milk when the door of Infinity opened to reveal a familiar face. “Good afternood, Terrance” she greeted the man with a polite smile, setting her tea aside for the time being. “Well, I haven’t gotten robbed again, so I’d say it’s gone rather well” the vampire admitted. The incident back in September still felt fresh if only because of the many vintage pieces that had been so dear to her. Terrance didn’t strike him as the sort of person that would own vintage pieces -but then again she doesn’t know him well enough to know what kind of person he strikes her- but the revelation that he did was a welcomed surprise. “I would be interested, yes” she admitted, lacing her fingers together over the glass counter where some necklaces and bracelets were on display. “It’s not at all crude” Isolde’s lips tug but into a brief smile. “I will examine the pieces and then I can offer you a deal”  she said before she pulled out a wooden box from a cabinet under the glass display. From the box she extracted gloves so she wouldn’t touch the pieces with her bare hands and she also took out a 10x jewelry loupe. Terrance had brought her several pieces and she picked one at random, taking hold of a golden ring with a ruby. In plain sight it looked like a 16th century quatrefoil Renaissance ring. With the loupe she could have a closer inspection, examining the quality of band, looking for signs regarding the purity of the gem, and assess the detailed craftsmanship. “This is beautiful. Where did you get a piece like this?” she couldn’t help but ask as she lowered her loupe and looked at Terrance.

He was always a little wary about requests for ‘private’ lessons. More than once by agreeing to give them, it turned into an awkward situation where the student believed the whole thing was actually a date and he was left holding the paint, disappointed. Luckily he didn’t get that vibe from Ms. Allard. She actually appreciated his art, had bought enough pieces that he almost needed to give her one for free by way of thanks, and she didn’t…well, you know. Make eyes, like his mama used to say back when she was speaking to him. He wasn’t opposed to romance, to the sexual realm of things, but there was a time. A place. So not in his studio, basically, He was sorting out brushes for them to use when he heard the door go, several minutes prior to their appointment, but it seemed prudent to finish. After everything was finally loaded into the carrying tote, he rolled towards the sound of her footsteps and found her admiring one of the newer paintings that he had put out. “Aw, now, Miss Allard. I wouldn’t do somethin’ like that to you. And even if I had promised, why I’d be sure to tell them when I saw ‘em next it was reserved for someone else so you could have it.” He replied, nodding towards the table in the middle of the room.

One chair was stood next to it, an oaken piece just tall enough to be comfortable for his height in the chair. His most recent sketchbook lay on top, along with all the supplies they might need short of brushes and two relatively clean palettes. “But if you’re gonna keep buying up all my art, you can’t think I’ll let you pay full price all the time. Or you can, I guess, but I won’t let you.” Isolde seemed surprised by that statement and he shrugged, then set to laying out what they might need. His preferred medium was oil, but oil was unforgiving, so it was charcoal and watercolor pencils that he laid in front of them. Her own sketchbook he took with care, looking through the newest sketches with a faint smile on his lips. “I don’t know why you go on sayin’ you aren’t up to par, Miss Allard. These are real solid sketches, and this one…” Jonas said, pointing to one of a man who looked similar to Isolde herself. A lot of care went into this sketch, he could tell right away. “This one, this is real beautiful. Who is he, if you don’t mind me askin’? Don’t know as if I’ve seen him before.”

A prim smile crossed the vampire’s lips, pleased with Jonas’ response. “Excellent. Because with the changes in the shop, this might just be what I needed” she mentioned as she was drawn to look at the painting once more. None of the art had been stolen from Infinity, but the fact that some jewelry was noticeably missing meant Isolde had rearranged some things inside the shop and with a bit more empty spaces due to the glass displays that had been removed, more of his beautifully nuanced pieces could decorate the space. “Or who knows, I must just hang this one at home” she mused before she headed to their working area for the class.

Isolde has taking out her materials from her bag when he mentioned he wouldn’t let her pay full price for his art. Her eyebrows rose before she said “No, don’t be ridiculous. You will have to let me pay full price because I can’t accept not doing so” she stated simply as she looked at the artist take his place across from her. Sure, it was greatly appreciated that he was willing to lower the price for a recurrent client such as herself, but art was art and it should never be cheapened in any way. She crossed her legs ad gracefully rested a wrist against the table as Jonas evaluated what she’d worked on since their last class. Isolde generally enjoyed drawing people, even if just strangers she observed for just a moment at Irving Plaza. But the strokes were different in the way she drew someone that was very dear to her heart and it seemed Jonas took notice of that. “I don’t mind at all. He’s my twin brother, Wesley” she said as her lips tugged up into a soft smile. “He’s somewhat new to town, I suppose is the correct way of putting it”. Wesley had lived in the same area for so long, she’d learned, but it was only recently that his home became a part of Lethe.

@jonasdavenports

A woman of her time and of the social standing of the Allard family was meant to be instructed in various areas to be considered an accomplished lady. Music. Dancing. Embroidery. Drawing. Languages. Over time Isolde had continued to cultivate only a few of those skills while others somewhat faded due to lack of practice. Jonas Davenport was helping her mend that when it came to her drawing. He was one of her favorite artists -the paintings she’d bought to decorate her shop were a testament to that- and so getting private lessons from him to better that skill of hers was the highlight of her Thursday evenings.

After closing Infinity at eight sharp, closing the register and doing the bookkeeping of the day, the vampire grabbed her coat and the bag with her materials for class. By 8:25 p.m. she was already inside the gallery, stopping to see some of the paintings on display before the time for lesson began. Isolde didn’t fancy herself an aritst of Jonas’ level in any way, but drawing happened to be a hobby she enjoyed and she appreciated getting professional guidance on how to improve.

She was standing before a new painting, one she hadn’t seen hanging here before. Two bodies wrapped together almost like one, man and woman holding on to each other for dear life. Every detail was equisite and the mastery of the chiaroscuro would have made Caravaggio jealous in his time. The sound of the wheelchair took her out of that moment with the painting and she turned to meet the artist himself. “Hello Jonas” the vampire greeted with a smile before her eyes drifted back to the painting for a few seconds. “I hope you haven’t promised this one to anyone yet” she mentioned, clearly interested in purchasing the piece. It would be lovely adding another Davenport to her growing collection.

“I can’t imagine why.” Terry smirks before shaking his head. “The time has changed, unfortunately. Kids these days don’t even bother with respect and manner… but what do I know, I’m just an old man living in the woods.” He jokes, although he believes some of his words to be true… Tilda has told him some despicable shits young men (and specifically men) these days do, and that just gets his goats, so to speak. 

“Uh,” his initial response would be to say ‘yes, that is overstepping,’ but Terry manages to stop himself. His grief is selfish, private… jealous even. It always has been, like a child who doesn’t want to share their best friend with anybody else. There is a reason why he hid it so deep in the woods. He bites his lips, processing her offer with an uncomfortable grunt. “…alright. Guess they wouldn’t mind a new face.” He accepts reluctantly. “But this is only because you’ve already seen them. And just, lemme know before you go visit. I’ve got a charm that warns me when someone else goes in there, so… I’ll know when you go.” Those are his conditions. “And you can’t tell anybody about this.” He warns, his voice deep and dark. He doesn’t need people coming and going as they please. “Well, guess somethings are just unkillable,” he sighs, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “So even though memories are overrated… it’s better than nothing, I believe.” The trees thin out to a clearing, and a few buildings sprout from the asphalt in the distance. “There you go.” Terry gestures toward the town. “You don’t need me escorting you to the town proper, do you, m’lady?” He says playfully, not even waiting for her response before heading back into the forest. 

The corners of her lips tugged up subtly for just a heartbeat. The times had certainly changed and for the most part Isolde still found herself caught in between nostalgia for the past and wonder for the changes of the now. Even if he was ‘just an old man living in the woods’, the vampire appreciated his manners. For a moment there she was certain he would reject her proposal to come bring flowers to those buried here -and she wouldn’t have pushed the issue- but a fuller smile graced her lips when he finally agreed. “Yes, of course. I won’t show up unannounced” the woman said with a polite nod, content to accept his terms. She had only shown up unannounced this time because she been unaware that there were certain rules to follow and that Terrance guarded this cemetery.

Some things are just unkillable, he said and few words had rang so true to Isolde in a very long time. There was comfort in thinking love was such a thing and that the love given to others would never die even if the people were gone. And beings like herself -practically immortal- had the gift of being able to carry it eternally. “I agree. But still, I’d rather have them- the good, the bad and everything in between, than have nothing”. Isolde followed his motion and saw the skyline of Lethe against the light of a nearly setting sun. “Thank you, Terrance, I can make my way back on my own” the vampire said and after a polite nod to the man, they parted ways.

“Think you know the town a tad more than me, but there was a shop I passed on the way here, it seemed the type of place to know how?” he questions, unsure, frowning at the display cases. They might be shiny, and new, but there is nothing in them. “Have they made any headway on who did it? We can get some of it back, perhaps they have pawned it. Remember, we had someone back in the day who tried to steal mother’s jewelry, I do not think I have seen father so mad.” Except perhaps with Wesley, but he doesn’t mention this. He did think about Isolde’s words upon meeting, and he’s trying in bits and pieces to let some of his father’s teachings fade from his head. It isn’t easy, and he frowns thinking of it now, but he’s trying. “We will find someone then. Let me sit in on the interviews? I can point out if they are lying, one of the good things of dying.”

Wesley has wanted to question her on Tobias. He only vaguely recalls the man, some memories hazier than others, but he must be something if Isolde would consider an eternity with him. “He sounds like he was good to you during that time. Have you seen him at all since you separated?” he questions, curious if he’ll run into the man in Lethe as well. “Have you made all of this then?” Wesley gestures to the remaining pieces in the shop, some of which were spared the robbers sticky fingers. It still makes him grimace imagining someone running amok of his twin’s shop, but nothing to be done about it now. “You’ve done a great deal more with your immortality than most people. I have some of the scars, I am a lot better at fighting than I was before, the other benefit of being dead, but I only have the farm otherwise. I do not know why I chose to grow food… as someone who cannot eat.” He doesn’t question it anymore, he enjoys his work. He shoots her a lopsided smile. “You were always the wise one.”

“That’s probably true” the vampire smiled softly, since now she knew Wesley had mostly kept to himself for a very long time in spite of being so close to Lethe. “But I never really was in need to have this work done before”. The old cameras had already been installed when she bought the establishment back in the late 90’s. His question made her shoulders slouch a little for a moment, but Isolde was quick to compose herself as she answered “No. I’ve talked to Mr. Ulrich a few times, since he’s the officer in charge of my case, but-” There was a brief pause and Isolde shook her head lightly. “I’m not getting my hopes up”. Looking for her pieces of jewelry at pawn shops wasn’t a bad idea, but she was under the impression that if the police couldn’t solve the case and get her precious pieces back, neither could she. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, though, remembering fondly the event Wesley talked about. True, Father had been beside himself with rage when that theft took place, but it wasn’t unpleasant to think back to their family. And that little smile actually brightened when he offered to be there during the process of hiring a security guard for Infinity. “Of course, brother”. Even before his death, her twin had always had a special insight into people’s hearts, a delicate trait that only Isolde ever treasured in him. Maybe that was why it had always been so easy to trust him without question.

“He was good to me always. Even in the end” she assured him with a gentle nod so Wesley wouldn’t believe Tobias had ever been anything less than an absolute gentleman towards her. Love was never lacking in her relationship with her former husband, it never faltered in all their centuries together. Both of them had simply grown, changed, and eventually that led the to different paths. “No, I haven’t but we have exchanged a few letters in the past hundred years”. In spite of newer technologies, they still relied on pens and paper for nostalgic reasons. There was something beautiful in seeing his handwriting every couple of decades and knowing that someone that had been so crucial to her life was well. Her attention went to the pieces that had been spared. “Not all. Just the ones on this side” she said to her brother as she unlocked a glass case to their left to pull out a pair of earrings and a pendant of white gold and pearl to hand over to her brother. On the cases adjacent to them rested more bracelets, rings, and many more delicate necklaces. All of them the result of her work. “And then ones over there are the ones that belonged to my personal collection or that I’ve bought from jewelers around the world” she explained with a tilt of her head, as that was the division inside the shop. Half her work, half the craft of other talented artists.

His last words brought a small crease in her brow for a moment but as he smiled so she did she. “We all make our own path, Wesley” she said as she reached up to touch the side of his face affectionately. “And your path won’t look like anyone else’s. What you have done is no less important or worthy than what I have done”. It sounded like he hadn’t always felt at ease with the way he existed now, with that he’d done, but she could tell there was some enjoyment in what he did now. “I’m proud of you, you know?”. In her eyes her brother had always been more remarkable than he was ever given credit for and she was truly proud of the man that stood before her now.

FULL NAME: Isolde Allard NICKNAME(S): Izzy (only her dear friend Brynn calls her that)  DATE OF BIRTH: September 13th, 1267 NATIONALITY: English OCCUPATION: Jeweler / Owner of Infinity jewelry shop RELIGION: Catholic (non-practicing) GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender ORIENTATION: Heterosexual ETHNICITY: English SPECIES: Vampire 

II. APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Emily Browning HEIGHT: 5′ 1′′ WEIGHT: 112 lbs HAIR COLOR: Light brown EYE COLOR: Hazel green DOMINANT HAND: Right SCARS: She has some little scars scattered on her body from when she contracted smallpox at the age of twelve. TATTOOS: N/A PIERCINGS: Isolde only has her ears pierced.

III. BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: County Durham, England (However, Isolde lived the majority of her life in Cologne, Germany, with her former husband) CURRENT RESIDENCE: Lethe, Washington, USA FINANCIAL STATUS: Upper class EDUCATION LEVEL: Isolde never formally studied, however she became a well-educated woman through books mostly and by having personal tutuors.

IV. RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER: Godfrey Allard (deceased) MOTHER: Margaret Allard (deceased) PARTNER: Tobias Kahnwald (ex-husband) SIBLINGS: Peter Allard (older brother, deceased), Roger Allard (older brother, deceased) and Wesley Allard (twin brother)  FAMILY: N/A PET(S): None

V. PERSONALITY

MYERS-BRIGGS: INFJ ENNEATYPE: Type 1, The Reformer  MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Good TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic, Phlegmatic HOGWARTS HOUSE: Hufflepuff ELEMENT: Air SIN: Pride VIRTUE: Charity QUALITIES: Polite, Insightful, Sensitive, Compassionate, Clever & Altruistic  FLAWS: Reserved, Perfectionist, Avoidant, Old-fashioned, Self-critical & Fastidious SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, German, French and Latin FEAR(S): Losing her brother again, having a long existence filled with loneliness, unfulfilled potential, falling in love again only for things to crumble the way they did with Tobias.

VI. FAVORITES

Date: October 25, 2020 Time: 11:58am Location: Infinity Jewelry

@isolde-allard​

They were fixing up the last couple pieces before Isolde’s reopening, and he couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed something as mundane as cleaning off glass display cases. “This couldn’t have been a cheap repair, but it looks good as new, I don’t think any of your customers will tell the difference,” Wesley said to her, crouched beside one of the cases and eyeing the jewelry inside, shiny under its artificial light. “Have you got your security cameras fixed yet? I think there is someone in town who does things like that, or maybe someone to watch the place overnight? People will do anything for a bit of coin.” He would volunteer himself, but his farm took up too much of his time as it was, let alone helping out for several hours every night. With a last scrub of a smudge on the glass, Wesley straightened up, taking the cleaning supplies back into the cabinet she had pointed out on his last visit. It was a little awkward, still trying to make centuries of separation work under entirely different dynamics, but Wesley felt lighter whenever Isolde was around, so he thought it was going well enough. “What made you get into jewelry? I remember you trying pieces of it as kids, but I must have been too oblivious to notice your passion for it.”

There was something nice about working on the repairs of her shop alongside her brother, as if building something back to its former glory somehow helped them rebuild their own relationship. Though not as it once had been, but open to discover what it could be now. “They might just notice the missing pieces” she responded, hands resting on her hips as she looked around her shop. Infinity certainly looked as good as new, but the greatest damage had been done to her collection, after all. “I got the new cameras last Thursday but they haven’t been installed yet. Do you know someone who could install them?”. If Wesley happened to know someone who could get the job done, she would trust her brother’s recommendation. If not, she could surely look for options online and pick the one with the better reviews for their work. “I think I will hire security, though. I don’t want to risk having this happen again”. Having a guard at night looking after her shop was something she could definitely afford, after all.

After her brother returned from storing the cleaning supplies in place, Isolde touched his arm and smiled. A silent ‘thank you’ for all his help in these past days. She had a Nespresso machine to offer coffee to her clients and she wished she could at least offer a cup to her brother now, but she was aware that liches didn’t really eat or drink. “It was because of Tobias” she admitted with composure, though her eyes did drift down for a second. “He liked giving me necklaces and bracelets each year for our anniversary, and he would aways get rare pieces from all over the world. I inevitably ended up truly appreciating the craftsmanship and artistry behind jewelry making because of that”. It was the work put into each special piece that caught her attention more than the monetary value of the piece itself. “I guess you could say it became a pastime of mine to study the history of each piece I owned, its design, the process and the work that went into making them. And well, something serious stemmed from that hobby. I began to learn how to create jewelry a couple hundred years ago and I turned it into a job here”.

He flinched as she finished, her words raw and honest and all the more painful for it. The only good thing in his life before dying could be summarized as her. His twin. The only person in the world to not care about something as fickle as his luck, and Wesley hadn’t considered any of this when he woke in that field of dirt and fallen bodies. “When I woke, I felt free for a moment,” he said, trying to bring the feeling back again. Every emotion about dying - indeed, every emotion in general - had been buried so deep that it took him a moment to find it again. “And then I thought about Papa, and how ashamed he would be at my failure. And I thought of you, and how much you believed in me, and how I had rewarded it by dying, and it wasn’t a freedom anymore.” It didn’t explain the leaving, or the hiding, but Wesley didn’t have any explanation for it. It had seemed important upon rising that he go alone, that he cut the ties to his old life and maybe the next step was to find new ones. He had missed that one. Had stuck to the battles and the wars, and then his farm when those no longer filled the void that his family - that Isolde - once filled. Wesley swallowed back any other words, choking on them, unable to cry and feeling all the worse for it. For a long second, his lips parted, staring at her, trying to find words, and maybe the Wesley who knew the right thing to say was too far gone to respond. Instead, he reached out, fumbling fingers catching hold of her and drawing her into a tight hug, and murmured a “Forgive me” against her hair.  He couldn’t change the past, but knowing she was here, knowing he wasn’t so painfully alone anymore, made a little piece of him click back into place.

Isolde listened to her brother as he spoke, her expression softening somewhat. She listened and accepted that that had been what he felt, even if she couldn’t fully understand it. His motives for leaving -for leaving her alone- were valid in their own way, as much as that pained her... Her twin got close and held her and it only took her a second of hesitation before she wrapped her arms tightly around him, focusing more on his presence here and now rather than his absence for all those centuries in the past. “I forgive you” she responded softly, as her hug tightened. “I will always forgive you” she added, knowing very well that truer words had never been spoken. In spite of the pain in her past or the resentment she felt over discovering he chose to stay away, there was nothing her brother could do to make her love him any less. And loving Wesley as much as she did meant she would always have forgiveness and acceptance for him. It was that way before and it would go on being that way forever.

Wesley shook his head slowly as if he could somehow clear the emotions from it, as he had handled anything to do with his family over the last three centuries. It was impossible with her in front of him, the pain and the love like a lump in his chest seemed never ending when he knew all of it was his fault. The guilt was a weight on its own, and he tried to wait out the burn of it by sucking in a breath of air. Useless, he didn’t need to breath, and talk of Tobias didn’t help him. Not when he knew his sister died to be with him, and Wesley had not been there to help her decide. “You should have gotten to keep dreaming,” he said hollowly,  reaching up to hold her face and swipe the tears that lingered there, fingers coming back red. The sight of her tears as a red streak down her face was proof enough of her fate, one he didn’t need and yet could feel down to his core nonetheless. A tremble went through him at her question, and he swallowed, trying to ease the lump, and failed. She deserved truth, painful as it was for him to speak it. “If I was dead, there was no shame holding over my head. Papa would have been happier, I think, to know I died a soldier’s death with honor.” Their father was a good man, he loved them, but Wesley knew his patience had limits and Wesley often pushed it to the limit. “I was ashamed that I couldn’t even die properly.” Like with near everything else, Wesley had failed to survive, the only thing he had considered himself capable of doing. Isolde was the only person who thought he was worth something outside of fighting.

Isolde’s lips quivered as her brother reached out to wipe away her tears. She’d never been one to cry in front of others and now -with blood-red tears across her cheeks- even less. The vampire was quick to turn, looking for a handkerchief in her purse and going ahead to wipe her face clean. His response to the hard question she asked hit her like a ton of bricks. Their father had been a good man, but never quite as good to Wesley as he’d been to her... and yet her brother had still thought of his happiness. “Right. Papa...” she muttered, fiddling with her kerchief before she set it aside, looking up to meet his eyes. “You thought about him but you didn’t think about me, Wesley” she said, not filtering her thoughts into kinder, proper or more dignified words. He’d been half of her back in their youth and she’d been half of him, but apparently that didn’t hold enough meaning after he died. Had it really not crossed his mind how much it would break her -how much it actually did- to lose him? Isolde let ouf a soft breath, glancing down for a moment. She could feel the impulse to cry again but this time she wasn’t letting her emotions get the best of her. “I missed you every single day, brother... And I hated myself when I learned to live without you” she said in a low tone, still avoiding Wesley’s eyes. “There is no shame in what happened to you, in how you died and kept on existing. I see only the shame of your own making in your choice to hide” she mentioned with a hint of resentment in her tone. But she didn’t want to go on carrying that feeling for another second. Isolde walked back to stand before her brother, taking hold of his hand as she looked up, locking eyes with him. “But if you ask me to forgive you I will do so right now, brother. And we will not wallow, we will not regret what happened, we will not wonder what could have been... We will only focus on what the future holds for both of us”.