The Last Supper

Itachi Lykoi · 03-14-2012, 07:09 AM

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Though invisible to all, Itachi was currently in a transition. He did not wish to sit by this table tonight and eat with his people, but he was expected to be there. It was not a personal wish, for his desired companion was not present here. Wrapped in thoughts, he arrived to find an appropriate seat, though not before going through the formal greetings to his superiors. They were right to be displeased with him, he supposed. Gilded hues were cloaked in the black and red of his unique coat, even if the chill slowly but steadily had started to leak out of the evening ear as the young year matured into another spring.

Without words or glances to the rest of the present party, he sat down and half closed his sunset eyes. Hands gently folded in his lap. The blonde had no appetite to speak of, but he would feast together with the rest of Salsola. While others might take narcotics and alcohol, he would remain sober with water and the simplest of the dishes. Only briefly did he take the time to look over the present members.

The pack was growing, and there was one face in particular he had wondered if he would see again. But the man from the lands of sands and sun had revealed weakness to the Lykoi hybrid, and it had made him expect never to see him again. And he wasn’t even a slave. How fortunate for him. There was no desire to reveal that it was Imhotep that had been the man that had fled the borders the day when Itachi’s wolfish call had risen to catch the attention of his leaders. He had nothing he wanted to gain anyway. He only wanted to retire early to the night and return to the company of his Muse.

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