Eyes opened and pursued the incoming shadow of a man with eyes of poison ivy. The young Lykoi’s presence did not go ignored, and the man halted instead of continuing past. The golden young one was not a moth, and would rather crawl into the lonesome darkness rather than to flap his wings and steer into the hypnotizing light. But this individual’s presence was not frowned upon, and the calm ice in warmly shaded eyes did not harden and seethe with the knowledge that silence would not be given the chance to stay. Itachi was many things, and to Sirius he was a friendly existence that did not couple up with others so that he could listen to his own voice.
Eyelids hooded the brilliant swirls of colours as his gaze followed the fall of the dead hare. He was not accustomed to taking meat from others, but it was an offer he saw no immediate reason to decline. His stomach was empty and had been for some time. ”It would be most welcome, Sirius,” he replied, allowing his maw to dip in silent respect for the undeserved kindness he was met with. Silence was his friend, but he could stand being apart from it if the alternative was bearable. Again, the youth’s unique eyes rose to the eyes of the other. Sirius had the eyes of the snake, poisonous and deadly—there was no doubt danger lurking within that colour.
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