The blonde didn’t think twice about the savage way she ripped the fresh rabbit meat from his offering hand and crawled away to a fictive corner like the imprisoned lion in his cage. Itachi didn’t find it outrageous that chances had tossed the two of them together, this cold night. He carried the blood of several prominent families, and there were relatives to be found in every part of ‘Souls. However, it was less common to run into a daughter of Haku Soul. It was as if it was a part of some twisted plan that he had never been informed about.
Lilin. So it was true then. He wasn’t as insane that he had suspected he was. The Lykoi was not grateful to discover this. It was unnerving to know that they both had been touched by cold fingers that belonged in an unmarked grave. The female’s age didn’t differ much from his, but Itachi alone was not able to guess who the dame might be. He had learned much and more about his grandsire, and knew that there could be tumorous offspring everywhere, corrupting the place in their own, individual ways. He supposed that he was one of them, even if it was Conor that was the monster’s son. The infection ran deep and strong.
He was unaware of long dead demonologies funded by humans, and did not know that there was meaning behind her name. ”We have not,” he established, for the two of them had never laid eyes on each other. He resented this meeting, but this fact was completely hidden behind his apparent apathy. He was a silent spectator and didn’t allow feelings to run shallowly under his skin and reflect in his red audits. He faintly approved of her vicious treatment of the dead flesh though. The Family was picky and extravagant when it came to their meals, but Itachi was known to prefer his meals fresh, as raw and bloody as they came.
”Would you please tell me about yourself?” he asked, politely with lowered eyes. The second rabbit was now methodically losing its skin the same way as its dead companion. If she decided that one rabbit wouldn’t cut it, there would be more, though it was obligatory for him too to claim a piece for himself. The man was lean and slender by appearance, not only because of the hybrid blood flowing in his veins, but because he scarcely ate more than what his body required. But the scent of dead, coagulated blood was well detectable in the air. Though it was not as appetizing as fresh, hot blood with a beating pulse, it was enough to inflict shallow ache of hunger behind his ribs.
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