but I'm sure she was in hell

Itachi Lykoi · 01-03-2012, 12:40 PM

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Flawed orbs of ruby and traces of sapphire intrusion seemed to gleam dully in the sparse light, set in his paled face. Patient fingers picked up item after item, turning it around and bringing them closer to searching pupils, dilated by the stagnant gloom within the hollow shell of what probably had been a fine house built for a family of five so many years ago. The absence of maintenance had taken its heavy toll, for though the adult dressed in finely spun gold and black fabric threaded with care, his blonde audits trembled slightly with the screeching floor as it protested against his intruding presence.

Itachi spent many wasted minutes in the small entrance area of the open house. On the spoiling dressed, fingers had curled around a broken picture frame. Empty eyes held a touch of the curiosity that lingered behind his mask of skin and flesh. Naturally, being a canine, it was given that his brain found the human appearance quite alien. There were many creatures that differenced from the dominant canine population. Citizens of the water were stranger to behold that homo sapiens, though it didn’t feel that way, for he had grown up accustomed to sporadic meals of the sea. These shapes in the still image weren’t alive anymore—none of their species was.

Perhaps he would encounter their bony remains once he made his way deeper into the deceased’s home. Itachi welcomed such an opportunity, for he’d be delighted to discover the skeletal differences between the optime and human shape. Another moment was offered to remember the dead, as he brought the picture up closer, nearly pressing it against his light muzzle. There seemed to be a four legged creature in the background. A canine, he determined. How very strange. No dedicated lesson of ancient, pre-werewolf history had been offered to him about this lost civilization. He knew only to recognize their remains and make use of some of their simpler equipment.

But simple curiosity could only push him so far, and he put the broken frame down where he had found it, though this time, the strangely smiling eyes in the captured moment of short lived happiness were allowed to peer out into the room once again, and not face the mouldy surface of the dresser. Another hard crack exploded against his ears; the sound magnified by the forced stillness that lingered inside this house of the dead. And to think, there were countless cities full of homes more or less identical to this one. How a sorrowful way for a global empire to fall. Were the luperci destined to follow in their apocalyptic footsteps when they had settled on the defeated species’ throne?

But what use was it to ponder such thought. Greed was what he was, and he didn’t seek the memories of the departed, nor his distant future. He sought gleaming red and matching blue, and softer forms of ancient, fossilized tree resin. Perhaps he was looking for items that couldn’t be found as easily as he wished. He made clear to resist spending a little eternity within the house’s crumbled shell. On the second floor and a bedroom lacking parts of the flooring, he had found hidden treasure hidden behind the reeking veil of rotted textile. Apparently there was a key required to open the box, and he had none. Therefore, the small object had disappeared into one of the pockets on the inside of his cloak; to be forced to spill its secrets another day.

At the return towards the open entrance, the same wooden plank cracked under the careless sole of his optime foot. It would favour him to pay more attention than he did presently, but though it was a general desire of his to avoid company, he didn’t hide away in the shadows, fearful of confrontation. It was he that was the hunter, after all. Salsola was perhaps not as strong in numbers as other packs nearby, but their rumours had created a fearsome image. It was easy to conjure thoughts of carelessness once one was part of the upper class. But it was important to remember that it was all a precious bubble of illusion.

Eyes dressed with the hues of a pregnant sunset squinted as he reached the empty doorframe and was met with the depressed rays from a sun hidden behind its clouded shroud, so far above. Ears, just a thought larger than a common wolf’s, rose to the top of his golden locked head, moving in pursuit of sound. He didn’t judge it too quiet, though perhaps it was something on top of the wind that seemed to alert his alert senses. Not comfortable with the improved brightness of the outside just yet, dark pupils amidst unique, fiery colour scrutinized his immediate surroundings. After passing moments of stillness, Itachi’s pace returned to allow him to ascend the few stairs from the porch and onto the cracked asphalt road once again.

And it was first now that his olfaction captured the echo of a fragrance that hadn’t been present before he had invaded the abandoned human home. He was reminded of the familiar weight of the slender blade hidden behind the fullness of his dark coat. It had been some time since he had been pressed to draw it to serve its dark purpose. The steady pulse leaping along his throat did not hasten as the Lykoi’s form stilled once again, aware of the heightened possibility of another canine’s presence. But his eyes didn’t find the woman hiding in the shadow of another of many darkened holes of doorless homes.

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