As someone hidden to the sands of time: Hisoka had seen a great deal throughout his life. There were thoese that were scarred, destroyed utterly in just a few years walking these lands. What would you say to a creature that was born with it? That lived for millions of sun rises and sets; watched civilizations fall and raise? There are ruins in these lands of clans that once believed themsleves endless. Leaders that Hisoka had stared down and watched fall within the span of months. Time was a funny concept; there was very little of interest to Hisoka these days. He lived simple because he had yet to die, and not because his lifespan had some sort of timer ticking closer to zero.

When you live with the mentality of being immortal, until proven otherwise: a lot more becomes a possibility. The world suddenly gets a lot smaller, a lot more manageable, and the people all the less significant. Ageless, it was a curse to many, a curse to any kitsune who lived past their first tail. It was a lonely thing, and it was the reason why most of his kind settled within a clan of their own kind. Why as nature they were a lot more evenly tempered.

Sadly, that were never the case for Hisoka.

He never knew more than a scant few of his own breed. Outliers the all of them, savage and ruthless and jaded by all those years, all those memories of love and life shattered to time. Time killed plently, but it didn't kill animals as much as other animals did. They were killers, the all of them: and this was Hisoka's dedication.

To find a worthy kill, find something to hunt down ruthlessly and savagely sink his fangs into. Devour and taste the tart iron wrought by his own violence. It was why he didn't search for his own kind- and hide amung the even tempered folk of his ilk. It was why he was here in a peaceful clan, stalking the shadows of a hollow border and gold coined eyes turning up to meet-

ah, someone new then? Something like pleasure curled in his chest as he watched the other. For a moment enjoying their kindness before the drilling boredom could kick in. Such unpleasantness was to be pushed aside; and even if this creature were to die, at least Hisoka would know the name to which identify the body. "Rosemary, like the herb, correct?" It was bitter, if he remembered; but even omnivorous: Hisoka always preferred his food bleeding. Plants never did much for his entertainment.

"The name's Sakasu." The kitsune who purred out with candy sweetness. The large, almost horse-size fox cooed towards them. They settled down into a laying position, getting comfortable and appearing all the more approachable. "It's nice to meet you, small creature" The roll of the term from Hisoka's fanged maw oozed a non-challenge. It were his actions, the narrowed focus interest that underlined each word uttered.

he wondered if this one was worth remembering.