The night was still in the graveyard. Even the stars seemed to be hiding their shining faces. Did the gods hate Itzcoatl that much? Maybe. Hard to say, really, but he wouldn't blame them if they did. Actually, he'd find it damn hillarious. If someone was killing his children - and he was anyone other than himself - he'd be pretty damned pissed off too, especially if they killed the way he was known to kill. What could he say? What fun was murder if you didn't get creative with it. Nothing like having a little fat man squeal in fear.

The bright red of his dress shirt was a stark contrast to his person. It was the only thing that didn't blend in with the shadows, like a smear of crimson paint that the gods had decided to add to their black canvas. The only light besides the far off orange glow of the streetlights was an equally orange glow from the cigarette he smoked. He took a drag while leaning against a cracked angel weeping over some pathetic little kid that had died from cancer. He stood there like he had all the time in the world to do whatever the hell it was that he wanted to do.

So, the new management in town wanted to see him, did she? Couldn't say he was surprised. Arrogant, but true: he was the best damn assassin the Ishak had on their imaginary tether. He worked for the Ishak and only the Ishak, leader be damned. He'd worked for Anton, and now he'd work for this chit, whoever the hell she might be. He'd respect her if she warranted it. She could kill him, torture him, whatever her little mind desired, and he wouldn't budge. If she was weak, he'd go somewhere where he didn't have to listen to bullshit. If she wasn't, she'd have his undivided attention.

Taking one last drag, he flicked his cigarette and mashed it into the ground. Pushing some stray locks out of his face where they'd fallen out of his braid, he walked forward, like a man confident of who he was... If that man was the Devil. In tight leather pants, combat boots, and a bright crimson dress shirt that hung loose, he certainly looked delicious, and he knew it. He also looked dangerous, and he knew that too.

Walking into the crypt, he walked in that way he had. It was a way that said, "I'm beautiful to look at, but you touch me, and I'll tear out your fuckin' throat and lick my fingers". It was the same look that panthers got. They were beautiful, and you wanted to run your fingers through their hair, but you got close enough and you were dead in a painful way. Anybody who had eyes could see this. He walked with the confident gait of a rockstar, smirking as he passed someone. Whoever it was averted their eyes and scurried away. Not out of fear, perhaps, but because you couldn't get that look from Itzcoatl and feel safe, even in the Ishak crypt. Some kid had spilt coffee on him once. He'd taken the guy's head.

He came to the Coven Leader's door, and knocked. It was a loud knock, and sounded almost jovial, like there was someone friendly on the other side. Itzcoatl didn't wait for an answer before going in, his silver earing jingling as he did so.

Kie-Linque lay against some pillows that were piled in the corner of the dark room on a carpet of navy with silver coloured thread running through the weave. Had the pillows not been present, one would have seen a depiction of entwining cobras created from the silver threads. In the center of the room, also on a carpet, though this was one of deep black, stood a low table of a deep red wood. It had intricate carvings of demons running along the smooth edges of the aging wood, spiraling down the table's short legs. On the smooth face of the table sat a single candle of a deep purple colour, the room's only source of light.

Kie stared in front of her, images of a great palace lay in front of her delusioned eyes. The sudden knocking had startled Kie from her visions, her pupils focusing on the candle that fought the circling darkness. She snarled at the shadows that touched her gray skin as she adjusted to her surroundings. Kie had been day dreaming again. That palace was often in her dreams, sometimes standing majestically in the moon light, other times it was illuminated by a scorching fire. Kie snarled again, trying to get the images out of her head. She had no idea where they had come from nor how they had gotten into her mind's eye. Hearing a second knock she looked towards the door. Kie changed her snarl to a more neutral expression as she stood up, bare feet pressing against the carpet threads.

Kie enjoyed the feel of the black silks she wore against her skin. She wore long black pantaloons that hung from her hips and another peice of material came around her neck and crossed over her breasts tying behind her back, the extra fabric reaching the nape of her spine. Beyond a minimal amount of embroidery, there was little that stood out about her garb. It was however, of fine quality and accentuated her figure. The only other clothing she wore was a piece of cloth that came over her nose, covering her mouth and resting against her collarbone. Kie felt like a gray death demon.

She took two steps toward the door and paused. Kie-Linque's voice rang out clear through the shadows and the pale candle light. "Enter."

If Kei-Linque was a grey death demon, one had to wonder what Itzcoatl was. Dressed in tight black pants, with a bright crimson shirt, he looked like desire personified this evening. His nose was perhaps a tad too broad, his lips too wide, his jaw too squared, but that didn't seem to ditract from the overall image he presented. Had he dressed this way simply for the new Ishak coven leader? Hard to say. What wasn't hard to say was that he looked extremely edible this evening.

Those dark eyes of his looked up and down his new leader in a way that didn't exactly show respect. They darkened, if that were possible, so that they looked like pools of ink drinking in the sight of her. Did he desire her? He wasn't sure yet, but even if she did turn out to be the Queen of Bullshit, at least she had the good looks going for her. On his face was a halfsmile, and he wondered if she could read his thoughts. She was certainly an ancient, and could kill him or inflict terrible pain. He had to forcibly stop himself from licking his lips at the thought of it.

Walking with that oh so confident stride of his, he sat down in a chair. Actually, plopped down was more like it. He'd done the same thing a thousand times with Anton. Anton was gone, the other chairs were gone, yet he remained, and so did his habits. "So," he said, pulling out his cigarettes from his shirt pocket, "you're the new queen bee of the Ishak, huh? Well, at least you're beautiful. If you were ugly, there might've been problems." Blunt? Yes. Insolent? Maybe, but he'd offered her a compliment too. See? He was a nice guy.

Stuffing a cigarette in his mouth, he lit it and moved to put it away before stopping himself. He held out the pack. "You want one, darlin'?"

Kie admired the man in front of her. He was a fine specimen with delightful eyes. She admired Itzcoatl's form through his clothing. The man was physically pleasing to her eyes. His confident almost commanding tone was also appealing to the Ishak leader. She could submit to him in the bed...at least it would be less than a chore. The man was not present, however for her pleasure...not in that sense anyway.

Kie-Linque stepped toward the man, not bothering to hide her examination of him. Abruptly, she switched direction to kneel on a pillow at the low table, a few feet away from Itzcoatl's chair, her veil sliding against her collarbone. Kie-Linque's back was straight and her eyes curious, as she peered through the dim light of the candle.

"You know why I have summoned you?" Kie-Linque looked up at the larger man, currently sitting. The man knew exactly why she had requested his presence. She had heard rumours floating around the coven of this man's work and though the fool who had run things before, providing that was not giving him to much credit, seemed illiterate, she had found the occasional paper with his name enscribed upon it. This man's reputation alone was a credit to Ishak. If he had simply been a figment of the Ishak's imagination, meant to scare other vampires, he would be adored by the coven...but he was not simply a figment and if his person and mind were half so decent as his reputation, the man could be of use...and she might be willing even to barter if it meant the best of his services.

"Could I provide some refreshments for you? It is only the beginning of the evening...I don't suppose you've fed already?" Fresh blood was almost always a welcome subject.

To say that Itzcoatl was hard pressed not to say ‘Duh’ was an understatement, a huge one. He’d never been one to follow any orders save his own, and seemed to rebel against authority for the simple reason that… he thought himself better than everyone else. Arrogance in its purest form. Therefore, any person that he had to listen to usually got dealt with by using sarcasm, or just plain mocking. There were exceptions to the rule, of course, but that’s generally how things seemed to play out. Someone gave him an order and he told them to shove that order up their ass.

Life was terribly simple when you didn’t fear pain or death or blackmail.

Instead of saying some sardonic reply, however, Itzcoatl said instead, “You could say I have a pretty good idea.”

Which was true. Everyone who was anyone in the Ishak probably knew why she had summoned him. He was the best damn asset this coven had in Demaitre. You wanted someone dead? Take it to Itzcoatl! The man is fucking crazy! He’d kill anything! True, true, true. He supposed he was crazy. As far as he knew, so-called normal people weren’t supposed to behave like he did. Well then, he was crazy. What fun was there in being sane anyways? Where had being normal gotten him? Nowhere, that’s where. All his normal family members were dead and forgotten, yet he was still around, kicking and all that.

He considered her offer. He’d actually just come from a rich woman’s house in the suburbs of Demaitre. Quite a lovely young woman, and an amazing pianist. She’d played for him in that lovely navy velvet dress of hers, as he’d brushed her hair… before ripping out her neck. If he’d had a camera, he’d have taken a picture. There was something so… compelling about blood on the keys of a piano. He’d have had it developed, and maybe sent it to a gallery. What with all that fake blood running around, nobody would know it was real unless they saw the news.

“No, thanks,” he said, grinning. “I’ve already eaten.”

(ooc: Sorry this took so long Naf...I'm in the middle of exams)

Kie-Linque nodded as her guest answered. To each their own. It was time to get down to business anyway. Kie stared straight into the candlelight, feeling her retina sting softly. She had many things she wanted to know...many questions that she could ask Itzcoatl, about what had occurred within this district of her covens. Kie-Linque had a strong feeling that she ran things differently than her predecessor. Though that may not necessarily be true.

Kie made an effort to stay seated on the carpet. She felt as though she should be doing something other than making polite conversation to her fellow killers. That urge was common however....what did one expect of a woman who was half mad? Not that Kie-Linque herself would see it that way.

Kie slid her tongue across her left canine, a malicious twinkle coming into her eyes. "I would perhaps like to see these skills of yours that many in our coven covet. I am told that Anton, my predecessor, valued you as an employee...but I must know...do your loyalties lie with the Ishak, or its leaders?” The correct answer to this was the former. What use was a leader with no one to follow? How strong could a leader be without a strong coven behind her? Without a coven, a vampire was alone, like those silly independents. Even vampires as powerful as Kie-Linque and Itzcoatl could reap the benefits of a group. The weak became stronger and the strong...not only became stronger but did not have to settle for menial ways of living.

Kie had a strong sense of tactics, though she was unaware of how it came to be. She simply knew and understood ideas and concepts that came to her mind. Kie-Linque had little time for many of them...most of them were either around and perfected or useless to all but mundanes and mortals, but she understood their value in other concepts.

If she decided to keep this man, dashing and dangerous as he was, employed by her...and better her then any other Ishak or covens...it was customary to give a gift for both good services and initiation. If the man met her expectations...Kie had just the thing in mind. For now, Kie-Linque could do little else but stare with a faint admiration to Itzcoatl's features.

Itzcoatl had always had a problem with authority. Even as a measly little human brat, he’d spoken out against his father. The man had been a retard, in any case. So had his mother, his brothers, his sister, his village… the whole fucking lot of them. Even the High Priest. Sure, he cut out the hearts, but the old man had never seemed to grasp the absolute power that he’d held… but Itzcoatl had known. Itzcoatl had known from the second he’d seen that crimson waterfall wash over the stairs. He’d known when he’d taken a knife and cut his forearm to suck his own sweet nectar. He’d known when he’d killed his first man on the battlefield, his enemy looking at him with wide eyes, the smell of excrement as he died, and the sharp pleasure (or pain, not that there was really a difference) as he’d pulled that damned spear from his side. There were few things he was loyal to, and right now, the woman in front of him wasn’t one of them.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t become one, but loyalty was all a matter of perception. He figured he’d been loyal to Anton, and he figured that Anton had thought he was loyal, but Anton was gone and this lovely, lithe thing was now the head cheese in these here parts. Well, damn. If he’d known he’d get something so interesting, he’d have killed Anton himself. A faint smirk played on his lips around the telltale cigarette that hung loosely. Those dark eyes raked once again over her form. Anton had been pretty, but damn if there was nothing that compared to a woman’s body. Even when the limbs were sliced off and left to rot on the ground… decomposition was still far, far prettier. Itzcoatl had watched.

The smirk widened. “You can see anything you like,” he said, leaning back in his chair. There was no small amount of innuendo in his voice. For all his sadism, Itzcoatl had been called a sex god more than once. A chuckle escaped him, and he sucked hard on his smoke, before releasing a small storm of gray. “As for the answer to your question… You know, that would make many other coven members sweat bullets. My answer is simple: I am loyal to the Ishak. You could end up assassinated, dead and gone, but I’d still be sitting here, in this chair, in front of the new bastard that walked in. I ain’t going anywhere.”

Fearing death got you nowhere. Fearing pain got you less. Itzcoatl feared neither of these, and it often showed when he talked to others. He’d end up dead when he’d end up dead. Until then, best be himself. What the fuck did he care what other people thought? If Kei-Linque chose to kill him right here and now, well, he wouldn’t be that pleased about it – he’d planned to absolutely slaughter a family tomorrow – but there wouldn’t be much he could do about it. If she killed him for speaking his mind, the woman would forever go down in the books as the biggest bitch who ever lived.

Well, better than the biggest slut, he supposed. Or the biggest coward.

The bastard pleased her. He had the correct answers so far and was willing to show his dominance in the coven. He appreciated Kie's position and authority. Perhaps appreciated was stretching, perhaps not. This man could have easily ended up in high authority of ancient times. Could even be king if he chose so far. Kie guessed that Itzcoatl might never truly enjoy being the figurehead though. It looked as though he enjoyed being personal with his victims, drawing out the process of creating a painful death. Being a figurehead took away that closeness to victims and filled one's time with mundane activities. Something Kie did her best to change regardless of her position.

"I am not other coven members, Itzcoatl. If I were other coven members, you and I would not be partaking in this discussion. If I were other coven members, I would not be asking these questions. I am Kie-Linque Callaiffe and it is my responsibility to ask these questions. It is nothing for me to fear, for if you take offense to my questions, you'll only be asked again later...if you truly serve the Ishak. Another leader will take my place and they will ask after your interests or be caught up in cowardice. Cowards should not be leaders. Especially of a coven such as ours." Kie paused a moment, a glint coming into her eye that could be mistaken as playful, "Besides, if you were to make me sweat, it would not be from questions."

Desire did swim within her, especially with an aggressive and dominant male so close to her, but she would attempt a professional attitude for at least few moments more. That playful glint was actually an aphrodisiaced glaze and she enjoyed having a man believe he controlled her, until they left the bedroom, or the office, or wherever the hell they had fucked.

"You're right, I could end up assassinated...but seeing that Ishak went to pieces for a few weeks without a leader, I'm sure that won't occur until you have someone lined up for the job. So I'm decent enough for a few weeks yet. Besides...I might be able to find some entertainment for you yet." She didn't describe what kind of entertainment, but whether it was someone to kill or fucking Kie against the wall, either was potentially do-able. "Do you agree....or disagree?"