a sigh of touch for [ ekanjeet sahni the shaded smokes ]. ... ft. @skyazaleas // a high-end restaurant // 19:21. [ tw. human experimentation, alcohol, cruelty ]
this is a synagogue towards the evening: they are playing eulogies in secrecies, the captive thoughts of relinquishing mortality an idea to toy around. tied around their fingers, the filaments of innovative development that might have caught sophos’ attention, albeit remote. he might not be the most ardent audience for the concept of prolonging his lifespan, but the fact that this notion is an entertaining one, rupturing what others might be able to fathom… now that, sophos wants in. perhaps in a few decades from now, he has the world under his feet, so that might come in handy. a potential that intrigues, its blooming petals a break in the ennui that commonly rivets within. and so, this is why he’s seated across this man this fine night, the fancy dining setting a common complacency for the persona that he dons.
the impressions that he often emanates are that of privileged man, moonflower until stated otherwise. after all, amidst many ahn’s out there, he’s one of the more prominent ones located in the heart of the said sect. and he’s not one to flagrantly wear his position as the boss of the triste unless it is vital for the other party to know that very fact. the core of his misconception lies in the façade of an innocent wealthy man, cleaved in the crux of the riches, ignorant in nature. intelligent, informed. he might as well have different skins for different occasions. ekanjeet’s presence is definitely not an exception, but he relishes in the meetings, typically. their discussions are not exactly… typical. arduous exchanges bore sophos, for sure. and then, in this scenic apostrophe, where the world revolves around none of them, he finds solace. they’re just in a discussion, their vip booth not entirely isolated. after all, to craft deceits, only the fools would reveal their intents in the first place.
the cloak of crowd saves them, removing any suspicions. he takes another bite of his steak as his eyes slide to the expensive, half-emptied bottle of his favourite aged wine. there’s a shrug. “i suppose not everyone is opposed to the idea that to bring immortality to the table, some sacrifices must be made,” he says after finishing swallowing his meat. “what say you to that statement?” a test, commonly placed as he takes his turn to pour more wine into ekanjeet’s glass, then his own.