Spirits of the Earth

Sooner or later, he knew he'd have to leave. There was no future here, and worst of all it was boring.

The treasure hunters had been an entertaining meal, as had those who had followed them when the first group didn't return and wasn't heard from. Accidents happened in the desert, after all. It was hardly the safest of places—but the risk could often mean reward, or so Zipartas assumed. Why else would people like that venture into areas unexplored for centuries, abandoned and just as likely to be full of useless dust as they were of traps and slumbering dangers?

From each subsequent cohort of travelers, he'd gleaned more and more information about the world outside. They'd come from some city named Essyrn, which Zipartas had never heard of before—things had certainly changed since he'd last been aware of anything beyond his own slow, wicked dreams. The last time he'd been awake, Ahkamat had still been an oasis with its own tiny city and a cult all his own. One that he had gambled on, expecting when he awoke to find a larger civilization that would answer to his beck and call. An experiment of sorts to see how long his influence would last.

But apparently the oasis had dried up long ago and the cultists with it, all being buried beneath the sand until all that was left were ancient, dusty ruins just waiting for treasure hunters to stumble upon them.

Treasure hunters that had thought they'd gotten lucky until they roused him.

Zipartas hadn't killed and eaten them only because he was ravenously hungry after his long slumber. In part, it was principle; they had desecrated a place once devoted to him, seeking to plunder relics that had been created in his honor and left as offerings to his "tomb". No matter that it might be centuries—even millennia—later, those things still belonged to him, as surely as the cultists still would have if they had yet been alive and thriving in this place. But beneath so much sand and choked out by darkness and the alternating ravages of heat and cold, not much else lived there beyond the beetles and snakes.

But as entertaining and as tasty as those mortals had been, they could only tell him so much. So once he'd finished the last of them off, Zipartas had waited—curious to see if any others would make themselves known. In the meantime, he'd entertained himself by wandering among the ruins, picking through the detritus of the people that had once been devoted to him with the kind of care no one else, even a historian, would have given them. Some items he even elected to keep – ones made of gold or other precious metals that had withstood the test of time and still seemed like worthy offerings; even after all this time, they still appealed to his sense of ego.

Eventually, though, he knew explorers would stop coming. Mortals as a rule might be rather stupid, but even they had a sense of self-preservation—and if too many of their number didn't return from this place, it would be judged too dangerous to further explore. He'd thought things might be getting a bit more interesting when a powerful cleric showed up to investigate... but ultimately, even that had been a disappointment. They'd entertained and then fed him just like the others.

At least their clothes had been fine, regardless of their practicality for traveling. Zipartas had been careful not to stain them with blood or any other fluids, and set them aside with the rest of the small amount he'd collected for eventual traveling. Some of it he might not strictly need, but it would serve as good camouflage if he came across another oasis settlement and wanted to earn their trust before having whatever fun he might with them.

The fact of the matter was, though, that he had no desire to stay in this dark, dusty ruin for much longer. And by the time he caught another new scent, his patience had almost completely run out.

There was nothing wrong with having another meal for the road, however.

Long claws scraping against the sandstone in the dark, Zipartas stalked out of the chamber that had once been his resting place and scaled the remaining husk of a nearby building that still stood within the massive cavern that held what was once Ahkamat. His eyes did not quite gleam in the darkness, and he was content to watch for a moment to see just what sort of newcomer this was.

Maybe they would be interesting.

 She had only been summoned to this plane a handful of times. Usually it was because some manner of terrible beast had been unleashed, and it was beyond the capacity of those mortals in the fae court's care to take care of it. The Court she belonged to was small, but doted on the mortals who left them small offerings in candle shit shrines, in wild gardens in the desert, or around their homes. Though there were not many, it was still important to Bytta and those in the Court that they respond when such a summons was made. They thought of the mortals as an extension of family, and in turn would do their best to protect them.

The fae didn't have to, but she delighted in helping. In providing support and help where they had found none. It was a drive and desire in Bytta she'd had since the realm had birthed her and she'd joined the Enchantress Court. She'd found her calling in the sweet, harmonious relationship they had established with the mortal realm and she loved some as brothers and sisters as much as her fae counterparts.

Her entire life had been geared toward the arcane art of protecting, warding, and enchanting would-be monsters. Banishing them to whatever realm they'd come from or putting them back to their deep rest. Sometimes she had to reactive a ward or seal, trapping them in some manner of crypt or tomb. It wasn't the best solution to such a thing, but when nothing else worked... a slumbering prison was better than allowing a great evil to roam the land.

For that very reason, Bytta had been summoned and she had crossed the desert. Extremes in the natural world didn't bother the fae as much as it might another, but the heat of the sun overhead was still oppressive. She'd dressed in cloth veils so the light wouldn't burn her honey-brown skin. Directions weren't needed - she could feel the pulse of something old and mean and monstrous in the desert. For that very reason, she had decided to go alone. It would mean a little longer journey, but she hadn't wanted to risk anyone else tagging along. No matter how much they'd wanted to.

A three day walk in desert extremes didn't sour her to the mission. With a small pack of provisions, slender poles and light canvas to set up a shelter, she'd had everything she needed to make the crossing. Ideally, once this monster was either laid to rest or banished to whatever realm it had been summoned from, she would return to the Court for some much needed rest.
The ruins appeared to have been unearthed by a sand storm. Angular building cutting out of the dunes, worn down some but enough remaining to tell her this had been a city. Not a vast one, as Essyrn was, though she could not know how much more lay beneath the sands. She didn't particularly care, either.

The excavated hole was still, largely, clear. It led into the largest of the revealed buildings, where part of the wall had been smashed in so the initial treasure hunters could get inside. The light of the evening cut into the dark and gloom, but only just. Since Bytta didn't know if she was dealing with an intelligent monster - though she assumed - she knelt and crafted a glowing, white ward on the entrance. The monster would not leave while she hunted for it.

Now that she was at the ruins, Bytta shrugged her pack off her shoulders and out of the traveling veils. The fae didn't want to be encumbered if quick movements were necessary. Until the monster was actually bound, she was still vulnerable. A fae born of the day, Bytta herself was faintly luminous and required no light as she moved into the dark. A candle's worth of light was produced by her very presence in the dark - though it was a soft, bio luminescent blue and white. Her feet barely touched the ground or made a sound as she moved, careful and slow while she pressed on into the ruins. 

The monster couldn't hide from her. She sensed it, could roughly feel how close it was, which meant she could prepare in advance for its arrival. Before it crept too close, she knelt and wrote more glowing, sharp runes in the ground at her feet in a circle of protection. She finished just as she heard the screech of claws on stone, announcing its arrival. Her cat-like pink eyes, while not able to see in the dark, could still make out the faint shape of it from the shadows her own light cast. "Come out, come out," she cooed under her breath. Bytta needed to know the measure of the monster before she could begin either a banishment or entrapment. Whichever would depend on what she was dealing with. 

Whatever and whoever this new arrival was, they smelled different. Not as unique as he was, perhaps—since very few things were—but certainly not human. And not of the same ilk that had wandered into the ruins of Ahkamat previously. There was something sweeter there, and older. Not as mortal as the fragile lives that he'd been accustomed to taking since he awoke. So perhaps, in that, there was the potential for some fun. Someone who could withstand some rougher treatment before they eventually succumbed and he got bored of them.

When she made herself known and stepped properly into the dark maw of the ruins, Zipartas didn't bother to move:  taking it for granted that she wouldn't be able to sense him where he was. Surely she had to know that something was there, but nothing seemed to indicate she knew his exact location.

Though it was quite interesting that she cast her own light. Was it a spell or an innate ability? If the latter, would her flesh still carry that power when he carved it off of her? Consuming that light appealed to him in a hungry way.

He'd felt the twinge of nearby magic before she'd really entered the space, but hadn't known it well enough to identify what it was. Even now, as he observed her etch glowing runes into the sandstone of the floor, the exact flavor of it eluded him. But judging by the circle she'd drawn around herself and the fact that she did not move from it, he could guess what it was. Protection and warding spells always seemed to have a certain consistency to them regardless of what plane he was on or who was casting them.

Always the lesser creatures with wanting to keep things out. So rarely did they realize that they also trapped themselves in.

It amused him even more when her sweet voice carried to his sensitive ears. Her words had only been a whisper, the barest of breaths to scarcely even stir the fine sand that still occasionally trickled in through cracks from above, creating little mounds on the floor to cover the stains of blood and other viscera that had already dried since his last meals. But who was he to deny her when she made such a naïve request?

So Zipartas skulked forward, gaunt limbs unfolding to unnatural proportions as he rose from his still crouch and slid quietly down the front of the building he'd been perched on. The light from the woman was soft, and he stayed at the edge of it, studying her with the quirk of an almost humanoid smile that didn't quite spread too wide or reveal his teeth. "Well, well, well," he purred, adopting one of the more common languages that had been shared by those he'd eaten. "And who are you?" In the dark, the bladed length of his tail slithered over the floor, tip clicking against the stone as it flicked in curiosity.

It was probably arrogance that she faced the monster with no fear. It never once occurred to Bytta that she would meet something on the prime plane that would be able to face her, and beat her. If anything, there was a sense of calm pity she had for such monsters. They were hapless creatures without direction, monsters without purpose, and she would put them in their place. Send them back to the void that birthed them or lay them to rest so they wouldn't bother anyone anymore.
That being said, this particular monster didn't scare her either. While she had not been doing this long, she had seen monsters of various shapes and sizes. Creatures with teeth longer than her fingers or several times larger than herself. Size didn't matter to her and such teeth would never touch her.

Instead, her brilliant pink eyes studied it as it approached. Trying to figure out if it was from this realm, and so much be put back to sleep, or if it was a demon or devil that needed banished. There wasn't a sense of cinders or char about it, that special flavor that felt of the abyss or the hells... That didn't mean it wasn't a summoned monster that she could banish, either. 
It spoke, though, which indicated some manner of intelligence. "I am Bytta, and I am here to rid this place of you." Her confidence was pristine, and pure. Her voice did not waiver because she was utterly certain in what she would do. "Who, and what, are you?"

It never hurt to ask. Often times monsters liked to boast about who they were and would give her exactly what she wanted. 

This woman's coloration was as intriguing to him as her aura. She was a tiny thing, so much smaller than him, and that fact incited even more his predatory nature. As sweet as her voice was, he pondered for a moment what kind of sounds she was going to make once he had her. It would almost be a shame to eat her, given how pretty she was. But it simply wouldn't be practical to take her with him when he left this place.

And she was polite, if misguided. Her confidence that she was there to banish him did actually prompt a toothy smile then. A decidedly wicked one. "You can all me Zipartas," he told her in amusement. Was she old enough that name would mean anything to her? Probably not. Otherwise she would already have known what to expect in this place.

There was a definite temptation to boast to her about what he was as well, but Zipartas had not survived as long as he had by being careless. If she was trying to probe for information, all the better that he didn't give it to her for free. Even if she would not be able to make good on that knowledge, there were advantages to leaving some things shrouded in mystery. So he ignored the second part of her question, instead moving again after a moment to circle her and the boundary she had drawn, always at the edge of her light. Inspecting her.

"Someone else has already been by to 'get rid of me'," he added with a faint sigh. It was clear they had failed. "I hope you'll at least be able to last a little longer before I eat you."

It really was unfortunate that his name meant nothing to her. Bytta was well versed in the various demons, devils, and monsters that she might encounter, and knowing what he was, or who, would've gone a long way in telling her how to deal with him. On the up side, though, he didn't seem to know who or what she was and thus was not trying to run from her either. Lesser monsters aware of the Enchantress Court fled at the sight of the fae and their white, pristine runes. Knowing that they would become banished or forced into eternal slumber.

In a way, him not knowing kept him in the area. Which was what she wanted. It just made it a little more difficult because she did not know exactly how to go about it, yet. More information would be nice. That he'd ate the other previous was something, though. Some monsters just killed.

Bytta glanced around, looking for remains. What he might've done with them. Still unafraid, she asked, "There is nothing left?" Curious, if anything. Did he eat them whole? All their gear too? That would help classify what sort of monster he was. Especially since the name really did mean nothing to her.

Her question drew a laugh from him, the noise a low rumble that half sounded like a purr. The matter of fact way she'd posed it was certainly something. Maybe she was a bit more powerful, then, if she'd been curious about such a thing rather than simply horrified. "Nothing organic to speak of," he told her with a smirk. After a moment, he gestured to one of the dark stains on the sandstone some distance from her, already partly covered with grains of dust and sand again. "Though there maybe a bit of him left there."

Zipartas was toying with her, of course, but it would tell him more about her depending upon how she reacted.

"I kept some of his things." His green eyes practically glittered as he finished his circuit around her and paused just before her again, but still at something of a distance. "It's not as though he's going to be using them again, hm?"

They would be put to much better use on his behalf.

Bytta didn't turn to keep him in front of her. There was no reason to, at least, not to the fae. Having him at her back didn't concern or worry her. The runes would hold. They glowed around her feet, sharp white lines that cut through the dark. As pure and brilliant as her confidence. Bytta's magic and protection came from her own force of will - if she ever doubted in herself, ever wavered in her assurance in what she could do, the runes would flicker, the wards would be weak, and there would be no point in her being here at all.
Monsters did not scare her.

Bytta nodded a little when he said he'd eaten them, but not their things. The monster was practical. Planning for a future. Smart. Bytta did not think this was something to be banished, but a creature that needed to go back to sleep. Mind made up, her bright pink feline-esque eyes tracked him a moment before she glanced around. As though taking stock and saying good bye. She fully expected this to be over in moments.

The soft words she began to speak were ancient fae, words that hardly any would know but those raised in a Court and trained in the magics there-in. Beti kartzelan lo egingo duzu. Her sing-song voice bounced off the far walls and seemed to fill the space, weighing on his limbs and filling his mind with a fog of sleep. It should have rendered him unconscious, in a prison of sleep until some other hapless mortal woke him once more. It should have weighed him down with an impossible weight, a force that would drag his body to the ground.

It should have.

Zipartas did not think she would be able to affect him, much less banish him as she'd claimed her purpose was—and so he didn't seek to fight her nor to run. There seemed little point when it would be evident to her soon enough that she had bitten off far more than she could chew.

So it was quite a surprise to him when she began chanting and he actually felt... something. This wasn't the idle, petty spells of the last cleric that had been there and intending to fight him. At first, he wasn't even fully aware that it was originating from her at all, which was all the more dangerous and surprising. Like an insidious whisper from his own thoughts, he just felt tired. It seemed as though his limbs had turned too heavy even for him, and his tail ceased flicking in curiosity and amusement to simply thump heavily, once, on the floor. It was too much effort to even move it subconsciously.

He might have yawned, save that the impulse died as he blinked slowly and realized this was a spell. She was trying to make him sluggish, at the very least. So he couldn't fight her? Or more directly send him back to the slumber that he had so recently awoken from?

That did not amuse him.

Zipartas' smile died, and this time when she saw his teeth, it was as he bared them in a low hiss. "You think that's enough to stop me, girl?" Even so, his voice was slower. More deliberate.

Her words echoed in the chamber, carrying the weight of ancient power, the force of her own will, and the weight of the fae plane. It had never failed before. Ever. So it was with some surprise that, when she opened her eyes, he was not only standing - but had addressed her. Bright pink eyes regarded the monster before her while she thought about what she could do, now. There was no panic or fear, because Bytta would deal with this monster. If he would not sleep, then so be it. There was some affect, though. His words were heavy and slower. Gone, too, was the amusement he seemed to have had with her.

Good. Bytta liked to be taken serious when she was quite so.

She crossed her arms while she tried to figure out what she would do then. If he would not sleep, perhaps he was meant to be banished? Instinctively, though, Bytta felt like that wasn't going to work either. While monsters occasionally set themselves up in ruins, the fae believed that he had been here when the ruins were not ruins, that he was old and thus that was complicating her efforts. Which meant, if she could not banish him, and she could not force him to sleep, there was only one other thing she knew to do. It was a method she had never employed herself, and something she'd only heard of one other Enchantress doing. It had eventually cost the fae her life, but in doing so she had also taken the monster with her. A binding to her would keep the monster at bay, from the rest of the world. Though her own life was immortal, should she die, the loss of her own life would be enough power - ideally - to destroy the monster in front of her.

Not that Bytta was keen on dying, of course, and the monster would likely feel such a connection and stop her from offing herself. It was the best course of action to prevent him from rampaging across the desert. The ward at the door would only last so long.

Mind made up, she narrowed her bright pink eyes before she began the binding. "Elkarrekin egongo gara beti. Nirekin hilko zara." It was effort to say, the words grating through her throat and pulling at her chest. As the sing-song sound reverberated in the chamber, a weight fell on her chest and Bytta collapsed in place. The runes around her feet flickered and vanished as her life connected to his, tethering them together until what would ultimately be the end of both of them. If he had any sort of magical training or understanding, he would likely know what the piercing sensation through his own body was. Most bindings were similar in nature - it was just the severity of the one she had just crafted over him was just that. Eternal, final.

If Bytta died, the snuffing of her soul would pull his into the void with her. The sacrifice of her life to keep him contained meant that he could not, in a very base way, hurt her to end it prematurely either. It was the greatest binding she knew and one that, once cast, could not be undone. The wards around her feet weren't necessary anymore.

Braced on her hands and knees, gasping softly from the sharp pain in her chest, in the core of who she was, Bytta didn't bother to look at him. What was done was done and she had fulfilled her purpose. Shackling the monster so it couldn't hurt anyone else.

After the failure of her initial ploy, it didn't take the odd woman long to make up her mind regarding her next move—Bytta, she'd said her name was; he was more concerned with such things now given the way the situation had changed. No longer amused and in a mood to play, he resigned himself to making this quick. It would be unwise to let her linger any more and suss out just what his weaknesses really were rather than simply guessing at them. That she'd been able to affect him with her magic at all was no insignificant thing.

But as soon as the first syllable left her mouth, the only thing he could seem to hold in his head was the sound of those singsong words. Spoken in some language he didn't know, they were nevertheless undeniably magical in nature. Some kind of binding, it had to be—Zipartas could feel the pull of it in the very fabric of his soul. This was no incantation to put him to sleep, to make him docile and easily subdued. This was deeper:  something that even he had to take seriously.

But by then, it was too late. As those glowing runes guttered and died, the only light remaining was the one emanating from Bytta herself. Distantly, with a crushing weight in his chest as though something had reached in and seized his long-dead heart, Zipartas saw her crumble to her hands and knees. Even he wasn't able to keep his feet, sinking to one knee and hardly realizing that he had as sharp, hot lances of pain shot through the entirety of him.

Not in a physical sense, though that might be how his nerves were forced to interpret it. But this was a pain of the soul, of two things that were never meant to be bound now being stitched together by Bytta's magic.

He had felt bindings before—felt them prick at him and then slide off when he deflected them or they faltered, even the way that they would shatter and fall like so many matchsticks when he broke free of them. But this... was different. A girder on everything that he was, and it was startling to realize that it was requiring so much effort to maintain the shape that he preferred. The one that he had worn since he'd woken up.

Slowly, black chitin gave way only to pale skin. His claws reverted to long but human fingers and toes. The only sharp teeth that remained in his mouth were dully humanoid ones, save for his keener than normal canines. The balancing weight of his tail vanished, and Zipartas was thankful in a vague way that he was already kneeling on the stone. It would at least keep him from pitching forward.

He looked down once at deft, thin hands he hadn't seen in centuries, and then turned all the force of his baleful glare on her. It only angered him further that he was still half breathless, but returning to his original form meant there was less magical strain on his body from fighting this damnable woman's will.

"What. Did. You. Do." It was not phrased as a question, but he wanted to hear it from her own mouth. Was she aware of the full gravity of what she had done?

It was the sort of pain that one generally never expected to experience. There was no flesh wound, nothing to mend, but it had felt like she'd been stabbed through the heart and a weight dropped on her lungs. Bytta could breath and she knew, despite her brain's insistence to the contrary, that her heart beat just fine and there was no dagger through her chest. Soul bindings were meant to be painful. Meant to be...  well, rare. But the fae did not second guess her decision. A banishing would not have suited if a sleep enchantment had failed so.

If this was what it took to keep her people safe, she would do it.

After a long moment of catching her breath and orientating herself in the world, of convincing her chest that it was not going to burst open, she glanced at the now... more human... monster. Apparently the form it had before had been just that. A form. Her supposition that he - at least it looked like a he - was from this realm seemed correct. Just old. Possibly immortal, like the fae.  The anger and indignation in those sharp green eyes also let her know that he had some inkling as to what she'd done.

Even better. It meant less explaining on her end.

Shifting to sit where she had collapsed, Bytta adjusted her legs under her in a comfortable fashion. A teacher assuming a comfortable pose to better instruct their student. "I don't know who you are, or what time you are from, but you obviously pose some manner of serious threat to the people here. I have prevented that, as I was summoned to do so." Figuring that proper introductions were now in order, all things considering, she added while her feline pink eyes easily met his own. "I am Bytta, a fae of the Enchantress Court. You are now bound to me, until the day I die and invariably take you into the void that is death with me."

Simple. Concise. Maybe a little smug. There was no reason to be so business-like now. The wards and the stark confidence needed to bark them up were unnecessary. The binding was done and there was nothing she need do to maintain it. It a way, she could relax. If only because they had for however long to be together.

Bytta didn't explain that he couldn't hurt her. He would figure that out on her own. Perhaps she hadn't because there was some small, wicked part of her that would delight in that inevitable frustration.

He waited and watched her with oh so much venom. It had been a long time since Zipartas had felt anything like hatred. Most of the time, people were far enough beneath his notice that while he might find them annoying, it rarely extended further than that. There was just no point in expending energy on despising things that were scarcely smart enough to understand why he might dislike them. But this woman... oh, this woman had brought all of that to the forefront again. If it weren't for the situation itself, it would be fascinating to him to feel something so strongly again for the first time in a long while.

But the sheer disdain and cold rage he felt drowned out any objective stance he might have had. And along with it came poisonous waves of spite. How dare she! Binding her soul to his in this way—it was the worst affront she could possibly have committed against him. What made her think she could control him even with such a bond? She had only signed her death warrant.

He was arrogant enough to think he could withstand even the threat she had made, that she would pull him into the void when she went. Zipartas had already died once, a long time ago, and it had been more of a boon than an inconvenience, in the end.

All soft purr was gone from his voice, and it came out in a rasp that spoke of a hatred so deep there were no words to describe it. "You," he told her, enunciating so very clearly to make sure she heard him properly, "are going to regret that."

Zipartas launched himself at her then, no matter that he was in a human shape and naked before her. Neither of those things mattered. He was still strong, and still fast, and he was going to rip out her throat with his own teeth and crack open her ribcage to eat what lay beneath.

What caught her off guard more than anything was how damned fast he was. Bytta was fast. Inhumanly so, but he was faster than she was. Across the gap that separated them in the span between breaths and over her before she would've had a chance to respond. Forced flat on her back from the sheer rush of him to her. Were it not for the binding, there was no doubt in the fae's mind he would have killed her. Consumed her as he would have all the others he had before, just as he had threatened to do. But his ill intent and desire to maim tipped his hand and reigned him in. The binding choked him back like an invisible leash wrapped around his throat and torso; he made it over her, on her, not quite touching her, but he could not bite and he could not rend. He couldn't lay a forceful hand on her.

Her bright pink eyes were wide as he was essentially hovering over her, millimeters from touching her, but held back by the very enchantment that she'd cast moments before. Safe from the monster she'd caught in her web. Bytta wasn't aware she'd held her breath until, realizing he could not touch her and the binding held, she let it out softly. "As I said," she murmured in the space between them, watching his sharp gaze, meeting it without fear, "You are bound to me. You cannot hurt me." The fae let that hang between them. Let that really sink in. Then, knowing she had his full, express attention, she leaned up just a little. Closing the span between them so they were almost touching. So her breath ghosted over him as she whispered, "And when I die, you will be consumed in a black void of nothing. Destroyed."

He hadn't thought he could be angrier or hate her more than he did in those first few moments. But when he lunged at her and never connected, Zipartas knew immediately that he had been mistaken.

So close. He could feel the warmth of her skin with how near it was to his own, a contrast to his own coldness. But the magic wrapped around him like tangling vines, not painful per se but distinctly unpleasant and snaring him where he was—stopping him before he could touch her. No matter how he fought them, eyes bright and almost feverish in his anger, he could get no closer. It would have felt as though a warded barrier had popped up between them, save that he could almost feel the way her binding tightened like a noose around his neck, almost choking him.

Straining against it, he tried to close that distance. Burned with the need of getting ahold of her and venting all of the deadly intent inside of him. Bytta had even been knocked onto her back below him, and he was in the perfect position to use her how he wanted. To eat her and violate her and make her suffer for what she had done.

But if he'd thought the weight of keeping his other form had been too much to sustain, this was even worse. There was nothing so frustrating as being a mere hairs breadth from what he wanted and still being denied.

Even more so when Bytta released a breath at length and met the full force of his attention without fear, confirming what had already been proven. He couldn't touch her.

Oh, how he wanted to wrap his hands around her throat when she leaned up and murmured to him in that mocking away.

Instead, he slid to his feet, no doubt giving her a full view of him as he did so, unadorned save for the piercings on his cock. The immediate shift of the magic was enough even to startle him, as suddenly those tendrils were gone and he could move. Turning, he crossed to the corner of the nearest building and ripped a heavy stone from its wall, making the already gaping hole in it yawn even wider as it crumbled. It enraged him all the more to feel soft, fleshy fingers against the stone rather than claws.

It was heavy, but he hefted it with ease and threw it at her. Hard.

Bytta sat up more so when he finally moved away from her. Confidence bloomed in her chest and fueled a sort of fearlessness in a situation where most would have been cowed. She was a fae meant to face down monsters and, now that he was collared and contained, she would not show any fear. Surprise, sure. But Bytta was not, and would not, be afraid of him. If anything, she was rather proud of herself for doing as she had. Even if it was at the expense of her own eternal life, he had been thoroughly thwarted.  He would be nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum from here on out.

Not to say she took her bright pink gaze from him though.

He was quite taller than she was, but most were. The fae didn't look away from his sharp green gaze, taking a measure of his spite and hatred for her, then tracked his movements. When it became apparent what he was doing, she scowled prettily and slid to her feet. He might be faster than she was, but he could not throw something faster than she could move. Flitting as though she were a pixie with wings, Bytta moved out of the way. He might have been able to throw faster, but his movements were made slower and sluggish because he was aiming to hurt her. The binding was stifling even that indirect action, enabling her to move out of the way.

Rather than goad him further, she simply waited to see if he would persist in his actions. Bytta was extremely light of her feet and seemed to almost hover in place, watching and waiting.

He'd felt unfettered up until it had really solidified in his mind that he was going to throw the stone right at her head. Zipartas could tell, then, that the magic was working on him again, dragging at his arms and making him slow. When she darted easily out of the way, he hissed at her and tried another tack.

This time he reached out with his own magic again to gather power around him, meaning to hone all of his intent into something that he could launch at her in a more abstract way, infecting her with that magic's touch and using it to tear her apart from within, to make her pretty voice lift in a scream of agony that he so wanted to hear. But though he could feel the swirl of power just beyond, it dissipated as quickly as it had started to coalesce, doing nothing more than ruffle some of his dark hair as though by a phantom breeze.

Zipartas drew in a very long breath that he didn't need then, eyes slipping closed as he stood a moment and got a handle on himself. Acting like a caged animal or an impetuous child was going to get him nowhere. Whatever the solution to this might ultimately be—and he felt confident there had to be one, somewhere—it seemed he would have to be patient.

When he opened his eyes again after a few over-long moments, he eased his hands out of the fists they had become and simply watched her. The storm brewing inside him had been forced to settle with no outlet, and now he just wanted answers rather than physical results. "What do you intend now that you have me?" He hardly suspected that Bytta would want to simply reside in this ruin until the end of time.

In truth, the fae expected the tirade and tantrum to last longer than it did. Hours, maybe. Days? She had yet to get a real measure of who she was dealing with, so she did not relax her scrutiny of him when he seemed to calm and regard her. The question did catch her off guard, if only because that wasn't something she'd really... thought about. Obviously she did not want to stay in the ruin. Not because it bothered her or creeped her out, but because she was still a creature that needed sustenance. Whether or not he did, she wasn't sure. That meant finding someplace remote that she could find food and water. While Bytta was confident that the binding would prevent him from actually hurting her, or anyone else, she didn't need him rampaging around trying or breaking buildings in frustrated rage.

That meant she needed somewhere remote to condition him into complacency. Which could take... well. That could take awhile.

The fae considered all of that in the span of several breaths before she looked around, as though really considering whether or not they should leave, before she gestured at him. "I intend to see you dressed so that we can go elsewhere." It wasn't that he was unpleasant to look at - the dark shadows thrown off by her own light created some nice highlights, but social propriety  should they actually encounter someone dictated that he actually have at least pants on. Then, she'd likely direct them to the nearest oasis that wasn't in the direction of Essyrn. Some place remote where she could figure out her next step while allowing him to adjust to his leash. "I'm sure there is something for you to wear in the things you kept from those you have already killed." It sounded callous and cold coming from her. While Bytta was sad that there had been a loss of life, she was sad in a detached way.

She had not known them and the initial treasure hunters had been the ones to unleash the monster to begin with. Loss of life was always something to be sad about, but the only real thing that had touched her in any personal way was the loss of one of her own - the last person to have lost their life coming to try and stop him - which had resulted in her summons.

At least the woman was practical. Some part of Zipartas had wondered if she would prove petty and spiteful and deny him such a thing as at least dressing. Did she see him more as a thing, an animal? Perhaps not, if she was making such a concession.

That wasn't to say he was shy or demure in the slightest. Zipartas knew he looked appealing—yet another vain thing he prided himself on. But he hardly wanted to cross the desert with nothing on. Immortal he might be, but it would still be uncomfortable. Nevertheless, having her direct him in such a way, even if he had asked the question in the first place, rankled against his temper again.

"Very well," he said, voice clipped and precise, before he simply turned to step into the shell of the 'tomb' that had once housed him. The things he'd collected had been gathered there, and Zipartas didn't much care what Bytta occupied herself with while he dressed. But as he turned his back to her, he could still sense where she was; more than a preternatural sensation of awareness, this was something new. Something created by the binding she had cast upon him.

Detachedly, he wondered if that meant she could sense his whereabouts as well.

The clothes he dressed in were hardly the fine, polished things he would have wanted, but they would do. At least they were more or less the right size. Even so, he fussed with them as he dressed, the lack of appearing as he wanted to just adding insult to injury. And something as mundane as the pack he had filled with things that might be useful... tch. He looked like a common traveler.

When he emerged again, he asked then, "And where do you plan to go?" Odds were the names would mean nothing to him, but it was more the principle of the matter.

Part of her wondered if he'd throw a fit about her suggesting he wear clothes. Not because she thought he didn't want to be dressed, but because he seemed upset she would tell him to do anything. Thankfully, though, that didn't seem to be the case and he eventually turned to do just that. Either because he didn't think it worth fighting over or because even if he did want to argue, he wanted to wear something more. Whatever the reason, Bytta would take it.

While he was gone, she idly brushed herself off and let out a long sigh. Maybe she'd been more tense during the entire confrontation then she'd realized. Taking a moment to stretch, she cast her gaze about once more. Just to make sure this was really it. It wasn't so much that Bytta was expecting another monster to come creeping out of the dark so much as she'd hoped, futilely, that there would be a different solution that would suddenly present itself. Even though the binding was done, and could not be undone. If there was a time to now think about it all, and let it sink it, it was now. She didn't need to be unflinching in her thoughts and actions - nothing he could do would matter. She was safe.

Before any real doubt or she could become upset about the entire thing could creep in, he returned. Much like when she'd entered, Bytta could sense where he was. More so, now that they were linked. A sixth sense let her know how far he was and in what direction. As natural as breathing.

The fae took stock of her new companion, pleased he was fully dressed, before she gestured vaguely. "I have no set place in mind, yet. I had fully intended on returning to Court... I will need to take some time to adjust my course of action. Find a way to alert them as to my..." Bytta cut herself off and looked away from him. The Court would likely mourn her as lost and they'd be right to do so. Her supposed lifespan now would probably be short, either because something or someone would hunt them down or because an accident would kill her. If the monster - Zipartas - kept trying to find a way, he might succeed. That'd be the end of both of them. It was only natural they would hold a Rite for her and celebrate the life she had led up until now.

She passed a hand over her face, taking a moment to compose herself. "Well. Yes. Find some remote oasis to figure out my next step." That was it. That was really all she had. Keep him away from major cities, find some food and water for herself, and figure out the rest as it presented itself.

Good enough.

Zipartas allowed her to finish her reply without interrupting. Her unfinished sentence and glance away was not lost on him, and it did give him a slight sense of satisfaction to see that she did not seem particularly pleased with this situation either. Practical, certainly, but he could guess she'd wanted to be bound to something or someone like him about as much as he had wanted to be connected to her. In that sense, at least she was suffering too.

That was some balm to his pride, if nothing else.

For now, he didn't offer for her to lead. If she was going to demand he do what she wanted, he had no intention of helping her along with that as though they were friends. They most certainly were not. So he remained where he stood when she didn't either.

Sharply though, he did echo, "Court?" Whether she would answer him or not was another matter entirely, but he intended to get as much information from her as he could. At least with her around now, he would have a more reliable way to learn things about the world that he had woken into. It told him something too that she would have to figure out what her next step would be. Clearly this had not been her intention when she'd arrived.

It pleased him too, even if in an off-handed way, to think that she had underestimated him. She might still do that again.

Bytta glanced his way when he inquired about the Court, but she didn't elaborate. Some knew about the different Courts fae held, others didn't. If he didn't, she wasn't going to be one to enlighten him. It the very, very, very unlikely event that her death did not destroy him as well, the less he knew about the fae like her, the better. While she did fully believe that what she had done would likewise be his undoing, Bytta wasn't going to be taking any unnecessary risks. She'd not been taught to be so careless.

So, she turned and gestured for him to follow. Zipartas didn't have to, of course. There was a radius of the Binding, and eventually he would be forced to follow. A leash that would ever tether him to her, so he could not run away and would have to go wherever she went regardless of his desire to do so. Whether or not he learned that lesson now didn't particularly matter to Bytta.

Her steps soft and silent, not even disturbing the sand she moved over, the fae picked her way out of the ruins and toward the entrance that had been excavated to get in. Her things were right where she'd left them and the sun had started to dip below the horizon. Though she could not see in the dark, being a fae born of the day, she didn't exactly need to. Her faint light enabled her to see, should the moon light not be bright enough. Of course, that meant she'd have to leave some part of her exposed to the rapidly cooling desert air. Determined still, she leaned down to pull on the desert wraps she'd traveled in and heft on her pack. It took her a moment to orientate where an oasis might be - her sense of such things thrown off by the constant presence of Zipartas now itching at the back of her mind. Like a headache that didn't hurt, knowing where he was seemed to stifle a lot of her other senses. It didn't make it impossible for her to know where to go, or have her sense of the natural world, it was just... difficult.

After a long moment of looking around and staring off in the distance, Bytta pursed her lips and eventually picked a direction that felt right. Or as right as things were going to feel now that her life was all manner of messy.

Well, if she wasn't going to tell him what she'd meant, he'd simply resolve to learn from someone else. Unless she intended to completely keep him away from anyone else on the plane... that thought soured his mood even further. Were there any truly remote places where no one would go? There were always hidden places on any realm, but he was no longer aware of current events on this one. Whether or not there were spots of wilderness, he didn't know.

Granted, his own 'tomb' had lain undisturbed for a very, very long time.

When she moved out of the ruins, he didn't follow right away. She'd said he was bound to her, and he could feel exactly where she was and how far as she walked off—but that didn't necessarily mean he had to trail after her. Would such a simple loophole be enough to evade her? Even if he couldn't harm Bytta herself, and even if she might always know where he was, he might be able to get enough of a head start that she would spend all of her time chasing him, not near enough to inhibit him any more than she already had.

If nothing else, he still had his analytical mind. And if his long life had taught him anything, it was that nothing was absolute.

So saying nothing, he didn't move either—testing the leash to see how far it might go.

She really didn't expect him to follow right away. Such a thing would have been too easy. Though her hearing was rather good, she didn't really expect to be able to hear him tailing her either. Figuring he might be a little petulant, or petty, she didn't look over her shoulder to see if he was following her either. Instead, she adjusted the wraps on her and simply followed the direction she had decided to follow. He'd really be upset if the leash cut off his access to the door and he had to start digging through the ruins to get to her

Sure enough, Bytta didn't have to move far. The Binding was a dynamic, almost living thing. As though sensing his obstinance, the pull on the leash came pretty quick and rather hard. Much like when he'd been suspended over her, like steel spider silk, there was a painful pull through the nerves of his body. Around his neck, through his spine, down his arms and legs. It wasn't so much he was forced to walk, more that an invisible, searing painful force drug him through the air. He could either allow it to continue, feeling as though invisible razor wire was cutting through his veins, or he could move. As every fiber of his body screamed for him to do. Move or be pulled. Move or he'd collide with the ruins wall. Move or he'd be smashed against brick, and sand, and find out just how insistent and undeniable the Binding really was.

Bytta didn't feel anything and she didn't know the extent of the pain he might feel. All she did know was that the Binding would keep him within a certain radius of her, and from harming anyone as he had been unable to harm her. How it achieved such a result didn't really matter to her, in the end. Better he learn the limits now, early on, so they could establish quickly how they would be dealing with one another.

Even as quickly as the binding had taken over before, Zipartas hadn't expected it to hurt this badly. The one preventing him from hurting her had been distinctly uncomfortable, a choking and throttling sensation that pulled at his spine just as much as his throat. But this was drastically and startlingly different, an agony that sparked through him like a bolt of lightning. It was enough even to pull a shriek from him, a vocalization of mingled rage and pain as he was dragged closer to where Bytta had gone. It was quite clear this binding would pull him through the sand itself if he didn't bend.

Zipartas ended up clawing against the crumbling stone of the ruins, focused for the moment only on getting away from that pain. That it drove him closer to her made him angrier, but he couldn't think with so much overwhelming sensation at once. It had been a long time since anything had harmed him significantly, and this was more painful than just about anything else he'd experienced—comparable only to the first few of some long-ago transformations before he'd become as skilled as he was now in adopting forms unlike his own.

His thoughts only cleared once he was close enough to her that the binding no longer punished him for being at the end of his tether. There was dust and sand on his clothes now, which he scowled at and brushed away with his long fingers. But still he didn't linger as he had previously.

At least he hadn't dropped the things he'd been carrying.

He hurried his steps to eat up some of the distance, moving closer so that the binding wasn't a hot press of agony lurking just at his back, but he didn't move any closer than he absolutely had to—brooding and hating Bytta with every fiber of his being.

Just as when she'd left, while Bytta trekked across the rapidly cooling desert, she didn't pay any mind to her now tethered companion. Her confidence in the Binding she had cast was absolute, as had her confidence been in that she would be able to banish him. Bytta was not a fae of doubts or worries. Things would play out as they would, and she would deal with things as they must deal with. When it came to her powers, few they might be, she believed wholly in what she could do. There simply wasn't room for doubt, as that was the very weakness that would get her killed and set the monster free.

Feet barely stirring the sand beneath her, she ate up quite a bit of distance despite how small she was. Natural landscapes, even ones of such a harsh climate and variance as a desert, didn't bother her as much as it might a mortal. Her faint light cast off from her hands and exposed face as the sun dipped below the horizon and washed the dunes in moonlight. With not a cloud above them, Bytta didn't bother stopping. She would sleep whenever she finally reached the oasis she was aiming for. This did mean that she ended up walking, quick and in a straight shot, through out the whole of the night and into the lightening sky of dawn.

Another might have thought the cluster of trees in the distance a hopeful mirage, but the fae could scent the trace of water and leaf in the air. She was near. Though Bytta was tired and her tiny pack of essentials seemed to have doubled in weight, she hadn't slowed and did not until, just as the sun was starting to crest the horizon and the desert was beginning to heat up, they arrived.

It was an oasis, but it was by no means one that would likely be marked on any map for large caravans. Three desperate trees with slender, bleached trunks rose up, just a little taller than the monster she'd bound the night before. Their leaves were slender and provided very little by way of shade. The sand gave way to hardened rock around a small spring that wasn't even big enough for Bytta, small fae she was, to bathe in. One thirsty mount would've consumed all that had bubbled to the surface in one go. It muddied some dirt but remained, mostly, clear while small, floating clover and tiny while lilies gathered around the bank of the oasis. Cacti clustered on the farther fringes, not needed to be so close but benefiting from the underground spring water.

It wasn't much, but Bytta was thankful for it none the less.

With a heavy sigh, she dropped her things at the base of a bleached trunk and knelt on the hard rock to dip a hand in the warm water. A couple mouthfuls and a splash on her face later, she sat back to rest a moment. She'd need to set up her small shelter, but... for a moment, she just wanted to sit.

One small favor in all of this was the fact that Zipartas didn't tire easily. A weaker monster might have ended up being dragged across the sand over the course of their trek; granted, a weaker one likely wouldn't have needed this kind of binding anyway. Bytta would have been able to simply put him back to sleep or banish him in this case. But as angry as he might be at her and what she had done, at least he wasn't exhausted by the time she stopped and he no longer felt the edge of the binding like a threat behind him.

When it didn't move any closer for some time, he took a while to explore the boundary of his leash. Out in the open now, and not pushed forward by Bytta's movement across the dunes, Zipartas could more clearly determine just where the border was. If he got too near to the edge, he could feel the prick of the magic against the back of his neck, looming with the promise of pain like he'd experienced before. Not keen on experiencing it again, he didn't test his luck by stepping too far away.

But it did give him more information about just how far from Bytta he could wander. At least the radius of it appeared to be symmetrical—a giant circle of where he was allowed to roam.

Eventually, though, he got bored of that when she still didn't move in any drastic way. Finally, then, he stalked closer to the oasis itself, looking over the small pool of water—barely larger than a puddle wetting the sand—and the few sparse trees that only barely rose over his head. Annoyed at it all, he did crouch near the edge of the water to drink some of it from his cupped fingers. It tasted bad and was warm, but it was better than nothing.

Even something like him still needed water.

He watched Bytta then, green eyes glittering in the growing light of daybreak, to see what she would do next.

The small fae wasn't worried about where Zipartas - the monster - might go, or what he might do. She was quite confident that he wasn't going to be doing anything he shouldn't and there was only so far he was going to make it. Which meant she only had to worry about her own condition at the moment. Before the sun could climb too high up in the sky, she needed to prop up the shelter. While she was a fae, and could certainly tolerate conditions far more severe than a mortal might, that didn't mean she wanted to bake under the sun. The small, bleached trees with the thin limbs would help shade her, but she'd be far more comfortable under the small shelter she'd packed for herself.

Ignoring Zipartas once he had returned, Bytta returned to her small pack so she could start setting up for the afternoon. Most who spent time in the desert wouldn't bother traveling during the heat of the afternoon. It was far too hot, too bright, and Bytta planned to just sleep through it. The shelter that had been packed consisted of several rolls of lightweight, gauze like fabric and slender, but sturdy bamboo poles that she could arrange in whatever formation she needed to shade herself. It was only tall enough for her to lay beneath but it protected her fully.

Once it was propped up, Bytta shrugged out of her traveling clothes. It was going to get really warm. This left her in the delicate cloth fae usually wore - a chest wrap and short, fine silk shorts. Yawning, she settled under the cloth.

Not once, during this entire process, did she even glance at Zipartas. He'd figure out what he wanted to do with himself during the sunshine and do it.

All things considered, Bytta outright ignoring him was probably the one thing she could have done to make him the angriest—beyond directly mocking him. As arrogant and narcissistic could be, Zipartas' temper rankled at the idea that he was so easily disregarded. Like he didn't matter. Like the significance of her difficulty in binding him meant nothing. She might have succeeded in the end, and had now dragged him across the desert, but he was no minor creature to be looked over.

He studied her as she set up her shelter and undressed to rest, and felt his ire stir even more. When he'd gathered supplies from those he had killed and consumed, Zipartas hadn't bothered to keep any of their makeshift tents or shelters. For the kind of traveling he'd had in mind, he wouldn't have needed them; in the monstrous form he'd had previously, he simply would have burrowed beneath the sand to insulate himself both from the heat of the day or the cool of the night and rested there, hidden from any who might otherwise stumble across him.

Yet as difficult as it had been to retain that shape once the binding had been put in place, that no longer seemed like a viable option. It would not truly be rest, if he had to keep some part of his mind active the entire time to keep the shape. And the idea of ruining or dirtying the clothes he now had by sleeping beneath the sand was simply unthinkable.

Of course, he fully intended to trade them in for better, more refined garments as soon as he got an opportunity to. If Bytta ever gave him one. But for now, he didn't relish the idea of ruining the few nice things he had.

Someone else might have just swallowed their pride and sought some form of compromise. But that kind of thing had never been his way. And as long as he had been asleep beneath the ruins of his own cult, Zipartas didn't particularly relish the idea of resting again so soon. Particularly not around someone who was so fully his enemy.

In the end, he sacrificed one of the other few pieces of clothing he'd brought among the things he'd gathered, spreading the robe over an area that would be at least somewhat shaded underneath one of the trees, and leaned his back against the thin trunk when he sat. While Bytta slept, he would think, and plot, and amuse himself by determining what of his magic he could still access during the binding. It would be important to know if Bytta's magic would prevent it all, or only things that would aim to harm her.

The Binding didn't mute his magical capacity, but it did make it difficult for Zipartas to cast anything that was potentially destructive. Like there was a thick fog over his thoughts or the necessary actions required to do such things. It wasn't something that he could work at or wear away with time. It existed because Bytta existed. Just like the barrier. It wasn't something to be chipped away or a weave to be frayed, over the course of time. It was an ancient Binding that was as solidly constructed as the faewyld itself.

Bytta slept soundly. While there were so many concerns she had and an unknowable future - what in the nine hells did she do with the monster now? Where did they go? She couldn't figure out any of that if she wasn't well rested.

The heat of the day was as bright and oppressive as any desert noon. Only marginally better around the oasis where the bleached trees created some shelter over the small pool and those beneath their branches. It was an incredibly rough time to try and sleep through, but Bytta as fae managed. It was only as the sun began its descent into the evening that she woke. Bright pink eyes blinked open and she rubbed at her face. Throat dry and almost raw, she made her way from her small shelter and back to the small pool.

Reflexively, she looked toward Zipartas. Not because she wasn't sure he'd be there, but because she wasn't sure what they should do now and it was about time they started wandering off to figure that out. First and foremost, though, Bytta wanted out of the damn desert. So. That first. Ideally without running into too many people. While she knew he couldn't hurt them, that didn't mean he couldn't terrorize or terrify them. Best to wait until he was a little more agreeable - however long that took - before she went in the vicinity of people if it could be helped.

Once her throat wasn't dry, she sat back on her rear and regarded him. "So." The first word she'd said to him since leaving the ruins. "We're going to leave the desert, up into the plains, and... " Well. That was as far as she'd gotten. Depending on how they'd gotten along at that point, she'd adjust her course.

During the time she'd slept, Zipartas had run through many of his favored spells, and even some more minor transformations just to see if he could still do them. It pleased him to see that his magic hadn't been completely bound—the fizzled spell he'd tried to cast on Bytta had concerned him far more than he would have ever admitted to her, or anyone else. But all the other known aspects of the binding aside, it seemed that his abilities in that sense hadn't been hampered.

Or so he'd thought until, glancing in the direction of her tent, he'd sought to ignite one of the narrow trees nearby.

It was a spell he'd used often in the past, and knew well. A simple thing—destructive, but not utilizing much power. It was more about just creating the flame that would then perpetuate itself. But though it was one he knew, one he remembered using, had known by heart... the gesture he'd been about to make faltered, and the magic slipped away from his fingers.

How had that spell gone, again?

Renewed anger gripping tight in his chest, he tried another:  this one to shift the earth violently beneath Bytta's tent. And when he couldn't remember that one either, he aimed it at a different place, intending only to see the ground crack and the sand slip away beneath, with nothing to do with her. But though he could visualize it, could feel the magic just at his fingertips, his mind went blank again.

It had to be her doing. Unless the long centuries of sleep had robbed him of all his wits, but Zipartas didn't think that was the case. He'd been bright and keen and in possession of all his faculties as soon as he'd woken in the ruin; it made no sense that would be any different now.

The only thing different was her.

He spent the rest of the time testing the further limits of the binding, learning what magic it considered too dangerous for him to remember well enough to even use. Restless, he even burned the energy to half transform his fingers into claws, digging marks into the sand and imagining it was him tearing through her tent, through her flesh, to reach her heart and eat it whole.

There had to be a way out of this.

Zipartas glared balefully at her when she finally did emerge from her tent again, watching her as she moved to the small pool of water and drank. When she spoke and then trailed off, he smiled at her in a way that was both distinctly unpleasant and without humor. "And then what?" he asked, waspishly. That she didn't even have a plan for what she was going to do with him just irked him all the more.

It was entirely childish, but Bytta scrunched up her face at Zipartas when he asked her and then what. Because he damn well knew she had no idea what to do with him. Her entire plan had been to put him back to sleep.

Instead, she was stuck with him and, until she was destroyed, he was stuck with her. So, her eyes narrowed a little in annoyance and she crossed her arms to consider. It'd probably work out best if she just built some little hovel in some stretch of woods where no one would ever go and she could just... tolerate him until some natural disaster swallowed them both up.

Time certainly wasn't going to kill them.

Bytta leaned forward for one more drink before she stood up to gather her supplies. No point in wasting good travel temperatures. Without saying another word to him, she eventually gathered up her things and just started drifting north. The idea would be to cover as much ground as she could until the temperature became unbearable again.

That meant a lot of walking until noon the next day.

As before, in the early morning she started to look for some manner of cover. A rocky outcropping just before high noon served as her shelter, where she set up her tent to further protect herself from the sun and heat. It was definitely miserable, but it'd do for now.

Wordlessly, Bytta went to sleep.

She hadn't checked nearby to see if anyone else had sought refuge from the desert sun.

It shouldn't have surprised him that she didn't answer his question. She hadn't seemed to have much of a plan beyond preventing him from wreaking the kind of havoc he craved—whether that was because she genuinely didn't have one, or because she didn't want him to know it, Zipartas wasn't sure. But judging by the expression she made at him before moving to break camp, he'd guess it was the former.

How annoying.

Nevertheless, he was helpless but to follow her when she moved on. The excruciating experience from the day before had made that clear enough, and he had no desire to repeat it. As stubborn and spiteful as he could be, Zipartas still didn't enjoy pain. He would endure it for a cause, but the sheer mindless obedience it had sparked in him was something he didn't care for. This problem would require a more finessed solution, he felt, rather than throwing himself at the walls of his 'cage' like a wild animal. It didn't seem like he could simply break Bytta's will with that kind of relentless assault. This wasn't a binding she had to maintain—something that was simply in place once she had cast it.

Another annoyance.

When she made camp again, still without really acknowledging his presence, Zipartas watched her until she disappeared into her tent and then simply walked away. She'd know the direction he was in, he presumed, and probably how far away he was... but judging by the explorations he'd done previously of his mobile prison, Bytta likely wouldn't care if he roamed within its confines.

He didn't get far, though, before he sensed something interesting. Promising, even.

More difficult though it was now, he'd adopted his favored monstrous form just to prove to himself that he still could. It took a concentrated effort, but it was more convenient for moving around under the desert sun than his more humanoid one. But with the focus it took, it meant he wasn't paying as close attention to what his senses were telling him. He'd reached the cliff edge of another rocky outcropping before the wind shifted and he caught the scent of human from below.

Peering over the edge, Zipartas' eyes glinted bright emerald green as he spied the small camp, a huddle of tents in the thin shade less than a mile from where Bytta had set up her own.

Would their screams wake her? Would she sense that he was up to mischief? Either way, he didn't care. Almost gleefully, he slunk forward and picked his way vertically down the rock, claws digging against it and showering the tents below with chips of stone.

For the things he had in mind, even that mild warning wouldn't save them. They wouldn't be fast enough to reach the edge of the binding before he was on them, even if they knew he was coming.

Less than halfway down the modest cliff, he braced himself and sprang—landing on his clawed feet, taloned hands tearing through the canvas of the tent to get at the morsels inside, bladed tail poised to strike at them as soon as they were visible. But though his sharp fingers rent the cloth easily enough, another unseen barrier made them skitter off the surface of his would-be victim's skin, casting heatless sparks as the magic of his transformation met that of the binding. The human below him shrieked, and he howled right back in rage, lashing out at their belly with his tail and thwarted yet again when it glanced off as though the man was wearing impervious armor.

Damn her. Damn her for ever being born, and for keeping him from what he wanted.