Fishblight Mire sweet, mourning lamb

that day in the desert, ikaros ran with his tail between his legs. samirseti did not bid his man to follow, as tempting a proposition as it was, and so arkane slipped away under cover of night.

he tracked his quarry in the days following, at first intent on returning him to the pharaoh's feet. but intrigue won him over, and he opted instead to keep such a prize for himself. ikaros, of course, protested greatly, but what could he do? nothing, and arkane relished having that power over him. for days they had traveled together, side by side, and it was endlessly amusing to witness the apalled look on his prisoner's face as the beast brought him all manner of mutilated meals. frogs, tortoises, snakes. once, even a few scorpions with their tails removed.

the man paused, tapering to a halt as they approached a peaty bog- and barked a laugh at the disgusted look on the boy's face.

"we rest here tonight, you and i. do not try to run from me again. i would hate to make you sleep beneath me."

a pause, then, watching and waiting.

"are you hungry, ikaros?" the name is a silken purr as he leans in closer, red eyes half-lidded.

an unwilling prisoner now chained to a beast. is this really how the sister fates written his story? was this the torture he was to endure until the end of times? trudging alongside the brute of a man he'd once escaped. stewing in his own misery, spitting his venom and wishing had he been more able-bodied, that he could kill the man while he sleeps. or perhaps poison him, if only he had the knowledge. it was a cruel joke; he'd ran from the kingdom that too once shackled him, only to wind back up in a gilded cage. 

the journey was terrible, but arkane's company and cruelty was far worse than any ache in his feet. worse than any hunger, sickness. a wicked, terrible man. as vile as they come. ikaros would remind the man of this often; there wasn't a moment that passed that wasn't filled with his insults and curses. arkane found great amusement in shoving dead, horrific creatures in the stormy man's face. and he would often curl up to himself at night, wishing a bolt of lightning would come and strike the man down.

but luck has never been on his side.

his nose wrinkles as the stench of the bog assaults it. "what in the hells—this is fucking horrendous!" comes his cry. it echo's around the bog, sending blackbird to rouse from their perches. he scowls and bristles, huffs and puffs. "you cannot expect me to—to sleep here!" 

oh, but arkane did. and he would, because he has no fucking choice. 

"please do. just smother me while you're at it. death would be greater than this." came his sour mumble.

he does not like that bedroom stare of arkane's. it makes his skin crawl something horrendous. spikey tail lashes with disdain as he paces back and forth. "absolutely not. i would rather starve." but there's a loud grumble from his stomach that demands otherwise.

"stay here. i will feed you." and just as he did when they first met, arkane disappears into the dark, in search of something to sate them both. ikaros is many things- violent, strong-willed, insatiable. but he is not a fool. he will wait where he is told, because running will only prolong a worse fate.

the former alay-basi returns some time later, the lost child of forlorn wāpiti clasped in his bloody jaws. his charge will eat well tonight, if only because feeding him scraps will not prove useful long-term.

arkane drops the felled creature at ikaros' feet, shoves it bluntly toward him with a great paw.

"eat." he commands, without a trace of amusement. they are tired, the both of them. the larger man has eaten little since abandoning vahanet, has given over his catches all to the ungrateful brat who rests at his feet.