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Going home to Zah

"Okay. So," Yashima leaned on the edge of the doorway, head cocked to the side to rest on the wooden frame. The traditional home had come out beautiful, more so than the travel agent made it out to be. Tousan, Gods bless him, paid their way and promised to keep an eye on Zasalamel in Yashima's wake. One slim, naked foot tapped quickly to the wooden floor, eyes narrowed in disdain. "I need to confront her. From my past. I already killed Sakura, the b***h wants me dead. Isn't that enough?"

His ears flicked back. No. Betan had not left his mind since he'd broken Sakura's neck. She'd plagued his dreams, filled with a cruel glare, a sneer, and the promise of finding and killing Yashima and everyone he found precious in life. Anyone who even knew the pale fox was made well aware, very quickly, that the most important person in his existance was the somewhat grumpy drow that graced his bed each night.

He glanced over his shoulder, gaze grumpy. Maybe not each night: Kay slept on the small bed in the bedroom with Zah halfway across the world in their apartment. In this, Yashima was alone. He thought it best. If something happened, if Betan managed to get her claws on Zah she wouldn't need to find Yashi to hurt him. Loosing Zah would kill him and at least Yashi had grown to be man enough to admit that, dresses or no. It's why the stupid drow had to stay, why he couldn't pack up and bolt after Yashi like he knew he so wanted to.

Hell, that was why Yashi extracted the promise from him that he wouldn't follow.

"Damnit, I hate this," A twist of his upper lip and Yashi pushed himself away from the door, down the hallway to the exit. A startled footstep to his right - a maid, a young one with wide eyes when she watched the pretty thing in a white robe and black silk pants stride off and shove himself out the door. Poor pretty girl. She'd have to see him again when he clawed himself into the hotel again, hopefully covered in the blood of a goddess.

Three in the morning. Why did all of his big shot revelations and actions come so late at night? The hunting of Zah's wife, declaring his love, moving, flashbacks; all of them had happened in the wee hours of morning, best he could remember. The air never smelled quite as sweet as it did that night when he shifted into his white furred skin and fled into the night, the wilderness.

Flying green and brown, temples and hotspots, creatures of the wild that happened to stumble on the streak of ivory. He could feel the shift between mortal and immortal realms immediately: the instant rippling sensation over his fur, that of power, the scent of old blood. Yashima's ears laid back, flat to his skull, and he sunk to his belly. No time for this, for the fear. Not a thing stirred around him.

Yashima bristled, raised his nose to drink deep this new stink of Betan and her minions. He half-turned, bolted in the general direction of her concubines palace.