She was so near, yet so far away. Velentham had to keep the magics going that kept them from being burned by the super-heated atmosphere around them. The hills of red sand beat against the edge of the bubble he had created, the bubble that kept him from being able to do much other than hold his prize. Though the look on her face, the damned look on her face, the pain and contempt! "Stop looking at me like that!" he finally barked, and she looked away. Damn Gilean for turning her against him. Damn that beast, Colin, too. Damn them all!
Velentham breathed heavily and clenched his eyes and set his jaw. It was only the bubble that was making him irritable - the expenditure of magicthat he had to keep going every moment. He had come off of a magic fight with the beggar, cast a very powerful silence spell on Sanria, had whisked them both away to a desert, and had to keep them alive until his cousin and any other had finally given up hope of locating them. Or at least slowed down the process.
"I'm sorry..." he said, and used more of his ability to create around them a tent. The sound of the sands died down only minutely. At least with an object he could imbue it with some of the magic in his body. And that done, he could have a precious few minutes with his quarry before he had to recharge the magic. "It's a lot of effort, you know, keeping this place up." He smiled. She kept her face turned away. Velentham's face grew cold. "I'm talking to you," he growled. She looked at him. He sighed.
He would have to use more magic, just to make this bearable. And so in the moments between recharging the magic tent, Velentham attempted to break into the mind of his captive. Most of the time she fought, which angered him, but the rest of the time he could manage to get a smile on her lips - even if her eyes betrayed her true outrage. That would go away in time. All in time.
Velentham sat on the ground and pulled her down to him. He held her head to his chest, breathing in her hair. In the moments he had before the tent needed him, he worked on Sanria's mind, coaxing her, soothing her, all while wearing himself down. It had been years since he had exerted so much effort. He managed to kiss her deeply before the tent flickered and he was forced to put his effort there and watch her pull away in disgust. Disgust. That would not do. All in time, he reminded himself, and again turned his attention to matters of their survival.
