For Basilisk, the world faded from the battle scene to a desolate landscape wedged between large, jagged rocks, chunks knocked out of them for the construction of a broad, flat, slightly gravel-littered, light-coloured road between them, winding toward an ominous seeming mist.

The buildings making up Njoty's cityscape lie mostly as a dull grey toward the west, light glinting off snippets of glass in a mostly unexciting fashion. It's an urban place, almost purely functional in its feel - not something one might miss when leaving. But all that aside, it's not anything Basilisk would focus on.

Each heartbeat spreads the venom a little further through its shape, burning inside as if someone were pushing barbed wire through its arteries.

Basilisk shivers a little, staggering slightly but doesn't make a sound, one forepaw clamped against his injured side. He doesn't look across at Dakarai, wincing in pain as he is and he stares almost uncomprehendingly at the ground, almost but not quite cowering from the human.

Dakarai grimaces at his pokémon, left hand's thumb hooked into the edge of his trousers, tip of his right hand's thumb pushing Basilisk's pokéball into the respective pocket, remaining fingers of that hand locked around the hilt of the whip. It's not active. He seems gravely contemplative - and is, in fact, juggling precisely how to punish this creature for it's idiocy. The silence is almost unsettling, before he finally slides the weapon back into that pocket, only to fish Basilisk's pokéball back out. His left hand unwraps from the edge of his trousers and he casts it upward and forward, pointing toward the mists. “Let's go. Walk.”

Basilisk cringes and starts to walk, flicking a look slightly down and across at his trainer without that he makes a sound. The large Dragon type staggers then, but catches himself before he actually does so, wings flaring before he folds them to his back and out of his way. He doesn't look at Dakarai again and remains silent as he walks, shape taut with pain.

Dakarai settles his left hand back in the loop his thumb had hooked into before, rolling his shoulders slightly under the straps of the relatively heavy rucksack. With a determined stride, he begins to walk forward, passing the near-limping creature with ease. His demeanour does not suggest it - but he's alert to its antics. Should it try to attack, he can recall it; and deal punishment accordingly. Flatly, he asks, past his shoulder: “You realise you've only yourself to thank for this, right?”

Basilisk blinks but doesn't say anything, trying to walk a little faster to catch up with his trainer, but failing miserably and having to force himself to keep walking and not collapse. He shivers, eyes closing as he whimpers, very softly without that he actually says anything nor does he look at Dakarai.

Dakarai is at least walking fairly slowly, even if each and every of his step seems to be infused with a strange energy. The plan he'd inwardly come up with was to walk all the way to Nahla with his pokémon - he had a few potions, and since he wasn't planning on battling in wild pokémon encounters anymore, he could allow himself the luxury of using them to teach Basilisk a valuable lesson. It wasn't something he enjoyed, per se - but he very much perceived it as a necessity.

Basilisk pauses then, before resuming walking, a strained whimper sliding from him before he lowered his head, eyes almost fully closed, only following his trainer by scent. He shuddered a little, wincing and hissing at the pain before he was silent, eyes opening a little more as he he raised his head.

Most trainers would probably feel some form of sympathy for the suffering pokémon, especially since it was so easy to end it by simply recalling the creature to its pokéball and keeping it in a form of suspension until a Pokécenter could be reached. Not so Dakarai, who seemed to, perhaps, be hoping for some kind of response from his pokémon regarding the earlier jab, even through the creature's no doubt numbing pain.

Basilisk shivers a little. “<Not… understand… why rush?>” the pokémon finally says, forehead wrinkling as he speaks. He falls silent again as he draws in a ragged breath, walking a little slower, unable to walk much faster before he flicks a look to his trainer then away again as a whine of pain escapes him.