ᖴᖇOᗰ ᕼEᒪᒪ TO ᕼᗩᐯEᑎ

🔹Ｓｅｖｅｎｔｅｅｎ🔹

Piercing emerald eyes scanned the scene in front of them as the chocolate-colored skin slowly folded into a frown and Lashay signed. Everything in front of her was depressing. The scene, the atmosphere, and the smell. The revolting, menacing smell of blood.

Amid the numerous carcasses on the battlefield, a single breathed. A child, her curtain of black hair falling on her face, her golden eyes seeping through the darkness and glowing, the brilliant blue flame flickering in her hand. Lashay regreted not being on the scene fast enough. She pressed her eyes shut and inhaled a large amount of air, praying that some amount of patience would be inhaled with it as well.

She opened her eyes and walked towards the child, the 17-ish girl looked up, waiting for approval, hoping for it, rather. Lashay placed a caring hand on the girl's shoulder, saying " Good job." A glint of water reflected in the teenager's eyes before she wiped it away and gave a gruff, indifferent nod.

"But." Lashay continued seriously." Bloodshed was unessential."

The girl, in the middle of walking away, whipped her head around and glared at the thirty-something woman. Another glint of water visible in those azure irises of hers, this time a somehow sadder glint.

"They had committed a heavy crime." The teenager spoke." They were going to be hanged anyway."

Lashay signed, there was a difference between revenge and justice, it seemed that her disciple was yet to learn it." When they would be hanged, they would have been given an opportunity to be told what they did wrong, they would have the opportunity to be sorry for what they did, thus it would grant them a proper, justified death, thus a justified decision. Justice to the victim and the criminal as both are but humans."

The child clenched her teeth and scoffed, " They're dead, anyway, justified or not."

With a look of disapproval, Lashay spoke, " You need to be more sensitive."

Glaring at her mentor, the girl spoke, " I'll try."

Lashay, with her white hair up in a bun, her wrinkles bent into a scowl, her ancient finger running on the equally ancient paper froze as she heard a knock at her door. She clapped her hand twice and the door creaked open. Her torn, disheveled, and wounded guard walked in, stumbling with his footing and barely avoiding the little amount of furniture in her office.

" Rigon!" Lashay exclaimed as she saw the state of her spy.

"Nana. ( Grandmother) " A whisper came as a response, a plead and a warning tangled in it.

"Come here." Lashay indicated one of her many scouts, who were like her children and grandchildren. " What happened?" She asked as she slowly dabbed the ointment on his wound.

"Chaos, chaos." That was the only answer Rigon could come up with before he fainted. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Short but I didn't know whether the rest would be relevant with this or not so here ya go :)