As his Grandmother spoke, K'yohko's burning eyes drew away from his daughter. He remembered the lesson she was enduring very well. In his youthful arrogance, he had learned humility and patience from his Grandmother in this method. He had learned many things from his beloved Grandmother K'takka, and K'yohko only futility wished she would regain some youth from those who wasted it, so she might teach the arrogant youth what it meant to be a part of this family. Arrogance and self-centered desires filled the sick ashy hearts of those whom he protected, and it was beginning to sicken him. As if the greed of Ul'dah reached far and vast into the Sagolii, adding more poison to their already infected bodies.
But his lips remained in a firm line, his scowl lightening as his attention was drawn by K'takka. The fire dance instructed his wayward daughter's return. It was all too likely. He gave a curt nod to his Grandmother, his arms crossed beneath his powerful chest in a tense manner. His entire body stood tall and powerful, tension in every muscle.
"His disrespect for the law grows tiresome. He is an enforcer of it, not above it. Yet he fancies himself to be so." K'yohko remarked, darkness and bitterness seeping into his deep smooth voice. His eyes flickered down to his daughter, the product of some such corrupting influence. "Just as your arrogant disrespect of your family grows tiresome, K'ailia." His words cooled, returning to only that deep smooth strong voice with a tense anger subtly hanging upon his lips. K'yohko's sharp eyes noticed her tears, dripping upon the floor. For once, his ears stood upright, tail bristling for a moment. His lips shut tight, and fury seemed to envelop him. But he was taught well, and with a low exhale, he calmed and everything returned to his form how it ought to be.
"You have no right to cry. You made a decision. Face your consequences like an adult." K'yohko's comment was blunt, and perhaps mean but he could not stand to watch his daughter cry with her face in the mud like a child. If she was to act like she was an adult, then she could not be granted the mercy of a child.
But his lips remained in a firm line, his scowl lightening as his attention was drawn by K'takka. The fire dance instructed his wayward daughter's return. It was all too likely. He gave a curt nod to his Grandmother, his arms crossed beneath his powerful chest in a tense manner. His entire body stood tall and powerful, tension in every muscle.
"His disrespect for the law grows tiresome. He is an enforcer of it, not above it. Yet he fancies himself to be so." K'yohko remarked, darkness and bitterness seeping into his deep smooth voice. His eyes flickered down to his daughter, the product of some such corrupting influence. "Just as your arrogant disrespect of your family grows tiresome, K'ailia." His words cooled, returning to only that deep smooth strong voice with a tense anger subtly hanging upon his lips. K'yohko's sharp eyes noticed her tears, dripping upon the floor. For once, his ears stood upright, tail bristling for a moment. His lips shut tight, and fury seemed to envelop him. But he was taught well, and with a low exhale, he calmed and everything returned to his form how it ought to be.
"You have no right to cry. You made a decision. Face your consequences like an adult." K'yohko's comment was blunt, and perhaps mean but he could not stand to watch his daughter cry with her face in the mud like a child. If she was to act like she was an adult, then she could not be granted the mercy of a child.
![[Image: urVhoNf.png]](http://i.imgur.com/urVhoNf.png)
