Axinite's grip on his weapon tightened; there was no denying that Whisler was gone. There was no way they could pursue him, and there was no immediate threat. He drew in a calming breath and dismissed his weapon before turning to Ashanite.

"I trust that you will," he said, voice low and even.

He stood with his head held high, like they hadn't just let some useful tool escape—and worse, escape stronger.

"I expect a full report of this on my desk. I want to know everything that happened. I want to know exactly what went wrong here. I expect that this will never happen again."

It was more than just an expectation, though. It was a warning. Axinite was disgruntled; he seemed paler than usual, and though he hid it well by clenching his hands at his side, there was a faint tremor.

Orangeish Sherbert
Noir Songbird