Pawn {B.B} (1)

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I Am Become Death (10,1)

They had made it back by midday, Anya not hesitating to rush to the war tent, Tyra close on her heels. Even if Tyra attempted at convincing Lexa to no longer start a war, Trikru would not stand by it and would start a war, whether the Commander liked it or not.

"There is no more peace, Tyra." She didn't reply, only following next to Anya to stand by the plans on the table, the makeshift sky people's camp resting over it.

"I'm aware. I'll send word to Heda." Anya waved with her free hand to one of her guards, who immediately went to grab Tyra some ink and paper so she'd write her report to Lexa.

Tyra kept it brief, how they went to a meeting with the intent of peace, only for people to be killed and war to be declared between Trikru and the sky people. She made sure to emphasize Clarke's threat, and how Tyra believed they'd suffer significant casualties regarding their warriors if she remained true and the sky people gained more of their weapons and advanced technology.

While Tyra wrote her report, Anya had begun to clean her wound quite sloppily, only pressing a wet cloth straight on her wound and wiggling it around, making her wince each time.

Once done, Tyra handed the report to one of Anya's guards who went to deliver it to a messenger, so word would reach Polis and therefore, Lexa.

"Allow me." Anya huffed but still handed Tyra the cloth, she was also not a big enjoyer of Tyra's company, but her mother had been one of the best healers to ever belong to Trikru, and Anya didn't doubt she had taught her daughter all about the art of healing another person.

Tyra rinsed the cloth in the pale of water by Anya's seat before gently dabbing it around the wound, an action significantly less painful than what Anya had been attempting.

"What do you know of their weapons?" Tyra softly let the rag drop in the bucket before taking her sword out and placing on top of the heated coals of the fire at the edge of the tent.

"Last I had contact with the inside, they only had knives and spears. This machinery is news to me." Tyra buried her sword deeper in the coals, the tip of her sword beginning to turn a bright yellow.

"Jarl!" One of Anya's guards came inside, Tyra dabbing at Anya's bleeding wound once more while he came up to them both. "Release the prisoner."

Jarl nodded, leaving Anya and Tyra to their own accords to go and follow Anya's orders. Meanwhile, Tyra took her glowing sword off the fire, holding it far away enough from her hand so she didn't burn her own skin.

"What prisoner?" Anya saw the sword and clenched her fist around the armrest of her makeshift throne.

"You will see soon enough." Tyra didn't exactly like Anya's answer. Of course, she still would follow whatever prisoner they had released to see who it was and where they'd end up. But Anya's cocky attitude, as if she knew something Tyra didn't, ticked the redhead off.

Tyra didn't feel much remorse for pressing the glowing blade to Anya's still bleeding shoulder. Even as she let out a brief pained scream, her eyes nearly blowing out of her face before she clenched her teeth and smashed her head against the back of her seat to try to focus on some other pain that was not prominent of her shoulder.

"I suppose I will," Tyra removed the now cool sword from Anya's sealed shoulder and let it drop inside the bucket with the reddened cloth, some water splashing on to Tyra's pants.

"I'll be around the sky people's camp if you require more counselling. Wrap that shoulder, and avoid getting it wet or dirty." Anya nodded, waving Tyra off while she took her sword back from the bucket and cleaned it free of burnt flesh with the dirty rag.