A Saniwa's Duty

Prologue

"Can we go home yet?"

Silence.

"You could just finish that on the way home, y'know."

No response.

"Are you even listening to me?"

The voice was met again with silence. Its owner, a young girl, gave up elliciting a response from her only other companion in the spacious office they were in: a woman whose attention and gaze was affixed to the holographic screen in front of her, lavender eyes thoroughly absorbing the data being displayed.

The girl, who sat on a cushioned chair, pouted. She let her chin rest on the palm of her hand, elbow on the desk with posture relaxed and sighed deeply. Her free hand lay atop the varnished wood surface that made up the desk, fingers idly drumming against the wood.

After a moment of this, the woman scowled, clearly aggravated that her quiet reading was being interrupted. Nevertheless, the woman did her best to tune out the noise, moving a hand up to scroll down the document before setting it back down on the desk.

Several minutes passed before the girl stopped what she was doing. The woman closed her eyes briefly and gave a sigh of relief. She brought both arms up and clasped both hands together, and no longer appeared to be reading, her gaze a little far off, apparently lost in thought.

This time however, the girl stood up and walked over to where the woman sat, then bent down slightly and rested her elbows on the desk with her chin on her palm. The girl began to read what the woman read a moment ago.

A while later, the woman could feel someone's gaze on her, and when she looked, azure eyes met lavender ones, which shot the girl a mixed expression of confusion and irritation.

"What are you doing?," the woman asked.

"Reading, obviously," the younger replied and rolled her eyes before she straightened up.

"What for?"

"You seem to be so preoccupied and worked up over whatever this mission is supposed to be."

"That's because I AM. It's part of my job," replied the woman, her irritation growing slightly. She too stood up and swiped the screen, which vanished.

The girl looked the woman up and down then said, "I don't know why you insist on wearing that every time we come here anyways."

The woman wore a black polo shirt embroidered in white with the name A. KNIGHTLEY on the lefthand side and four silver stars near the hems of the sleeves, army blue tactical pants and black combat boots. Tan skin and toned arms indicated long hours out in the sun, with plenty of manual labor, and her hair was cut short, hanging just around the shoulders.

The girl had fair skin, who wore a blue raglan, navy pedal shorts and black sneakers. Her garnet hair reached to the middle of her back and was currently tied up in a side ponytail to her left, her short fringe rested just above her eyebrows.

"I'm in a position of power and influence, and my line of work requires seriousness and mature thinking," stated the woman, Knightley. "Why wouldn't I be formal?"

"At least wear something else that isn't too formal, Mom," suggested the girl, hands shoved in her pockets.

"It's more of a smart casual look, kiddo."

"Makes it look like you don't have enough unique clothes to wear but, whatever. We going home now?"

"I suppose so. I'll think about this mission assignment on the ride home," came the reply from Knightley.