Judgement
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He watched closely, hair hanging down in front of his face. Dripping from the early signs of the storm descending upon the old town of Rotii. The wind was cold and smelled of the earth, grass and acid.
He couldn't care less, for the storm or the waves of wind trying to knock him off of his perch.
His job required dicipline.
No emotion,
So he could judge the sins of the innocent and guilty fairly. To be able to discern between the two.
So he waits, watching his assigned target.
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