After the day's unexpected events, which could only be described as a series of unfortunate misunderstandings, Zephara, with a mix of reluctance and urgency, dropped me off at the threshold of her grandmother's abode. Sexy grandma stood just outside the door, her posture rigid, arms crossed in a clear display of disapproval.
She looks so angry.
"Zephara, how dare you whisk away my disciple without a word of notice," the grandmother chided, her voice a sharp contrast to the gentle rustling of leaves around us. Her eyes, sharp and piercing, bore into Zephara with an intensity that spoke volumes of her anger.
"I don't need your authorization to take her, Grandmother," Zephara retorted, her tone defiant, yet a hint of respect lingered at the edges of her words. She turned to leave, her cloak billowing behind her, but her grandmother's hand shot out, swift as a striking viper, clasping Zephara's face with an iron grip.
