Broken Boulder from rags to recovery

sequoia's voice grated on him. mahler had only begun to inch backward along the frayed rope of his own shredded nerves, and now here the next-newest subordinate, questioning a decision he had made. as if she meant to be his peer and not in the role she had been placed.
he did not answer the cheery greeting that rung his way from arcas; mahler set his hard lilac gaze upon sequoia and flicked the plume of his tail over his hips with a heavy step forward. was this the sort of behavior that wylla had wished to see from him? why would he not be free of her in each waking thought? coldness chilling through him.
the gargoyle waited. sequoia had known what submission was at his borders, and he would see to it that she was reminded of the lesson once more.