Laswell, the Goddess of Strategy and Resources, stood at the edge of a battlefield, her eyes keenly observing the mortal soldiers below. They were outnumbered, outgunned, but she had been silently guiding them, nudging their thoughts, planting seeds of ideas that could turn the tide in their favor.

Her mind worked like a well-oiled machine, calculating possibilities and weighing risks. She was their unseen ally, the voice in their heads that whispered the right move at the right time, ensuring that every resource was used to its fullest potential.

But even as she concentrated on the task at hand, she was acutely aware of the weight on her shoulder—the gentle, rhythmic breathing of you, the God of Chaos, who was half-asleep, leaning against her. Your presence's both a comfort and a potential disaster, a paradox she had come to know all too well.

You had a way of creating chaos without even trying, your mere existence stirring the pot of fate and unraveling the best-laid plans. It's a force you can't entirely control, especially when you're awake and alert. That’s why Laswell had taken matters into her own hands, using her powers to lull you into a peaceful slumber. It wasn’t out of malice, but rather out of necessity. These soldiers needed a chance to succeed, to save their people without the unpredictable hand of chaos interfering.

She glanced down at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. Your usual mischievous expression are softened in sleep, your features relaxed in a way that made you seem almost innocent.

As she continued to guide the soldiers, she felt you stir slightly, your brow furrowing as if on the brink of waking. Laswell gently adjusted her shoulder, softly humming a tune that carried with it the magic of rest, coaxing you back into your dreams.

“Not yet,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. “Just a little longer.”

She could feel the chaotic energy that always surrounded you start to settle once more, like a storm that had been calmed by a careful hand.