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[BCM] Patience
Jun. 30th, 2008 03:18 pmHe waited in the dark and cold, with his legs drawn in to his chest and his forehead resting against his knees. He didn’t have enough room to lift his head or roll his shoulders. It was a small box, a cramped box the Archangel’s soldiers had banished him to, but he wasn’t worried about being trapped. Eventually there would be something that required his attention, and his brethren knew where to find him when the time came. It was only a matter of patience, and patience was something he had in ample amounts. His wrath was something you didn’t want to test, because when you did, it most certainly didn’t end well for those involved.
He didn’t fight either, just sat there, waiting for the light to breach the doorway of his prison and release him in to the world again. He stayed where he was, waiting and watching as the world changed in front of him and he had no power to try and change it. He watched wars, countries and governments rise and fall, terror, horrors, disasters, and in the end of it all, all he could think was that they hadn’t seen anything yet.
If it was terror they wanted, he would bring terror. They wanted bloodshed, he would shed more than they could possibly understand.
He waited in his silence, and when the door finally did crack, and he could feel the breeze of the wind on his face and the burn of the sun against his skin. He could almost taste the copper tang of the blood he had left to shed, and he couldn’t wait to stretch his legs and let the world feel his wrath. The world would regret locking him away, and he was prepared to show them just how much of a mistake it was.
311 words
He didn’t fight either, just sat there, waiting for the light to breach the doorway of his prison and release him in to the world again. He stayed where he was, waiting and watching as the world changed in front of him and he had no power to try and change it. He watched wars, countries and governments rise and fall, terror, horrors, disasters, and in the end of it all, all he could think was that they hadn’t seen anything yet.
If it was terror they wanted, he would bring terror. They wanted bloodshed, he would shed more than they could possibly understand.
He waited in his silence, and when the door finally did crack, and he could feel the breeze of the wind on his face and the burn of the sun against his skin. He could almost taste the copper tang of the blood he had left to shed, and he couldn’t wait to stretch his legs and let the world feel his wrath. The world would regret locking him away, and he was prepared to show them just how much of a mistake it was.
311 words
