Post by Ricter on Oct 21, 2009 20:40:58 GMT -5
Mist, curling in the dark like smoke, weaving through the trees. Under most circumstances one might find this unnerving, spooky to the point of frightening. Tonight, one in particular found it absolutely beautiful in it's splendor. With the clouds so thick overhead, the thin rain that came down now even as it promised the full extent of it's wrath yet again. The wonder of it, there could not have been a better night for what was to transpire. That he was sure of.
In all honesty, he would rather not have been chosen to lead this bit of treachery. Rather it was his preference to be in the thick of things. However, he could more than understand the reasoning behind it. Many of his compatriots had such a stone-faced demeanor. A smile always tended to ease the distrusts of others and he did consider himself more personable than most of his family. Still, regardless of what he wished he found himself here, moving silently through the trees and fog, no need for any sort of guidance. He knew the way.
Every now and again he would stop, glancing over his shoulder to see if the subjects were still in tow. The Foundry. For some time he had pondered exactly what it was they hoped to accomplish, what anyone hoped to accomplish. Angels, Council, Foundry, each had their own goals to strive for but for what purpose would it all serve in the bitter end? Such thoughts had churned ceaselessly in his mind, brushed aside now as the time was upon them. His gaze swept over those that were being led, he the shepard, them the flock, unwittingly headed to the proverbial slaughter house.
Coming to a halt, his smirk split into a grin filled with needle like fangs. Looking over his shoulder once again, he waited, this time longer than usual. It was so the leader of the Foundry ambush party would come to him. They were drawing close now. He would lead them in and then, when all were preoccupied an escape would be made. There was no worry for his counterpart in this little operation, he knew all of his comrades could take care of themselves. That was what they were designed for, was it not?
As he stood there, wreathed in mist, he folded his paws behind his back, fingers closing over one another. Looking ahead once more, the collar of the long, black coat turned up against the back of his neck, his grin faded once more into but a smirk. The way he held himself was proper, more like he was taking a stroll than leading an ambush party, his tail curling slightly around his feet. If it were not for those poor, misguided fools behind him he probably would have been laughing but for appearances sake he had to control his mirth. No need for anyone to be suspicious of intentions now.
For too long now he had considered the time to be idle. Sitting on their hands in the proverbial sense. He had been growing bored, his mind having been in an almost constant state of work in finding methods to keep him preoccupied. The same things, the routines, it could only last him so long. However he need wait no more, the time had come. He could barely hold his amusement and anticipation. He had been waiting for this moment for so long and now it was upon them. Caine could not be more pleased.
In all honesty, he would rather not have been chosen to lead this bit of treachery. Rather it was his preference to be in the thick of things. However, he could more than understand the reasoning behind it. Many of his compatriots had such a stone-faced demeanor. A smile always tended to ease the distrusts of others and he did consider himself more personable than most of his family. Still, regardless of what he wished he found himself here, moving silently through the trees and fog, no need for any sort of guidance. He knew the way.
Every now and again he would stop, glancing over his shoulder to see if the subjects were still in tow. The Foundry. For some time he had pondered exactly what it was they hoped to accomplish, what anyone hoped to accomplish. Angels, Council, Foundry, each had their own goals to strive for but for what purpose would it all serve in the bitter end? Such thoughts had churned ceaselessly in his mind, brushed aside now as the time was upon them. His gaze swept over those that were being led, he the shepard, them the flock, unwittingly headed to the proverbial slaughter house.
Coming to a halt, his smirk split into a grin filled with needle like fangs. Looking over his shoulder once again, he waited, this time longer than usual. It was so the leader of the Foundry ambush party would come to him. They were drawing close now. He would lead them in and then, when all were preoccupied an escape would be made. There was no worry for his counterpart in this little operation, he knew all of his comrades could take care of themselves. That was what they were designed for, was it not?
As he stood there, wreathed in mist, he folded his paws behind his back, fingers closing over one another. Looking ahead once more, the collar of the long, black coat turned up against the back of his neck, his grin faded once more into but a smirk. The way he held himself was proper, more like he was taking a stroll than leading an ambush party, his tail curling slightly around his feet. If it were not for those poor, misguided fools behind him he probably would have been laughing but for appearances sake he had to control his mirth. No need for anyone to be suspicious of intentions now.
For too long now he had considered the time to be idle. Sitting on their hands in the proverbial sense. He had been growing bored, his mind having been in an almost constant state of work in finding methods to keep him preoccupied. The same things, the routines, it could only last him so long. However he need wait no more, the time had come. He could barely hold his amusement and anticipation. He had been waiting for this moment for so long and now it was upon them. Caine could not be more pleased.