Deep in the dark, something was stirring - something vast, sinuous and twisting, uncoiling in the salty depths.
The watchers, in their infinite guardianship, did not move at all, keeping their eternal vigilance beneath the earth. But something was changing, a shift was occurring in the constantly shifting chaos lurking before their gaze. But if they noticed, the watchers gave no sign.
Scales shifted, spines fluttered and split the black, foaming surf; unblinking, midnight eyes stared skyward, casting jealous glances towards the open skies, forever hidden by miles of stone and rock.
Samael too, could only watch in frustration, unable to enter the inner cavern - a power greater even than him made it impossible to cross the ring of watchers.
The Seven had not taken the bait and Samael was tired of waiting. This was supposed to be the time of the Sitra Achra, the time of blood and tears, force and violence - and the Seven were steadfastly refusing to play the roles laid out before them. Ashmedai was prepared to play his part in the coming drama, deploying his powers of illusion and impersonation to the greatest extent - having failed once, he was sure not to let down the Sitra Achra again.
And then the Boss had told them all to wait. To wait, damn it all. Explosions of barely contained rage rippled below the surface of Samael’s cracking skin, roiling and churning. He was the Severity of God, husband to the Angels of Prostitution - not some fucking watcher, eternally waiting for prey.
So when the nameless one proposed paying the Unborn Prince a visit, Samael had turned a blind eye. Regardless of what the Boss thought about it, the nameless one should be able to master a weakling like Asher - and then - Samael grinned and ground his teeth in anticipation - then Leviathan would rise, and devour the world.
And in the deep darkness, as if it could sense its time was near, the great sea monster slowly uncoiled.
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