Waiting endlessly, a sudden twitch unpleasantly and cruelly betraying their impatience. They wait for their orders in the shadows of the night. The green signal they need to carry out their work. Instead, they're given other roles. Meaningless inconsequential (seemingly anyhow) missions that hardly require any thought or art. And they grow more and more impatient.
Sometimes I think, one day, they'll just lose it. Instead of all this obedient waiting and watching, there will be only endless choosing, making and carrying out of plans. The superiors will watch dumbly as wave after wave of realms are finished with and woven anew, until finally the pattern is clear for the higher-ups to appreciate and take credit for. And no one knows about the guardian-angel like light that made them move without a single command. Siren. She sings us to sea without a breeze. And no one will ever know where she comes from. Except me, because I see her leave through the smoke. Cheap trick, but she pulls it off.
I only wish she did projects.