The Hermit

He waited. Forever, he waited. Here, in this dark, dank cave. How long? An hour? A year? A thousand?
He’d grown a beard, long, down to his waist. He could feel it, even in the dark. And his body, it felt old. And brittle.
The dark… how he longed for the light. To warm himself in the glow of it. But he dared not… he couldn’t risk it. He kept his eyes shut tight at all times, never risking to open them. He did not move any more than was absolutely necessary. Not yet, not yet.
But, perhaps… soon.
“It’s not over…they’re going to come…I know. Not over…never over…”, he said to no-one.
He waited.

The Hermit

Exalted: In A Mirror Darkly insomniabob