It's Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas - OTA
With the wreckage of the attack still lingering, like smoke, no one much felt like celebrating the holiday. There were dead to account for, information to retrieve, and retaliation to plan. The injured, in which there were many, made their way to the medical building to be patched up.
Angel, thankfully, wasn't among them. Unlike the others who sprang to action, ready to defend the camp and save the day, Angel, always a deep sleeper, only woke up right before she was rendered unconscious again. By the time she woke up a second time the attack was over and she was relatively unharmed aside from a bump on her head and groggy drunk feeling. It had been too dark to see her assailant so she wasn't even aware of an attack until she went outside to find bodies being piled up in the middle of camp.
The next few days were rough. Military efficiency reigned supreme even if a good portion of the bases guards were killed. Angel wanted to mourn the dead but with no way of knowing if they were still in danger, sentiment was put on the back burner. Only Angel wasn't someone with any kind of power. She wasn't someone Emma Frost turned to when calculating a plan so for the redhead it was just a lot of waiting to be told what to do. Patience was not Angel's virtue. It was even effecting her sleep.
A 2 am walk around the base Christmas morning, found her standing in front of the mess hall. It wouldn't be open for breakfast for hours but Angel was antsy and needed a way to distract herself. When the chef came in to start breakfast he was met by a petite flour covered redhead and about 200 cookies. Safe to say he wasn't happy.
Angel, thankfully, wasn't among them. Unlike the others who sprang to action, ready to defend the camp and save the day, Angel, always a deep sleeper, only woke up right before she was rendered unconscious again. By the time she woke up a second time the attack was over and she was relatively unharmed aside from a bump on her head and groggy drunk feeling. It had been too dark to see her assailant so she wasn't even aware of an attack until she went outside to find bodies being piled up in the middle of camp.
The next few days were rough. Military efficiency reigned supreme even if a good portion of the bases guards were killed. Angel wanted to mourn the dead but with no way of knowing if they were still in danger, sentiment was put on the back burner. Only Angel wasn't someone with any kind of power. She wasn't someone Emma Frost turned to when calculating a plan so for the redhead it was just a lot of waiting to be told what to do. Patience was not Angel's virtue. It was even effecting her sleep.
A 2 am walk around the base Christmas morning, found her standing in front of the mess hall. It wouldn't be open for breakfast for hours but Angel was antsy and needed a way to distract herself. When the chef came in to start breakfast he was met by a petite flour covered redhead and about 200 cookies. Safe to say he wasn't happy.