Undertale Patience Novels & Stories

He needs time, he cannot absorb yet, his brain has not processed the reality that is before him. “Alright son. I'll wait. But please, don't make me wait for too long..”Luna pleaded. She has waited for many years before meeting him. Waiting seemed like eternity to her. Just a day might appear like a year to her. “I'll try,” Patrick replied, his face expressionless. He couldn't look at Luna's face. Her teary face makes him feel pity for her. But then, he needs to take his time to ponder on what he'd heard.

Lucian's P.O.V. ​Patience. ​Patience was something I'd always lacked when dealing with humans, well, really any other living thing which wasn't my family or Blaze. It was stupid, and it pissed me off when my talons usually got the point across much faster. To be suddenly practicing it at such an extreme level was fucking hard. ​I was quickly learning that patience was not a virtue I possessed, and trying to practice it with Iris was driving me absolutely crazy. I look across at my mate, who was sitting innocently by the table, looking out the window with a longing gaze.

Badly. He’s called and texted relentlessly. My phone buzzes nonstop. But I refused to respond. I told myself I wanted to teach him a lesson: abandoning his Luna after our first night while he runs off on business was emotional torture. He’d try mind-linking, I’m sure, but I preemptively had Penny teach me mind-blocking. I had to protect myself from his scent floods and endless apologies. With a heavy breath, I rounded a corner—and froze, when a hoarse voice stopped me .

"You think he's going to escalate that too." "I think," Dante said slowly, "that a man who has spent twenty years being patient does not suddenly become this active unless he has concluded that patience is no longer an option. Which means he's not testing us anymore. He's executing a plan that was already prepared, the moment the situation crossed whatever threshold he'd set for it." He looked at the city outside the window, dark and cold and entirely unaware. "And I think tonight, right now, while we're having this conversation, he is doing the same thing to every other piece on the board." He called Vincent.

He was thorough with me. Not in the instrumental sense. Thorough in the way of someone who has been given a gift they understand the value of and intends to demonstrate that understanding without haste. He moved over me with the patience that was his most fundamental quality, the patience of a man who had learned early that things worth having required sustained attention and had applied that learning to everything that mattered to him. I did not manage anything.

PATREA. "Do you think that if I promise to be gentle, you will let me kiss you?" My eyes widened before my forehead creased. "Aren’t we going too fast?" "If six months is too fast, then yeah, I’m going too fast." He spoke in a voice devoid of any emotion before he pressed his fingers to his closed eyes. "You’re upset." "I am. I’m a demon, Patrea. I don’t have the patience of a saint or even of a human."

“Listen to yourself, bro. You just said if Lucas lets him. Don't worry about it. I think Lucas loves you. So you need to be patient until he is ready.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I'm scared, do you think he will listen to me tomorrow?” “No, he won't, maybe in a few weeks or months.” “What?” “What do you expect? You can't expect him to hug you tomorrow. He is very mad at you. Why didn't you give him a chance to explain? You should have given him the benefit of the doubt. You need to give him time and gradually make up for what you've done. It can only work when he believes that you trust him. So you need a whole lot of patience.”

A thoughtful expression settled over him. “Yut...” “Mm?” Pat lowered his gaze. “Don't you think he's too good to be true?” "Pat asked quietly without looking at Tee, who kept his attention on the television screen, though he couldn't have said what program was playing. It was easier than letting Pat notice the exhaustion he was trying so hard to hide. “In what way?” Tee asked Pat struggled to explain. “You know.” “No, I don't.” Pat sighed. “He's patient.”

"I'm not ready to share them yet." "Why not." "Because timing matters with messages like this one." She looks at me directly. "Selene was specific about that, when she delivered it. She said: when it's time, you'll know. I haven't felt that certainty yet." I want to push. I don't. I've learned enough about patience these past weeks to understand that some things resist forcing, that Cael's thirteen years of careful waiting probably taught her exactly when patience serves better than urgency. "When it's time," I say instead, "I'm here."

The kind that came from the chest rather than the head. This was the second kind. I was patient for ten days. Ten days of watching and noting and giving him the space to bring it to me the way I trusted he would, because he had promised and because I had stopped doubting his promises sometime around the fourth Wednesday afternoon. I had decided patience was the right response — not the passive patience of someone waiting to be managed but the active patience of someone who trusted the person enough to let the timing be theirs within reason. Ten days was the outer edge of reason.