Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20181130032501

His hand goes from his hear to his face, covering about half of it. His eye conveys the wretched state in which he slept, the little he got. Slowly, he gets himself up, well aware of the knocking. His vision, full of dull colors, full of gray.

The man in the wall stands by the door. HIs black gauntlet holds a trashed noose swinging. Swinging, left. Swinging, right. Left. Right.

Left.

Right.

Prad clenches his teeth, its macabre sigil unfiltered. A step closer to his death warrant. One he was not intended on relieving him. The side of paranoia, fed en masse by the gray phantom.

"Knock, knock, little lamb" he speaks, a leering voice feeding the plane he inhabits "The wolf seeks the lamb. Knocks twice, it does. Knock, knock, little lamb..."

Prad makes a gesture with his least scorned hand, an arcane substance peering beyond to the knob, simulating the rotating item, opening the door. He turns to the window, a hand still on his face, fatigued.