Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20191120203148/@comment-30014014-20191205052009

@Everyone

Prad awakes, still wolven in his damaged suit. The metal underneath still grinds behind his movement, rusted at the joints even as most of it still hides behind the white mantle of another face.

He wakes with a long tiredness. The long strain of a man who have yet to fully realize tthe absence of his cut strings. Hollow chains that no longer puncture his body.

He strays from the sofa, having prefered its discomfort out of a tormentor's personal touch. Beds had long felt undeserved to him. He wanders close to the mirror. Winces his eyes, looking intently into it. They dart left and right, up and down, diagonally in-between direction.

Slowly.

Normally.

Quickly.

"Where is he? I'm sure it was a..." Three years. Three years he was bound to his yoke. There was no way he was free. Yesterday was but a dream. Nothing more than the illusion of his sundered mind. A trick from the projection. A fallacy. A denial.

Prad places his exposed arm against the mirror, looking closely. "Where are you..."