Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20181124044003

Prad keeps his only net of safety, unsure how far the palace's regent was willing to restrict his personel from striking at the young man. The man in the wall walks behind in his little fold, watching with amusement at Prad's attempts to hide "Your stalker's walk is futile. Remember the walking corpses are nocturnal creatures".

Ohh how aware he is of this. It was, for a lack of words, the only thing keeping him alert, considering the gray man's words about sacrifice. He had, to his word, evolved from a sacrificial lamb to a tool, to be used until broken. As such, conversation was to avoid.

Instead, he goes to the armory, hoping to see it empty. He remembers the man in the wall's interest toward the suits. Perhaps getting his attention elsewhere could allow him to relax just a bit.

As if he was reading into the young man's mind, the man in the wall turns to yet another suit, another relic of the past eons. He stops ahead of one, glaring at the inert piece "How quaint..."