Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-30014014-20180602033256

Prad takes a gander at the group, perched on his own over a rock.

A campfire, in the cold darkness. A simple but effective way to warm the souls of those sitting by it. A way to set aside the troubles that may plague one's mind, as to offer a new perspective. Much like the journey they were taking on. A way to burn away the rough lines of discomfort.

But Prad stays still. He's too accustomed to the cold darkness of this plane to settle for warmth. Allowing himself to be overtaken by the fiery crackle of her flame would, in his mind, only serve to undermine him. He is used to this sentiment, only now.

Prad turns his visage away form the rest, to find comfort in his own thoughts. His shroud clutches to him, as to encourage this sort of behavior. He speaks no word, only inner paroles.