Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20181003031159

(Blame the man in the fold for that one. Buuut...I'd admit I'm surprised you decided to persist in this.)

Fear had its firm grasp on the poor boy, shackled to it, vision twisted into a den of horrors. The fear of those surrounding him. The fear of the one nesting his head under her guard.

And yet...her distance set something...The man in the fold, if ultimately in control of the shackle, the words she used to echo to the man, an alien concept to him. Care? Help? Nuture?...

Beyond his grasp, for just a moment, Prad's eyes washed from the orchid, revealing his gray irises. His own words back in the realm of the vampires, his confrontation against his 'provider'. They return to his side, mind clear. All his strength, all his will, driven to his least broken arm, used to secure a feeble grasp on the lady. His fear had undoubtebly scorn such a being, who, like much of her kind, are cultured to an age of concilliation rather than separation. Battered as he is, he can see it.

The man in the fold sees it, intrigued, but, his intrigue, much more of a confusion. HIs own vision, beset by the young man, faith to those of this world. He keeps his silence, pondering to understand clouding his ancient mind. Curious...but bewildered.

"Please...I'm fine with you present...it brings calm to the tempest of agony strainding my mind" he weeps, unable to hold back on pain as he musters every ounce of will to move his arm to her side "...yours words...they bring calm...my sight, my auditary senses...all twisted by the old one's coming..."

With the struggle, comes the end of his strength, his battered arm leaving her own, his head slumbering to the left. His eyes, gray, away from the man in the fold, who looked back, a mirror to another plane. He knows not what besieged him this contradiction, yet those present, could hear his speech. Jagged, but derived of fear. A genuine plea...