Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-30014014-20180527042143

Lightning snaping in an instant. The cold dagger pulsating in his hand its malevolant pollution, almost laughing. The fingers clenched around its hilt, shaking in a pattern alien to terror.

The man's eyes, drafted into a harrowing gaze. It returns back to the man of metal "Yea...nevermore". He speaks in a very calm way, removed from the usual bath of caution he bears. The dagger rattles no more, slowly reunited with the pocket from which it dwells.

As its shiny metal is sundered form the world, Prad's eyes turns yet again, all too quick for anyone to realize, bent back to their original state. But, being who he is, the shadow Praetor had once seen over the young man, manifests. Swelled into life only to fade in the same second, were he to observe, a hand of smoke washed over Prad's wrist in a delicate manner. The other, on his opposite shoulder. Naught more than two eyelids staring down at crouched drinker, all before the armored man, who's sight only he could muster around the young man...

Prad eventually gets himself up, the sensation all gone. "Hopefully, we can avoid the mistakes of the previous encounter", he speaks, his voice lacking the subtle timber that customizes his personality.