Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190114001113/@comment-30014014-20190223061022

Blurs in his mind.

A semi-lucid dream, one of another life, one without the violet.

A path granted in partiallity by something, someone.

A hand hovering over his delicate form, nails mirroting a blonde and purple mix.

A ribbon wrapping the hand from beyond the palm, golden and pure.

The fingers, coated in a fierce and plentiful aura of darkness.

Both dedicated to his safeguard as they willingly act on the whim of the fingers and the palm, merged in a shade of brigth gray.

Shackles continuously striking at the young man. Burned by the light, devoured by the darkness.

Repelled by both. Yet the hand now cups the man, to lift him upward, a signal of his fading dream, ended in no sudden awakening, the shackles ever kept far from his thought flesh.

Prad slowly wakes up, devoid of the impromptu jolt back to reality as he was so used to. A true dream was manifested, a gentle awakening was granted. His waking eyes see the silver glare of she who once pulled his hands from the abyss of sunder and galvanization.

"Ohh..." He sees the same lady lulling him awake in a manner most favored by monsters, an act he had no heart to protest "Needed? Right, right--oh right! Good morning..."