Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190114001113/@comment-25808351-20190205004253

(Everyone) Armata sits in an unassuming chair within his workshop, his crossed, his right hand playing with goatee, his eyes staring at a blank sheet of paper. The Living Doll sits on the desk, her legs dangling off the side, swinging back and forth.

“An armor for Prad.... Shouldn’t be too heavy, something he can move in, while keeping him protected. The trick will be his parasites power. I can not have Prad bring ruination to his arms during this fight. How to protect his arms, without disrupting his power output....” Armata looks to the Doll as he thinks.

“I don’t suppose you have any ideas?” He’s asks while letting his leg drop to the floor, his boot making a thud as it lands. The Doll looks at him blankly and shrugs. “What about you, little one? You haven’t even a name?”