Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-30014014-20180502045443

Prad is not far behind, altough he is a certain distance from the group. An elongated scarf is present around his neck, a way to mask part of his face or perhaps make himself shrink a little amidst the darkness. His hands still revolt at the mere thought of lightning, wrapped under a gray set of bandages, yet the small scent of burnt flesh still resonates around them. Healing is slow and methodical.

Leaving but a fraction of his presence, his only ally. His ears can pick their conversation, with the silence surrounding him. Each time they walk, he walks so. They stop, he stops. He is foreign to their subject, understanding impossible from the young man. His actions still fresh in memories, distance was, to his eyes, the only mend, for now...