Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190303210034/@comment-30014014-20190308044640

Prad walks among the threads, entombed in his new armor. His movement is debilerate, yet far from the fraility in which he carries himself. His head remains snapped to the front, where he is to stand.

The hood of his armor is well-knitted over his helm. His hands are firm and clenched. Not a lick of emotion is felt beyond his second layer of metal flesh.

To whichever he is to remain, he eventually reaches, his head ever fixated on the front, though he may be letting his eyes wander a bit. Hard to see behind his helmet.