Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190114001113/@comment-30014014-20190128182234

"Poor child...blind in his belief he had become another individual entirely, based on his removal of identity..." The shadow under his feet stretches to the nearest wall, a black ink dotted with miasma eyes, watching as the smoke that seeps from the gaps begin to take its toll on the young man.

His body is robbed of this 'borrowed' strength, replaced with empty hourglass. The armor starts falling off by itself, to the wearer's dismay "No...no,no,no...no now! Please, I just need a minute...j-just a minute..."

"And now that the mask crumbles under the shattered delusion, he seeks to bargain for mere seconds of illusion, cursing his own sense of self..." Slowly, the armor peels off Prad's cloth, almost as if never worn to begin with, repulsed by the one that wears it, returned to the sender. In this case, the glass container.

He raises his arm, seeking more of this...wrap. Alas, the smoke that so failed to make itself present to him returnes in force, freezing the limb from which it seeps from. He had no control over the borrowed powers of his. He couldn't hope to have it tethered unto himself.

A frail realization as he drops to his knees, his shroud cloaking on his face. The shadow that watched on the wall...now turned behind the lethargic young man, once again in gripes over the thoughts that always clouded his mind. It watches, all aware of the undead Lord's awareness to this "...sorry spectacle"