Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20181211225019/@comment-30014014-20190102055731

"Woah..." Prad's steps within continue on nearing the center gifted with the presence of the tree devoid of leaves. They then gravitate at one in orbit on the other, extending his sight at a 360-degree vision, his head in a gradual rise "How many books are in here?"

Though he knows through the presence of his spectator that such a question doesn't weigh as much as the next he utters, a different shift in his eyes "How ancient are they? Do they rise in receding dates?..."

His heart skips a beat as he lets slip a question he didn't think to ask "Is there...one about him? About...the Circadian ages?" The last words slipped out of him, the immense weigh he barely scratched anchors him. It does so with the innumerable ages that serve as a gap between him and him. Prad's can't endure his weighted stare and drops to a knee, a hand plastered on the bare floor, clutching his heart.

His eyes change iris, glassed in a malevolant sight as the vision that feeds his sense. Gray is the glass that lines beyond him, shading everything in a colorless silence.

"Is this one of the things you sought to know?" The shadow of the man in the wall hangs directly over the downed Prad, leaning toward him "You wish to learn of the Cakra Jarana? The age of my upbringing? One of your most coveted wishes...to what end..."