Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20180705012838

Prad takes two steps, having followed his hollow shape of misery. He then stops dead in his track and takes a good long look around him. His eyes, once scorn and indifference, are somewhat subversive to the state of grief. While nowhere near the stage of open sadness, he looks at each and every skeleton present as if they were alive.

The state of an old soldier. An ancient soldier who had failed his people, he puts his knees on the ground. His hunt for the remaining gemini, cast aside...for now.

"I have ignored your pleads for so long..." he starts speaking, an orchid gem placed before him by his metal hand. Slowly, colors of the same shade pour out the remains to the ground, shaping into the vague figures of whom they once were. They walk like undead, drawn by the gem, stopping so close to it and the man, casting their non-existent eyes at him.

"No more" he ends, getting himself up. The spirits drawn from their remains slowly approaches him, fingers in the air. They...embrace him, in the numbers. Prad himself takes one of the spirit in his arm, as if he was consolidating an infant, his state of that a dotting parent. Visible to naught but his eye, yet the presence heavy, they merge with the man, his gauntlet gleaming of a pale purple with each spirit faded within it. The state one itself brings others to it, welcomed to the same fate...