Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20181124082220

"Ohh..." Prad silences himself, an errand beyond the very closing words. What went through for him to speak at his most frank, he forgot. But, for the time being, a new sensation washes over him. Much like the brief relief he experienced under the werewolf Roda, another emotion unearthes itself, far from fear, away from terror, distanced from horror: empathy.

Alas, this clarity is snuffed out like a candle as his eardrums are filled with the sardonic laughter of the man in the wall. A laughter cutting deep into the young man's heart. A laughter full of apathy, his metallic gloves clapped against each other in a deliberate way "I must be part of a theater. Surely this is an illusion. A comedic piece such as this was the very last path I had expected to witness. A foul beast, claming a human emotion split in two..."

He shakes his head while repeating his false applause, the sound loud in his plane of existence, deaf to all but Prad "I must admit, little one, you've come to be right to present the argument for a stay. Never would I have thought to be entertained by a belligerant trying to mimick the emotion of those it slaughtered. While claiming to had have a mortal woman by its side. A prenium punchline. Behold..."

His unnerving claps cease, his hands now gestured at Armata in the same way one may expect a curtain's fall "...behold, a proud member of a derelict covenant, one who has lived for eons, ever happy to step over the bones of our kind given to servitude, trying to grovel with crocodile tears, stumbling in a world alien to it, to its kind, trying to process emotion other than hunger and arrogance. Ohh, how vigorating would it be to cast a mirror to its ancestors. Or perhaps, even the genesis to their wretched kind. To see its face disfigured by the disgust, a prized moment...