Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20180927015912

He didn't know them after, did he...

Prad turns back to the scene. The metal man and his famished 'protégé'. The dragon surrounded by white coats. The hybrid and undead left to their own thoughts. He knew none, nor their war.

He sighs, further drifting from the scene. Could he even lend a hand? He wasn't the original called after all. And now, he was adrift as to how to speak with the gray man. Doubt makes him wonder whether he should even bother. A stranger to the rest he is. The piece that does not fit. The one who belongs not.

He drifts further, away from the group. His path is split, both clouded by fog. Depart. Remain. No hypothesis could formulate a semblance of relief. He is, to a lack of words, by himself.