Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20180921041643

Prad's gaze weights down. Two months. Two months to muster anything. Two months to heal all wounds. Two months to try and convince him.

Despite his predilection, his broken state, hearing of this...among so many people. Innocents, even amidst undeads. Surely his judgement on this world would change. At least in partiality.

Thoughts, countless thoughts begin to filter through the young man's mind. This war was not their to fight, did he said. That they are but spectators. Spectators to what? An impending massacre? Surely can he see this situation has gone out of control...can he? Or does his distance separates his empathy from those entitled here? Prad knows not what he could say. Panic begins to swell...at his returning uselessness...