Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20180621180308

Prad removes the sleeves of his coat, in a simple gesture to verify his arm. As she said, most of the burnt flesh, wiped, like a bad stain on a piece of clothing. The pain, lessened to a state of near-inexistance.

He clenches his fingers, a sensation of freedom unfelt in years. Unlike the past times where his injuries would heal, without ever wiping the pain, the freedom of this harrow, even for but its fleeting time, a jubilous event for Prad.

"Yes...yes..." he repeats, now standing, moving his fingers and arm as if they were new to him. They move to such a manner they did not before. Prad takes a deep breath, a heart-felt smile protusing form his face in an act of rarity. He bow formally before the dragoness "Thank you. This...this is good. Thank you..."

Prad genuinely hands the praise, the weight on his shoulders, removed for the first time since he came to this desolate land.

However...

Where he might be giving praise to one he feared before, were Praetor still gazing onto the young man, he could see it. Prad lifting his hand forward to Tirush in a display of gratitude. His jagged hand reaching for her motherly heart, in a land profound with jet black crosses. His hand, spiralling on itself as to mimick the act of evesciration. The Prad, as he removed his hands to place it on his shoulder, like a poised soldier in a salute, he violently swipes his claw, acting as a heart-remover before his fingers clench in the final act of hate...