Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190303210034/@comment-25808351-20190618221929

“I think so.” Marcus takes a much needed moment to sit down and catch his breath.

Meanwhile Armata is alone in a sea of darkness. All around him is pitch black as the last remnants of his consciousness fights to survive. But he can not hold. Armata watches as his perceived body begins to crumble like dry clay. His legs give out and his torso hits the ground. His left hand falls apart, and with his right he drags himself toward the one light he can see at the end of the vast darkness. He tries desperately to make it toward salvation but gives up as his right hand breaks apart. Armata starts to cry bloody tears as the rest of his body begins to fall apart.

“I should have known. Even after all I have given, in my final moments would be devoid of comfort. No such thing as immoral.... Deidre, I am unwelcome in your resting place. May you find the peace in can not, and give me courage. For the first time in my life, I am afraid.” Armata rests his head to the ground, and chuckles.

“I will find my way to you, my dearest.” With his final words, the last remnant of the Crimson Puppeteer crumbles away to dust.