Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-30014014-20180612163053

Prad had his hands collided, his stare offering no shift. None, except his eyes. They slowly started to radiate in its malevolant orchid. The feuding was starting to get to his nerves. Constant yells and threats for the last minute that had passed. More than what he could take.

Clouds subtly gathering in the dark of the sky, as a hidden response to his state. He no longer daigned stare away, but gazes directly at the heart of this ceassless noise: the undead and the wyvern. A gaze cut from the fearful one he used to wear long ago, to his perceptive. Once again, they yell and flaunt words at each other, disturbing the silence he bathed in.

His hands rustling ever so slightly, they gain momentum with each second, seeing the act beyond observation unavoidable should this continue...