Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-30014014-20180506022647

Pulled down under the brass of armor and weight, Prad still holds on to the dagger, his eyes sheltered in an almost closed fashion. All he currently could see was the swath of flames scorching the air itself. And yet, even that was growing dim.

His irises slowly washing in a dull purple, ignoring the heat, as right now, considered as nothing more than white noise. His vision, occupying most of his sensation, knitted to the floor by the armored man, for now, stripped of his other senses.

His vision conjures up a low pitch wind humming. The color he sees, washing to gray, a different plane of sight. The landscap is not changing, Prad's eyes are seeing elsewhere. In here, the vision Praetor had witness once, back. A shadow sporting a humanoid form, distinguished only by the fiery glow of its orchid visor filling each eye socket.

Slowly, he squats down to the two, a hand lowered for Prad. While Praetor could not afford seeing the intrusive landscape like the young man, the shadow was well visible to his eyesm unlike the rest of the room's occupants.

The shadowy hand touches the dagger Prad is cradling in his hands. A small socket of lightning as he once wielded is transfered, quickly before the vision fades away. The sight of this 'plane' dies in a whisper, Prad's irises reverting back to his typical gray...