Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190303210034/@comment-30014014-20190322143634

Deeply merged in the background of their focus, Prad's interest turns to his hand. A hand clad in metal, brittle with sparks. Sparks turned to an arc. An arc turned to assembly.

An assembly that coagulates and solidifies to a crystal. A singular crystal shaped as an oval, one with edges sharpened to microscopic spikes instead of a smooth curve. It glimmers with a certain light.

He rises from his seat, taking a second or two watching the people talk. And then, without as much as a word, he sees himself walking out. Walking from the people as he makes his way to the outside, where the sky is ripe with destruction, still holding his crystal.