Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190114001113/@comment-30014014-20190203051050

Alone in his room, once again. This time, of his own volution. Prad takes to the sleeves, the door barred and locked, to act as his isolator from the outside world. He saw what was to be taken form him before the right to bear any armor. He didn't like it, but it is to be, before anonymity.

He tugs his sleeves backward, showcasing his charred hands and galvanized arms, The least wounded of the two takes an aspect of metal around it, coiling. Ancient metal, wrought by thought and ancient designs. Loking forward once more, he sees the man in the wall, watching back from the wall. His arm...had disappeared.

"Your suffering will yield you the erasure from their presence. They will only scorch the surface. You will be hidden form their polluted sights..." The metal hand adorned over Prad's takes to the other, littered with smoke and burns. It passes over it, forcing the injuries out like naught but dust, left to fall and pile on the floor, burned away from the lack of purpose.