Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20191120203148/@comment-30014014-20191202001626

@Hound

The hands that touch her...withered.

Those that cup the faintest of her fur were dismantled by the armored man's returned touch. One that proves to be...overhwelming to the grudged dead.

Every movement Roda makes, the new entity mimics, acting on her behalf. The shriek of despair and hope, more than enough for him to bar the distance of planes. She walks his shadow, drawing closer to the ensnared young man, possessed still.

By strenght of her tone, the new man clads a hand on her arm, guiding it, moving it. The claw of the dead, they shiver, moving their long deceased resentment away. Their hollow whispers of hate, replaced by pleading tones.

[Just like this, reach into him as your voice did] The armored man speaks, guiding her arm deeper in the sludge of malice until...

''[You have him. Now, pluck his essence from the abyss of his tormentor. I shall deal with the gray one] An orange light shines in his palm, awaiting the bubbling restlessness. His efforts. His presence. His words. None of them had gone unnoticed..''