Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190114001113/@comment-30014014-20190218041951

To be frank, it was unlikely that he could make his way back to his rented room, either because watching mass people die is somewhat unconventional for him or because sending another who just laid witness to the same thing to spend a night alone clashed with his thoughts.

Either way, the chair he borrowed sounds more and more inviting with every step they cross...

---

His anger abaited, the gray man turns from the direction the two distance themselves from him. This...alien sensation, it was a curious one to him. Coursing around his hands like a jet of wind, he looks toward the young man again, far from him. The deep connection, still presence, able to feel him, as he could form beyond.

However, seeing through his gaze, an impossibility, his more direct link to him, cut away. As if someone had plunged scissors on the strings of his puppet.

Instead, two appear, and disappeared. Here, and not here. Presence, and none-presence. Drifters. Ever to their master's side, or the boy's in the interim of his non-presence, they seek the young man out, to act as his gaze, as his mind returns to the dead. His dead kin.