Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190114001113/@comment-30014014-20190214205711

''“I can hear your thoughts sputtering about. You feel compelled to speak words of comfort to this feral thing...”'' Prad in the wall glares at the departing nurse, mourning by her own. His arm branded in metal shakes subtly. A brief shift occurs, prompting Prad to tumble forward.

Turning back, he can see the gray man gazing back, it slowly turning back to the graves of his kin. Their kin '”Go then. Go measure your apathy for your own. I will remain with our fallen...”'

Prad’s current demeanour broke from the placidity he yielded to. He felt horrible for the dead, be they human or otherwise. His empathy sees him wince in lament with the thought to return. Right now, however, there was another in crude need for a fellow mourner.

He picks up the pace, reaching Roda but not quite speaking. This event had no true word he could broker in comfort. His arm, now devoid of the metal, lights up in a small flame, if only to slightly erode the pungent smell of the burnt.