Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20181025043731

(The man in the wall giving her hebby jebbies?)

Alone in this room, on what his phantom visitor assumes to be a desolate land, his hand unlikely to act in his behalf, Prad tries to regulate his breathing in a typical pattern. His body fights the mind's will, prone to quick burst of air, all in the name of discomfort.

"Do you know the anology of grass?" the man in the wall asks his haunted host, watching from the window. Prad's gaze depicts him as an intruder to the land, alas inexistant as existant. The man in the wall turns slowly, raising a hand to the window "I ask because I'm curious. This land doesn't seem to be keen on the natural hair of the world. And yet, these people seem to be able to feed with plenty..."

The young man knows this watcher had bleak statements to deliver, watching him walk from the window in his direction "...the way this feral beast is treating you, such a sickly, aching man. That has me thinking. Perhaps your fear concerning her feeding habit is uneeded. Perhaps she does seem keen on restoring your vigor..."

By the time he had uttered his gutteral sentence, the man in the wall was by Prad's right side, glaring own on the man. Prad awaited it. And yet, it stang as if he had not forseen it "Do you know the analogy of grass? Well, back in the old days, they used to say that grass..."

HIs mind knew the words he was to sentence "...grew better on blood. Battlefield gourged with butchered individuals or sacrificial lambs passing as civilians grew the food for monsters. At least in the past, assuming they didn't outright consumed the prisoners. Is this animal intent on nuturing you? Or grooming you? There is no grass in this land, little one..."