Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-29461586-20150525042832/@comment-5614539-20150525070909

Alyn sat in a room in the inn, trying to write a letter in the flickering candlelight. He looked down on the paper, and his frozen hand, before a tear rolled down his cheek, and he gripped the charcoal he was writing with so tightly it shattered in his hand. He then balled up the piece of paper, sending it flying across the room before disintegrating it with a flash of light. He let out a roar of frustration. This was so much harder than it had to be. He slammed his hand down on the desk, so hard he left four grooves where the spikes on the back of his gauntlet were. He let out another roar of frustration before slumping back into his chair.