[Voice]

[faterecanted]

[The first thing that appears in the journal is a big, thick ink smudge, sort of like it's been fingerpainted by large, clumsy hands -- because it has.]



[A few moments later, when it becomes clear it just isn't going to happen, Van speaks. His voice is a rough, dry croak. Either he hasn't spoken in weeks... or he's overused it to the point of ruin.]

Tear. ...Tear.

[A bit later still, when he realizes he's drifting off and he does not want to pass out--]

What day is it? [Not that the answer will mean anything to him, thrice-damned nonsense calendar.]


(OOC: Reluctant first aid reserved for Tear, but feel free to answer him. He'll talk, he just won't accept help from anyone else.)

Comments

[voice]

[seleniahymn]

[... She hadn't seen or heard from him since the draft, which for all intents and purposes she would rather not remember right now. But she couldn't ignore his voice, so obviously weary and distressed nor the fact that he had attempted to write her name. With a quiet sigh she rises from the desk in her room, getting ready to go to his aid even though she has little clues to his whereabouts.]

Can you tell me where you are?

[voice]

[faterecanted]

Filter first. [For a moment it must seem like that's all he's going to say, but then he thinks better of it. It won't kill him to be polite to his baby sister when demanding her help. Probably.] Please.

[filter - 73%]

[seleniahymn]

[A filter. Unfortunately, Tear has had little practice with that part of the journals because there has never been a need for her to implement them. But he had asked her, and was being polite about it – he truly did need her help, then.

Given a few minutes she manages the strongest filter she can, and while it might not deter those who truly want to listen in on this conversation it was better than nothing. She could make it stronger further on.] There. Now will you answer me?

[voice]

[falenandawn]

Van? [The writing, the questions -Why was he asking for Tear? Did they know each other?- the worn out voice.... it all quite clearly looked like something had happened to the man.]

It is the sixth of January. Are you alright?

[voice]

[faterecanted]

[Does he sound alright, Freyjadour?

Normally, he'd worry about looking stupid, asking questions even a child should know, but he's too worn out to care.]

When is January? [And it's a stupid calendar anyway.]

Re: [voice]

[falenandawn]

[No, he does not. Not at all.]

The first month of the new year.

Are you hurt? Do you need aid?

[voice]

[silversnowfall]

[Ah.

Writing she...recognizes. A bit. "Tear."

...She doesn't feel she can ignore even him, like this.]

The sixth, of the first month of the year. [Giving consideration to the idea that a Luceti calendar year is so short.]

[voice]

[faterecanted]

[Oh, it's that... woman. The... the... Actually, at the moment he's not entirely certain.]

It was the twelfth month when... [Well. Not going into that. But there is minor concern evident in his voice -- the sort of minor concern only a concussed Auldrant native might have, wondering if they'd just lost an entire 60 day month.]

[voice]

[silversnowfall]

Do you remember which day?

[At least she understands that concern.]

[Voice]

[distressedude]

[...it's too smudged to have been picked up by the journal's automatic translator, but Ion can still recognize those characters. He almost answers-- and then he hears the voice. It may have been weak, but it was still unmistakably Van. And he sounded hurt. Despite everything Van's caused on Auldrant, it wasn't as though Ion was going to just ignore a person who was in pain.]

It's been the new year for about a week now... [And despite having more or less surmised an answer--] Are you all right?

[Voice]

[faterecanted]

Nothing to concern you, Fon Master. [Says the man with a voice like he just gargled nails and shredded sandpaper.]

[Voice]

[distressedude]

[Yeah, Ion's not buying it. Especially given the what-is-so-obviously a call for help from Tear. Is that concern in his voice? Maybe a little. It's not that he cares about Van, but he certainly sympathizes with being dropped off in the snow by the malnosso to freeze to death.]

If you're unable bring yourself to a clinic, I doubt Tear will be able to carry you there herself. For your own sake, you should be truthful.

voice;

[alloys]

Why, it's Christmas day! You haven't missed it.

[Ladies and gentlemen, our superhero.]

voice;

[faterecanted]

[This would probably be more annoying to him if he had half a clue what Christmas is.

But even in his worked-over, concussed state, he can guess he's being mocked.]

How lucky. [He may sound annoyed, but bro, he ain't even mad. He'd mock him too.]

voice;

[alloys]

[That's it? He goes through all that effort to come up with a witty remark and that's all he get? Sheesh. Next time he won't even make the effort.]

You are. Christmas is the best day of the whole year. A fat man brings you presents and eats your cookies. And the bank is closed. What more could you possibly want in life.

[....]

[dissonates]

[Asch makes note of this; he can't help Van even if he wanted to, so responding is pointless, but he definitely does take note. So he was kidnapped- fine, abducted by the Malnosso, then?

Well. Good. And at the same time... not good. The fact that he even feels that secondary clash of emotions bothers Asch immensely, so after a moment his eyes narrow and he shuts the journal. He'd rather not think about that.]

[Voice]

[fabrecation]

[... It's Van. It's Van who got kidnapped, and now he's suffering.

Luke should not be feeling as torn as he is right now. Part of him wants to run out there and help him, and the other half blanches at the thought and stays where he is. But that's his master - no, he can't - but Van's hurt and he can't just ignore - Exactly, it's Van -

He does, at least, talk. He clenches his fist and is unhappy about it, but he does want to provide at least a little help. Although thinking of it that way sends half of him cringing again.]

It's the first month of the year. The first week of it. [Luke knows just as well as you how stupid the calendar is.]

[Voice]

[faterecanted]

[It's clear how sour Luke is about offering any sort of help, even to Van's currently concussion-addled mind. He chuckles darkly.]

Did you miss me, Luke?

[You'd think he'd mistake him for Asch, but no. Van always knows which one is which. Always.]

[Voice]

[fabrecation]

[Indignation flares up at that, and he takes in a deep breath to calm it down. Let's not even touch that, because he knows it'll just make him even more angry.]

... Is Tear coming to find you?

voice;

[mythmaker]

[There's a part of Azusa that thinks she remembers that voice. She isn't sure, but the pause is enough to make her reply.]

Ah, it's the sixth of January. ...You sound unwell.

voice;

[faterecanted]

Our hosts are less than gracious.

voice;

[mythmaker]

They have...unusual methods, that's for sure. [She has nothing to compare this to, though, so.] Are you in need of assistance...?

[Voice]

[its_rose_damnit]

[Oh. ...Well. This is certainly not what Dist expected to see on the journals today. He doesn't even think twice when the slow curl of a smirk turns into a nasty grin, nor does he think twice to turn off the audio when he laughs - both at the messy scrawl and the plea for help. And though he hates it, deep down, he does wonder where Van is, how badly hurt he is, and if his injury is treatable. Curiosity, mostly. ...Yes, curiosity.]

My, my...how the mighty have fallen. I do hope you've found help, Van, the loss would be so unfortunate.

[Voice]

[faterecanted]

If our captors want me dead, they'll need to try a little harder than this. [And so will you.]

[Voice]

[its_rose_damnit]

[Duly noted.] Now, Commandant, you'll give them ideas. It's best not to tempt our captors. You've just experienced firsthand their less than desirable form of hospitality.

[A pause, then...oh, god, he's really going to regret this. Through clenched teeth, with his eyes firmly shut--] ...Do you still require aid?