[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

[action]

[faterecanted]

[Van isn't actually difficult to find, propped up against a tree and covered with a light dusting of snow.

He's also clearly had a bad time of things. The Malnosso were kind enough to return his shirt with him; crumpled in his lap, instead of on him. There are wide rings of bruises around his arms at the joints, the sort that might be made by a person struggling violently against their bonds, well past the point when it began to harm them; which is, of course, exactly what happened. His hair is lank and stringy, and he clearly hasn't had a shave in far too long; something that's only highlighted by fact there is ink smeared across his face from the corner of his mouth, and gathered in droplets in his beard. There's a pen in his hand -- or between his fingers, rather, because they're much too red and swollen at the joints to do something like hold a pen. It used to be a very nice fountain pen, until he yanked the nib out with his teeth to get at the ink inside.

Whatever else she may think of her brother, he is a stubborn bastard.

He barely reacts to her presence, just stares at her for a moment, tired and resigned, before closing his eyes.

Now that she has come to help him, everything just hurts worse.]

[action]

[seleniahymn]

[Once he enters her vision her body tenses, seeing him – for lack of a better word – vulnerable in the snow. But Tear knows better, if the injuries across him are any indication of just how much strength and will her brother possesses, the amount of effort he put into resisting whatever it had been that the Malnosso had subjected him to. It was very alike to her own experience with them, during which she had found herself dealing with similar injuries when she was finally returned to the village. Now was not the time for dawdling though.]

... Van. [Quietly she takes in a deep breath and walks over to her brother's side, kneeling down and carefully registering each of the wounds in turn for how much healing she would have to do before he could be moved without risk. She raises her hand so that it hovers inches from his shoulder, calling for Nala's assistance to aid her instead of relying solely on using fonic artes, the familiar glow associated with casting First Aid spreading beneath her fingers.]

[action]

[faterecanted]

[Without opening his eyes again, he lifts his hand up (his shaky, inky hand) and places it on her knee. His fingers twitch and spasm occasionally, little movements that travel all the way up his arm to his shoulder.]

Just my head. I'll recover from the rest. [Although the flatness of his tone suggests that he may not want to.]

[action]

[seleniahymn]

[Just from watching the movements of his fingers on her knee and listening to his tone tells her otherwise. While it's true that Van may be able to recover from these injuries, it could take a long time and make things that much more difficult. She doesn't know just yet how long she will be assisting him, after all.

Instead of stopping she applies another First Aid, carefully watching him for progress.]