[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]

[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?

[Voice]

[faterecanted]

The situation his handled. [slurs the mighty General.

It would be just too convenient if Dist did attempt to help... and then the snake tried to claim Van owed him for it.]

[Voice]

[its_rose_damnit]

[Boo, you saw through his clever and well-thought out plan. Nonetheless, Dist nods and accepts that Van's not going to be seeking any other help than the one he already asked for.]

Very well, Commandant. Stay in good health.

[Or don't. Dist honestly doesn't care much, and will leave it at that. He gives a final sneer to the image in his journal before shutting it and busying himself with something else. He really doesn't need to spend the day concerning himself about Van's well-being.]