[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]

[faterecanted]

[Oh, he's injured, but it isn't the injury doing the talking. Frey will someday come to learn that Van is a proud, stubborn man.

...Although not an entirely senseless one, even if his knowledge of such situations does come from questionable experiences.]

You can't negotiate with someone who holds you worthless. We aren't people to them. Don't think they'd care to listen.

[voice]

[falenandawn]

I know that. But as I said, at the moment we haven't got any method of more direct attempts to change things.

[He knew very well how that worked. Very well indeed, though he's learned from simply existing rather then trauma.]