faterecanted | [Voice]

[Voice]

[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.)

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[... 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?

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?

[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.]

[...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?

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

[Ladies and gentlemen, our superhero.]

[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.]

[... 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.]

[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.

[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.

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