Hawke's journal

-=Guess who pops up on the PCDs in the pre-dawn light! He's dirty with what looks like reddish-brown mud, still mostly naked, and looks positively exhausted. There are fresh, thin, red lines down the insides of his forearms, but they look more like red marker lines than what they really were. Hawke's lockjaw has become a beast of burden and is hauling not only Hawke's gear, but some animals that have been hunted.=-

-=Hawke speaks something in his own language, not caring that the musical lilt won't be understood by people here. And then a moment later he gives a loose translation.=-

I am home. I have brought meat, but I do not have the strength to finish preparing it. And I would need a bath, first.

-=Death. He can smell the blood in the air, even though he can't see it. His face is hard, much harsher than anyone has known here, and he remains still as he looks at the screen. He's still shirtless, his hair free flowing on some breeze.=-

This is enough.


-=It's unclear as to whom he's speaking to, but the black tip of his obsidian knife comes into view and makes one tiny mark under his eye. It looks like he's crying blood now, only that the blood just curls under his chin and continues the march down his throat instead of dripping carelessly.=-

A deal. I will make a deal if you stop this madness. This death-these dreams. One simple thing, and it will stop.

-=On this sunny day, Hawke is walking back towards the clinic with the PCD held loosely in his hand. You can't see much of his face, since it's in his grasp. There are these strange tendrils of red that keep dripping over the camera portion of the PCD, sometimes blocking out the view or giving it a pink tinge. It's kind of like looking at the world through a lava lamp.

No sound comes from Hawke except the crunching of his sandals on the ground and a breath, here and there. Whether he's upset or not is hard to tell. The PCD focuses on a white thing on the ground, a small, baby bunny. Hawke walks past it without pausing and the hungry little creature leaps up to attack. The leap is cut short as a thin rope of writhing red snaps out and wraps itself around the bunny's neck, not even bothering to give it time to make its death scream as a 'crack' indicated the neck was snapped. The red thing drips for a moment before it hauls the bunny up out of view, and there's the sound of Hawke shifting something in his hand.=-

Fresh meat for dinner.

-=The feed cuts out, leaving Hawke's deepened, gravelly voice hanging on the feed.=-