Hawke's journal

-=He's quiet on the PCD, his arms free of any leather bindings so he can look at all the long, thing lines on his arms. Scars. Self inflicted scars. He's touching them, brows knit together in attempts to remember them.=-

I know why these are here, but I do not know when they came to be. They look old.

-=He glances up to the PCD, a stoic expression on his face.=-

And I have this creature in my house. I know him. I have named him. But I have not met any other creature here before like him.


-=He tilts his head slightly, trying to push the uneasy thoughts aside.=- Perhaps it is another event and I do not understand why.

-=He's been up for hours now, pacing back and forth. He's restless, almost too anxious to sit still.=-

I should not be here. I need to go. I need to go back home.


-=the muttering's to himself as he stares out the window, hugging himself. He hasn't even put a come through his hair yet, and it's a frizzed mess around his face and shoulders.=-

They must be worried sick about me.



[[Hawke has lost memory of his human family, and only remembers the Faunlyn and the mountain. Expect him to be jumpy and suspicious of people here, and only slightly less so with people he does have CR with.]]