Hawke's journal

-=Of COURSE the PCD flicks on. It's pre-dawn and the rooftop's currently occupied by gold scales and blond hair, waiting for the sun to come up. Two moons are low on the horizon, looking heavy and almost like punches of light through a black cloth. Hawke's safely nestled in Sohl's arms and lap, his face turned out to the heavens.=-

[I have greeted the sun every day here. The sun has not seemed as bright as he has been the past few days.]

-=The tone sounds sad, as if he's feeling that this isn't going to last.=-