wipesfaith | 05 [written/action]

[He doesn't know what time it is when he startles awake, just that it's still dark and the sensations pressing into him - his flesh pulling apart as he sinks deeper into water or blood or rock so hot it's liquid fire he doesn't know what but he can't breathe anymore - are more like memories, and they linger in his waking more sharply than any nightmare. Propping himself up on his elbow, trying to steady his breath, he looks across the gap between his bed and Marco's.

Pale moonlight reflects off the white of the bare mattress.]

Marco...? Hey...

[He already knows no one is there to hear him. It sinks in him like a rock dropped in a pond, with little ripples expanding to ones that reach much farther. Looks like that's all the borrowed time he'll get.

He switches on the light as he reaches for his journal, like it might prove him wrong. It doesn't. He sinks back down into the pillow. Weakly punches the mattress. Runs his hands through his sleep-disheveled hair. Squeezes his eyes shut. Turns the light off again, eventually. But he doesn't sleep much.]

[Then, at a more reasonable hour...]

[Written - Locked to Erwin and Levi]

I have a report to make, sirs. I discovered Marco Bott of the 104th training class to be missing early this morning. His things are gone too and his name isn't registered on the journal network anymore, leading me to conclude that he's returned home.

There's nothing else out of the ordinary to report at this time.

[This is so much easier to get out in writing. Immediately after, he'll make a more casual public announcement, because he probably ought to.]

[Written]

Marco Bott went home.

[Where he will die, and no one will see, and no one will take the time to give him a proper burial because in the end, there is nothing to distinguish him from the scores of corpses that will be reduced to little but bone fragments and ashes and lingering memories. There's a long pause that won't be reflected in the written message, as he tries to think of something worthwhile to add and fails.]

Just thought people should know.

[But some time later, an addendum will appear at the bottom of the message:]

Anyone know anything about raising sheep?

[Action]

[When he's not training at the Battle Dome or caring for his horse at the stables (recently, he's been going out for longer leisure rides, and today won't break the habit), Jean can be found at the small pen erected outside the Flame Building, where he wonders what the hell to do with the now morbidly fluffy lamb it houses. Aside from slaughtering it and eating like a king, because Marco would've gotten all offended at the suggestion. Speaking of Jean's distasteful, overdone jokes, the lamb in question probably looks a bit miffed that he's here instead of its proper owner.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Used people noticing the arm first Evan ignored the blatant stare.]

Ah sorry, him then. [He turns and looks at Jean, frowning slightly.] Oh I see... That's rough.

[There really isn't much he can say to that. He doesn't want to think about what would happen if Ginia just left... or if he did.]

Ah, pardon my manners. The name's Evan. [He offers his hand to shake.]

[He shrugs off the perfunctory sympathy, because he's fine. He's fine. He's dealing with it. He's not the one hurt most by Marco's absence, because he's still alive.]

Jean. [He completes the handshake, keeping it brusque. Enough hints have been laid out that he can hazard a guess and still be pretty damn sure of himself, so he'll ask:] You know Ginia, right?

[Of course he's fine. Evan side eyes the kid a bit at the shrug, but decides it really isn't his business.

The name sparks his memory. SO this must be one of the allies Ginia has gained in Luceti.] Yup, we're rooming together. So you're Jean. Ginia mentioned you,. Must say it's nice to put a face to the name.

[Evan gives a friendly smile.]

[His eyebrows flex upward on their own, just a little, at the casualness with which he drops that rooming comment. Don't mind him, he's just old-fashioned. Come on, the calendar says 845 back where he's from.]

Yeah...nice to meet you. Ginia said you were a friend of hers from back home. [Actually, she hadn't. Jean had put the word in her mouth, and she simply didn't deny nor confirm it.]