Jean Kirstein (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wipesfaith) wrote2014-06-06 12:08 pm
wipesfaith) wrote2014-06-06 12:08 pm
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.]
[action]
[He means the lamb, of course.]
[action]
At Jeb's question, he sighs into the pen. He won't be a dick and call him out on the weak shift in topic, because he doesn't want to talk about it either. It happened, and it's chewing away at him, and he doesn't know what to say other than the same things over and over again. It didn't feel right.]
This is Mario. We're not friends. [Because this is an important detail.]
[action]
[Which would make Mario his pet, right? And pets are friends! This makes perfect sense in Jeb's mind.]
[action]
[He's probably definitely exaggerating the lamb's dislike for him, seeing as the excessive head-butting comes from a lack of woolly playmates to mess around with.]
[action]
[action]
[In rebuttal, Mario comes running for the fence on his little legs and slows up to butt his head against the wood. Jean turns his attention back to Jeb.]
I'm told getting his balls cut off will calm him down. [Dry humor and dead seriousness rolled into one.]
[action]
[He's still approaching, but a little slower now. He looks back to Jean in return.]
Well, maybe! I know that's the case with cats. Not that I've had to worry about that with the cat I have here... [Since, uh. Marie's a girl.]
[action]
We thought this thing was a girl for a while, wish we were right about that.
[action]
[Haha... ha...]
I guess he's tougher to handle as a boy, huh?
[action]
[action]
[A brief pause.]
...animals can also sense when you're not completely comfortable with them, too.
[action]
His hands find the rail again.]
You been drawing much lately?
[action]
[In other words, he's afraid of what his creative mindset might produce at the moment.]
[action]
Just draw things you can see in front of you, then.
[action]
[He looks to Mario.]
Do you think I could draw him sometime?
[action]
Go ahead, knock yourself out. He probably won't sit still for you.
[action]