Array 126 // Video
[Al's up, though it's late for him. He's usually up around dawn and everywhere in the city, gathering supplies, making deliveries, checking up on his many projects, everything from the bridges on the river to making the rounds and checking the City's walls.
This last week or so, he's been doing the same, but... something about him's slowed down a bit. He still does everything with the same effort, but something just isn't there.
The PCD is on its side, and by the sound of the crickets, and a backdrop of stars, it's in a window. The feed is dark but Al's got a sputtering candle next to him. Instead of a blanket pulled up over his head, there's something... different.
A dark cloak, with red, stylized clouds.
An Akatsuki cloak.
In Al's hand is another PCD, a little dusty, though it's hard to tell in the dark. He rubs his thumb across the screen, and it turns on, the lights inside it dull, as if it's burning out.
It must be very old, if it's doing that. Despite the machine being on, nothing registers on the network. Soft, scratchy whispers come through the PCD. Laughter, Al and others, though the words are extremely hard to make out because the volume is so low.
Al's face is... not sad. It's distant, tired, drained, but not... sad. As if he doesn't have the energy to feel anything about it, as if it's an old book he's read so many times, he knows every word, but he's pulled it out just to do something familiar.
After a few minutes, Al switches it off, and then reaches for his own PCD -- only to realize it's on. His eyes widen, and then he sighs, giving a half smile.]
I'm going to bed.
[And he reaches out to put out the candle.]
This last week or so, he's been doing the same, but... something about him's slowed down a bit. He still does everything with the same effort, but something just isn't there.
The PCD is on its side, and by the sound of the crickets, and a backdrop of stars, it's in a window. The feed is dark but Al's got a sputtering candle next to him. Instead of a blanket pulled up over his head, there's something... different.
A dark cloak, with red, stylized clouds.
An Akatsuki cloak.
In Al's hand is another PCD, a little dusty, though it's hard to tell in the dark. He rubs his thumb across the screen, and it turns on, the lights inside it dull, as if it's burning out.
It must be very old, if it's doing that. Despite the machine being on, nothing registers on the network. Soft, scratchy whispers come through the PCD. Laughter, Al and others, though the words are extremely hard to make out because the volume is so low.
Al's face is... not sad. It's distant, tired, drained, but not... sad. As if he doesn't have the energy to feel anything about it, as if it's an old book he's read so many times, he knows every word, but he's pulled it out just to do something familiar.
After a few minutes, Al switches it off, and then reaches for his own PCD -- only to realize it's on. His eyes widen, and then he sighs, giving a half smile.]
I'm going to bed.
[And he reaches out to put out the candle.]