[The journal falls open just in time to catch a pained gasp, followed by some rather upset sniffling.] T-t-that hurt! B-but R-R-Rem said dreams aren’t s-suppose to hurt! It’s so cold. Rem! Kn-nives! [Finally the journal catches a glimpse of little Vash as he shakily tries to stand up in it‘s view. His trade mark spiky hair is gone. Instead it falls
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Y-y-yes. The s-ship to find a new h-home! [Give him a second. Snuggling into the clothes.] Where's R-Rem?
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V-village? [And finally taking note of those wings, he tears up a bit.] Are... a-are we dead?
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Yes. S-space.
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