02 [written / action]

[pretty_fascist]

[After having a lengthy and rather pitiful fight with the southern barrier, Dilandau has returned to the village alone, looking significantly more depressed and resigned. The first place he wanders into is, of course, the Good Spirits Bar. He silently curses what he thinks is a stupid name. Regardless, he proceeds to order glass after glass of red wine, staring idly into space, occasionally drumming his fingers impatiently on the bar, as if waiting for something, before zoning out again. He finally glances down at the journal, just now remembering it. Again, he just stares at it for a while, as if contemplating what to do with it. Then he decides to write something.]

I hate this place. [The handwriting is legible, but lazy, and he's obviously not very elegant with words.]

[... Bother him, people.]