[Voice] (Sorry to be spamming you all ._. I swear I'll stop!)

[i_love_squats]

[When Zack's Forge turns on, there's nothing but the slow and steady breathing of a person who's still half-asleep, caught and nestled somewhere between waking and dreaming. It goes on for a minute, perhaps two, the long drawn out silence of nothing, until a half-conscious and thick voice finally speaks. The tone is flat, the speaker still fast asleep though talking, and the words have a hint of a slur at the edges. Relaxed. Calm. Nothing.]

Can't see him, but I feel him. He's heavy. Heavy. Not weight, but something else. [There's a shuddering breath, and the voice that started to get emotion quiets once again. Half-asleep. More than, really.]

He's got red eyes. In our Arena, he's got red and black eyes that cut. One hand has a sword. The other has something thin and broken, made of cloth and metal. There's a design on the metal, but I can't--I can't make it out.

[Another sigh, half frantic.]

He's so--so heavy.

[There's a growl, low and heavy, before his breath catches and lodges in his throat. Blankets rustle as he sits up in bed, and he's panting, shaking off the dream. Fingers paw at the Forge clumsily, and the words--]

-must've knocked this on by acciden--

[--are chopped off as he cuts the transmission.]