[The screen flicks on to a man lying in a bed. It's not in the Clinic, no, but for the first few moments, it seems as if he might as well be. There are bandages on his arms and torso--bare but for the yellow, buttonless jacket--as well as the few scrapes on his face ( Read more... )

( Who you really are. Cut for blood, violence and murder )

[Thanks to Lupin, he's getting a bit better at this typing thing, but it still takes a while to post the message. His thoughts are distracted, and it would be easier to speak them than write them out, but he prefers it nonetheless. For now, anyway.]

How does one regain a lost purpose ( Read more... )

if anyone knows how to type and would be willing to teach it

id like to learn

[It's taken Scar quite a while to type out this message. All of it is correctly spelled for once, but it's devoid of capitalization or punctuation altogether. But it was a valiant attempt nonetheless ( Read more... )

[The feed comes on at an awkward angle, as if having fallen from someone place. Still, it shows a view of a room. An empty room, at that, and those few that have been inside Scar's apartment will know that it is the room of the little girl that lives with him. Or lived, by the look of it. There's a thump, and the owner of the Forge suddenly becomes ( Read more... )

[Well, here's Scar, and he...doesn't look very good. At first his eyes are closed, and his breathing is a little...heavy. He's also a bit pale--though it's not quite easy to tell, due to his skin tone--and if one is looking closely, they might notice the slight sheen of sweat on his face and neck ( Read more... )

[The feed opens to a view of its owner. Now an adult again, that scar has faded, as has that young man's panicked terror. His posture is still a bit tight, but there is a certain weariness to it. His gaze lingers at some point offscreen before a quiet sigh can be heard, and the video switches off, leaving only audio.]...It lasted longer this time, ( Read more... )

[The video comes on with a clatter--its owner seems to have knocked the nightstand on which it was kept. The feed, despite the awkward angle, shows said owner clearly, and it is not a child this time, but a teenager. He's still young, not even eighteen, but in his eyes are both unbearable weight, and terror of one who thought he was going to die ( Read more... )

[A curious red eye fills the screen for a moment before its owner remembers to retract the screen to its proper distance, and the rest of a small boy's face can be seen. He's about ten, and wearing the same orange and brown desert robes as before.]

Anatoly? 'M back?

Hi guys!

[...]

[Wait a second.]

They forgot to bring Brother again!

[SUPER ( Read more... )

( All those years...you had merely been living. )