[ - there's the low, distant wailing of the sirens. The feed bobs drunkenly, up and down, and there's the sound of someone retching off-screen; it weaves some more and the face of a very disoriented blond man comes into view. He looks shell-shocked; he doesn't realise that the journal he's writing on is recording. The pen trembles.]
What -
[He
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[He's seen victims of traumatic events before, and the man is showing some of the signs.]
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I'm - [pause, swallow, what was he going to say again?] - I am quite...all right, t-thank you -
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[stares blankly at the screen. no, not really registering there.]
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[He rests a hand on his hip, watching the other man.]
They come out at night. They keep coming, over and over, non-stop throughout that time. The siren that you heard foretold of their arrival.
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[his head falls down, exhausted, but he suddenly perks up, looking fairly feverish.]
Oz. Oz, have you seen a young boy? Green eyes, gold hair?
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What don't you understand?
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[he stops cold and goes off-screen to retch.]
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This is not your world. I don't understand the meanings behind a lot of things that happen here, but whatever these seals are, they're not here. They don't exist here. The Core must have done something to you.
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