[How long has he...? Shikamaru doesn't ask, but glances to find the date this entry was made. Which he should have done earlier. Twenty-eighth. Been a few days. Day after Moro.]
Aa.
[He's numb. It's been a few hours, and the fight is still boiling in his blood, but the adrenaline is clearing enough that he's free to think about other things again.
Not all of his friends came back unscathed. None of them died (except the one you helped kill, ha) but not all of them are safe yet. Like Silver. And now that he has the time to think of it, like ice seeping into his veins realization is catching up to him.
That draft was horrible.
And he just sits on the couch, thinking like that. He's not sure how much time has passed when he remembers the journal is still open on his knee.]
...okay.
[Dumbly. And then with fingers that don't feel like they're attached to him, he shuts the journal.]
voice; October 31
Aa.
[He's numb. It's been a few hours, and the fight is still boiling in his blood, but the adrenaline is clearing enough that he's free to think about other things again.
Not all of his friends came back unscathed. None of them died (except the one you helped kill, ha) but not all of them are safe yet. Like Silver. And now that he has the time to think of it, like ice seeping into his veins realization is catching up to him.
That draft was horrible.
And he just sits on the couch, thinking like that. He's not sure how much time has passed when he remembers the journal is still open on his knee.]
...okay.
[Dumbly. And then with fingers that don't feel like they're attached to him, he shuts the journal.]