001; death may come invisible, or in the holy wall of fire

[kickhopping]

[The SFC clicks on to reveal an excellent shot of the sky, such as it is--it's turned camera-side-up and pointing straight at the watery dome overhead. At length, a face leans into view. The owner of the SFC has scruffy black hair, and his eyes are dark, with deep circles under them. He's a little too thin, and his voice is low and lazy.]

Hn. Somewhere new.

[He leans back out of view, sighing. He sounds inexpressibly exhausted.]

Still cold, though. Still no aibou. So it's not like it matters...