11 [ accidental video/audio]
[a loud WHUMP is the first noise you're greeted to when the feed clicks on. the camera activates to show a sideways angle of a hospital room from the floor; evidently, it and the noise are the result of the NV being knocked askew from whatever table it's been resting on up until now. a pristine floor, sterile walls and the edges of white bedsheets are all you'll see for the next few minutes until a flesh colored flash slowly meanders its way over the lens. calloused fingers listlessly brush over the camera as if whoever-it-is is trying to identify the device through touch alone.
shakily, the NV is picked up from off the floor by the hand and swivels a little in its unsteady grasp. we're privy to a little more of the room--its ceiling, a window (closed, curtains partly drawn), more of the bed and the lumpy shapes resting underneath its covers--before one abrupt pivot (punctuated by a quiet damn rasped out) turns the camera on the hand's owner. or at least parts of him in quick flashes.
bruises splotching his face at odd angles, framing his eyes, most of them close to healing; a row of stitches running up the uppermost half of his left cheek and disappearing into his hairline; swollen jaw, puffy lips. the past week and a half hasn't been kind to Snake, but those who know him will have little to no difficulty identifying his face despite its current state amounting to little more than stitch work. his movements are sluggish and his gaze seems a little glassy be it from the medication feeding into his body via IV or due simply to the fact that this is the first time his eyes have been open since the 28th, but he looks self-aware enough.
upon seeing that the NV is recording, he opens his mouth as if to sigh but instead turns it off. several long moments later, the feed reactivates back to audio only.]
[slow, weary voice. too tired to really be fed up with the current state of affairs but too troubled to simply go back to sleep.] What day is it?
shakily, the NV is picked up from off the floor by the hand and swivels a little in its unsteady grasp. we're privy to a little more of the room--its ceiling, a window (closed, curtains partly drawn), more of the bed and the lumpy shapes resting underneath its covers--before one abrupt pivot (punctuated by a quiet damn rasped out) turns the camera on the hand's owner. or at least parts of him in quick flashes.
bruises splotching his face at odd angles, framing his eyes, most of them close to healing; a row of stitches running up the uppermost half of his left cheek and disappearing into his hairline; swollen jaw, puffy lips. the past week and a half hasn't been kind to Snake, but those who know him will have little to no difficulty identifying his face despite its current state amounting to little more than stitch work. his movements are sluggish and his gaze seems a little glassy be it from the medication feeding into his body via IV or due simply to the fact that this is the first time his eyes have been open since the 28th, but he looks self-aware enough.
upon seeing that the NV is recording, he opens his mouth as if to sigh but instead turns it off. several long moments later, the feed reactivates back to audio only.]
[slow, weary voice. too tired to really be fed up with the current state of affairs but too troubled to simply go back to sleep.] What day is it?