makeitmemorable

[Backdated to the morning of the 28th, sunrise:]

[The PCD cuts on from where it sits on the ground, giving a pretty decent view of a bloodstreaked floor. The video gives a brief eyeful of Morgan's naked legs, before he covers the camera with his thumb, picking up the PCD. It's at face-level when he uncovers it, his hair a little mussed and green eyes wide.]

Oh, my god. I ate Bill.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

Bugbears, man. Seriously - don't mess around with them.

[Morgan is preoccupied, though; he has something in his hands - a small, winged creature, the size of a mouse. He seems to have caught himself a small minx.]

Does anyone know what the hell this thing is called? I've never seen anything like it before.

[.. but he seems fond of it, at least.]

And what do you name something small and fluffy? 'Cause I'm about a hair's breadth from calling him Fido.

[Someone's voice sounds rough as hell.]

So does anyone have a bag of frozen peas? Or just like - aspirin. I could do with some aspirin.

Okay, so, uh - I hate to do this, but: I need help. I'm not looking for handouts, but it's getting cold, and I don't know where the hell you guys are finding stuff like firewood and food and clothes. I've gone scavenging, and mostly? I can't find anything but trash.

[He's sitting at a table in a hoodie and mismatched gloves. The light coming in through the window is dim; it's difficult to discern too many details of the room.]

So, if someone could point me in the right direction? It'd be much appreciated.

-- TEXT --
kljlkjasdf

is this thing working??

hello hello

mayday mayday sos

[And then it switches over to voice.]

-- hey!

[The feed is a little crackly, a little too-loud. Whoever's speaking? His mouth is entirely too close to the microphone.]

If someone can hear this? Who the hell are you, and where the hell am I?