"I'm up so early today!"

"It never does stop snowing, does it...?"

"I finally talked to Professor Hanneman. Now I'm a bit nervous. I shouldn't be, right? It's... silly to be."

"It won't even hurt. Seteth said the same."

His hands are bloody when he returns today. He feels sick.

He doesn't feel like going to his appointment after the mission, but figures maybe it'll distract him, so after taking a long, hot shower, he goes anyway.

A Crest... He bears a Crest. He stumbles out of Hanneman's office, pale as a sheet. This should be good news, worth celebrating. But instead he's upset.

He's using a stick to draw something into the sand.

He's glad that classes have ended for today. Somehow he can't look at Lysithea, Marianne, Hilda and Claude the same anymore. It's... hard. Maybe some bow training is in order.

"I can't drink a lot of coffee, or my hands start shaking. How do some of you do it?"

Alawis is sitting outside, reading in a copy of The Origin of Crests. Most notably, he reads the article on the Crest of Chevalier. His hands are clammy. None of this feels real.

He's at the archery range as always, getting some practice in. The progress is there, but it's slow. Frustratingly so.

Loneliness is a disease. It's bitter and painful.

It's searing into his heart. He wants to go home, abondon everything. This isn't worth it.

"Sometimes you have no choice but to punch people to death. Sometimes you have to bash their jaw in, break their nose. Make them choke on their own blood before they finally die of internal bleeding."

( it's sad bc i put so much effort into him but... he's gonna go on hiatus. )