[Their brands? Hope hesitates when Lightning makes mention of them, lifting his hand to gaze at the back of his wrist like he'd done many, many times before—as if he could will that imposing crimson eye to simply go back to sleep forever and erase all his troubles.

It's still there, of course. As restless as ever. A testament to his own looming Fate, or so it seems.

Hope lets his arm fall back to his side, and he hadn't noticed until then that his fingers have been knotting nervously in the cord of the leash he's still holding. He untwists them, sighing, seemingly shifting a glance toward the dog but it's really just another object of nervous habit.]

Yeah... um... there's no life except for the monsters, little food... I woke up here after I went off to gather some.