I don't know why I write these down, these are all going to be bad memories after I pass, but maybe some proof that I existed would be nice.
Ark's supposed master is. . . Gone to say the least. We put in all that effort to save someone that ment something to the hunk of metal that cares for me and he was ready to die anyway. I'm glad I have this scarf forcing my mouth shut because there's only bad things I could say, but this cursed thing let's me think. If there is any one thing I can do to make Ark feel more at home, I'll do it. That's what I did, I did one thing I know best. If were going to save a dying man just because someone wants us too, then by any fucking God we serve, we're God damn hero's. The kind I'd dream of being when I was younger. We wore our big ass hearts on our giant shimmering sleeves and we may as well show that! I might not ever fully trust a person but this is a damn moment that I lived in so from now damn on, we will wear out hearts on our sleeves. I sewed some on our clothes, even if I used to much, but it's a gesture I can follow through with. Ark helped me when he bought me the chalk board. I will help him in any moment in the future, expecally after this. Ark, if you do read this, I owe you big time. I help those who help me, that's how we survive.