cursedarrows[The feed flickers on. Ashitaka appears in close up. For a moment he is quiet, lips pressed together in a thin, white line.]
[On second look, he appears to be breathing hard, as though keeping something in. A cut slashes across his cheek, seeping blood.]
[When he speaks at last, his voice is its normal quiet, measured thread, though there is an element of deep strain skimming just below the surface.]
I am . . . in need of some help.
[A wince, sharp, and he twitches, his head almost darting out of view of the feed.]
Not a healer. Someone who knows something of magic. And curses.
[A breath, and he reaches for the feed. His neck is briefly visible; lacing up the side of it is a network of angry purplish-black tendrils.]
Thank you. I apologize.
[Then the feed cuts entirely.]