Mask or Menace ☂ IC Phone Post

[numberthree]

INBOX Voice | Text | Call | Video | Surprise Me A flat computer automated voice comes on and states in monotone: "This is the voicemail box for Allison Hargreeves. Leave a message at the beep."

Luther

Diego

Klaus

Five

Ben

Vanya

code credit

Comments

[numberthree]

Thank you for that. We really do appreciate all the help we can get.

If anything comes of it, even in the middle of the night, we'd be all ears.

[anathemic]

Of course. Should I just text you, or Ben, or...? Any others? I got the impression there really were quite a lot of you.

[ Klaus had talked about them often enough, but often in such throwaway references skidding over the context so that Anathema lost track of the names and numbers and codenames, unless she actually sat down and started drawing up lists. Compared to her being an only child, it was A Lot. ]

[numberthree]

Any of the above would be fine, if you have something you're more comfortable with.

Most of us are in touch often, and everyone except one of us is in the house, here, right now, trying to sleep and mostly just waiting to start again in the morning. There's a good chance there won't be a lot of sleeping, or normal work days, around here really until we have Klaus back.


[ Everything about 'playing house' in this world reduced itself to ash and rubble before one of their own. ]

[anathemic]

[ A wince. The slow-creeping realisation: Anathema doesn't actually have any family here that could, or would, look for her like this. She's on her own here, like she's been ever since her mother chivvied her out the door with a pentagram and a book of prophecies.

At least Klaus has his siblings, complicated as that relationship is. ]

Be sure to get your rest and rotate shifts, if you can. Can't save the day if you're falling over from exhaustion.

I hope someone finds him. I know he and I are just colleagues, but I'm rather fond.

[numberthree]

[ It's hard to know what to tell people here sometimes. The same as home.

How they were trained to withstand exhaustion, and deprivation, and even torture, as though they were things to slide off the shoulders of children as easily as sunny blue skies and screaming crowds of fans. How they know they need rest, but there's a heightened key that puts everyone more into mission-mode with Klaus gone than anything that would lead to true rest. They'd all be more ready to run out, guns blazing, at a sighting of him, at this moment, than to bed down quietly. Peacibly. Logically.

Luther, Diego, herself, especially. And Ben --

There's the barest glance toward Luther (leaning back on the couch, not exactly ignoring that she's occupied now, but patiently, quietly, waiting her out) and she knows all too well how impossible it is to sleep when you're suddenly trying to do it on top of the loss of the person you are closest to in the world. She can't imagine Ben is sleeping at all, even if he is curled up in his bed. ]


I'm sure we will, and he'll be glad to know that. I know he's really liked working there.

[anathemic]

[ Anathema stares at that last message, tinkers with her response for a while, trying to find the right words that won't just sound like trite condolences or empty sympathy. There's more she wants to ask, more she wants to find out about this family, the sister, but—

It isn't the time. ]

Let me know if you do hear anything. When you can, of course.