[IC Inbox -- Snowblind]

[heavensreader]

Is it worki - oh. Ahem. This is Kesara Freamon. Please leave your message here and I will call back on you as soon as I can.







Wait, is it still - argh, how do I ma-

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[heavensreader]

[It's been a long and busy day for Kesara, so the response comes rather later, after she's bedded down for the night done with all her explorations. And it has not been a good day. She sounds tired, still a little hoarse with crying, her breathing loud. It's difficult to pretend. Doubly difficult when this kind of story, this brilliant story, is just what she needed right now to make her feel better.

It's almost like a bedtime story, though of course she's much too old for those.]

That is incredible. They really, truly do that - just do it? Rampage through shops like that? Have you seen it happen?

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[devoutish]

Nope. The shops they hit are jewelry stores, women's clothing stores, high-end department stores. None of 'em places I go much. This one, I read about in the paper.

[And added in some of the details from word of mouth, or even his own imagination in a couple spots.

But he hears the hoarseness in her voice, and the raggedy breathing. He takes a quick moment in his head to waffle, deciding whether or not to address it, before settling on saying:]

All right there, Kesara?

[He knows how to ask gently without being coddling, lightly without being flippant.]

[heavensreader]

You shouldn't believe what you read in the paper. [It starts as an automatic dismissive response, but by the end of it she has remembered who she's responding to, and there's a hint of wry humour a little odd in a child. But the phrase is one of Dame Ariel's patented ones, so Kesara has some perspective on it.

She hesitates when he asks after her, the strange audible kind of hesitation. To look like a weak child to Mr. Solomons is an appalling prospect. But she can spin it, she thinks. It wouldn't be lying.]

I found some things. Many things. The story doesn't have to be free. You'll want to know.

[devoutish]

All right. What have you found?

[heavensreader]

Dead people.

[She does not manage to sound completely neutral about this.]

The park in the northeast is full of corpses. There is this structure - I'm not sure what it was for, but the underside is full of the dead, and none of them died naturally. Then I was in a house not far, and there I found two graves, and a bloodied old knife, and writing on the wall. Someone's killed themselves and their child so someone else wouldn't take them away. Their ghosts are still there - real ghosts, I saw them with my own eyes.

[devoutish]

Mm.

[God. No wonder she's upset. Hiding it valiantly, but still.]

Can't say that wouldn't have chilled even me, Kesara. Right down to the bone.

Did the-- ghosts, did they communicate?

[heavensreader]

[His response surprises her, this kind of response from a London man who'd just told her about the kind of women she can hardly imagine. She swallows audibly, her voice straining for strength.]

They're - they're only dead people. I've seen those before. But the ghosts - [one of them was a child and the other, she thinks the other must have been the mother. She feels queasy to remember it.]

I couldn't get close. Something about them made me sick. I couldn't stay too long.

[It is not a lie, but it is a lie. She ran.]

[devoutish]

I've seen dead people too, but there's a difference between a dead person and a mass fucking grave, innit.

Which house are the ghosts in? Is it one that's marked on House's map?

[heavensreader]

There were so many. [She is willing to accept the distinction, if it lets her breath out a bit of her terror in that whisper. A little bit. Enough to stop it flooding over, perhaps.]

It's one of the easternmost houses - by the eastern wall, and up north. Forty-one on Dr. House's map. I'm still close, but - but I'm doing something else now. I'm looking for a tunnel.

[devoutish]

Through the wall?

[Well, that's interesting.]

Have you got a reason to think there is one?

[heavensreader]

There was -

[She stops. This is information - very valuable information. It ought to be shared, of course, with the community of explorers, but while it's all hers it has worth. Alfie had given her a story for free, but...

He'd also let her keep her dignity. He'd been kind to her. Truly kind.]

There was a ghost at the school, too - perhaps it was a ghost. I'm not sure. But someone appeared to me at the school and told me to go east and find the tunnel. I think there might be one under the slope, where the wall might have collapsed.

[devoutish]

[Score. Alfie has been collecting information since his arrival - some of it useful-sounding, some of it questionable, but not much as concrete as this. This and the town hall lead are the best things he's heard so far, he thinks - and though he reminds himself to be wary and proceed with caution in case it's a trap of some kind, he can't help but feel a spark of hope.]

Keep me updated, yeah? I'll trade for any information - in stories, skills, things I know.

[heavensreader]

[For all her distress, something in Kesara brightens. He'll trade for any information. He thinks her information is valuable. She's doing well. Any day now she'll reach the slope, and who knows what she might have to trade then... as long as she keeps going.]

I will. It's fair. You've got good stories to trade and I think - I think it'll be good if someone knows other than me. In case I die.

[devoutish]

Yeah. You take good care of yourself and do your very best to make sure that doesn't happen.

[He's kind of worried, okay. At least she seems like she has an amazingly good head on her shoulders.]

[heavensreader]

I will. [She says it with forceful determination. It could not be clearer that she does not mean to die if she can at all help it.]

And you too, Mr. Solomons. You take good care - I know it's mighty presumptuous of me, but you take good care. Yeah?

[devoutish]

Yeah.

[It's not presumptuous at all, to his mind. If she can allow him to show care and concern, then he can allow her to do the same.]

I will.