( A general message on the crystals doesn’t alert him. Something sent to him personally, though, does the equivalent of breaking through his phone notifications. Makes him look up from his work, push hair off his forehead with the sweaty summer heat, makes him pick up the crystal. )
I am, yes —
( It was bad, she says. So Strange presses through to Julius’ message. Listens to it. Feels his extremities run cold, like he’s been doused in ice water, before he switches immediately back to Derrica: )
Do you have any further details? I’m assuming— medical supplies, it sounds like they need medical supplies.
( He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. He knows what casualties means. Rather than risk a treacherous tremble himself, Strange’s own voice simply cuts off, the sentence aborted. There’s the sound of movement, drawers slamming, grabbing supplies. )
I’ll get everything ready. Bring some bags and packs here, if you can.
Do you have any more information— that’s not out there already, I mean.
( Echoing her earlier words. Strange has been doing too much at once, trying to pack up medical supplies while talking to her while also flipping over to listen in on the other crystal conversations, and he’s dropped a bottle of distilled elfroot. He forces himself to breathe out, hands splayed on the table, slowing down.
He’s been here before. He has experienced catastrophic loss, worse than this, billions, trillions. This is not new.
(It’s somehow worse, though, being alive for this part.) )
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portalling) wrote2022-04-02 01:17 pm
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no subject
I am, yes —
( It was bad, she says. So Strange presses through to Julius’ message. Listens to it. Feels his extremities run cold, like he’s been doused in ice water, before he switches immediately back to Derrica: )
Do you have any further details? I’m assuming— medical supplies, it sounds like they need medical supplies.
no subject
[ a tremor, very quiet, in her relay of this news. ]
We need to pack up. Ellie is bringing the griffons down to the courtyard. I said we would meet her.
no subject
( He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. He knows what casualties means. Rather than risk a treacherous tremble himself, Strange’s own voice simply cuts off, the sentence aborted. There’s the sound of movement, drawers slamming, grabbing supplies. )
I’ll get everything ready. Bring some bags and packs here, if you can.
Do you have any more information— that’s not out there already, I mean.
no subject
[ steadily, carefully modulating her own tone. ]
no subject
( Echoing her earlier words. Strange has been doing too much at once, trying to pack up medical supplies while talking to her while also flipping over to listen in on the other crystal conversations, and he’s dropped a bottle of distilled elfroot. He forces himself to breathe out, hands splayed on the table, slowing down.
He’s been here before. He has experienced catastrophic loss, worse than this, billions, trillions. This is not new.
(It’s somehow worse, though, being alive for this part.) )
No names yet, though?
no subject
[ a quiet, miserable confirmation. ]
I’ve heard one of the rifters, and Yseult.
[ Knowing it’s faster to identify survivors than await a list of the dead. ]
I’ll be there in a few moments. I’ve a few crates for us to use, as well as what’s there.
no subject
( Crisp; cutting off the connection.
They have work to do. )