father abel | somewhere around april tdm time

[semicharmed]

[ Let's call it a few days since the selfie incident. Matt's been trying with mixed success to enter this world of psychic communion that their shards have given them access to. Mixed in both an emotional sense (he can't imagine any of his Kenoma kindred want him in their heads), and a procedural one (he's been trying to call up Abel for weeks without result).

Tonight seems to be different. Maybe it's the thinning of some veil, the dreams they've all begun to share. Maybe it's just practice. But this time, as Matt lies on his bed, focusing his mind with snatches of old poetry ...

Il est l’affection et le présent, puisqu’il a fait la maison ouverte

... he seems to make some progress. ]

Father Abel?

[ Tenuous, but there for the listening. If one's so inclined.

(Underneath Matt's psychic "voice," Abel may hear a faint duet: à l’hiver écumeux et à la rumeur de l’été.) ]

Comments

[inutilis]

[ there are few among the Pleroma that are quite as open and receptive as Abel (to a fault, perhaps); whether it is dumb luck or this invitation that permits Matt's meandering thoughts to travel to their destination, it doesn't matter.

the important bit is that he finds his way through.

he might feel it tentatively at first - the vaguest sense of someone else's presence, faint and subtle, like the sense someone is standing in the room behind you. there is the suspicion they're there, but... without turning around, can you be sure? and in the beats that follow, it becomes much more solid, real. a hazy flicker of affirmation, response; Abel's voice soon filters out from the void to answer, ]

--Yes! Yes, ah... the one and only! Is this... this is Mr. Matt, isn't it?

[ Abel sounds positively elated, actually?? and perhaps beneath that, just a tiny bit perplexed-- i-is that... poetry? Franc? um-- ]

Please-- how have you been...? It's been quite a while, hasn't it? Are you doing well? --You best be, for the record...!