Aion Teleos Network

[ Howl's psychic voice is familiar in the way it sounds, but not in the way it feels. There is no mirth, no haughty playfulness, no usual thread of flippancy to his words. He is exhausted, on edge, and anxious, and it leaks into his message. Although "leaks" is not even the right word — he is making no real attempt at hiding his misery right now. ]

Aions have arrived in this world twice so far. The second batch appeared in the Shrines about three months after the first.

Tomorrow... marks another three months.

[ it's much too early to say there is any kind of pattern to it all, but... ]

Those of you whole enough to travel to the Shrines and check for new Aions must do so. We cannot afford to let the Pleroma strengthen their numbers.

[ And for now, he leaves it at that. No indication of what he is planning to do with his weekend, and definitely, conspicuously no mention of the mission failures, the traitors, or the prisoners. ]

[ 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.) ]