Who: Regan and Cels
When: Evening
Where: Rooftops, near U of M Hospital
It was a weird thing to accept as a 50-year-old woman that you'd never actually experienced dead silence before. Oh, sure, Cels
thought she had, but she was wrong. There was always a thought somewhere far away or the buzz of electricity... not anymore. Ever since she'd tried to project her telepathy past the barrier and hear for someone inside the world had gone well and truly silent. She was functioning with this as best she could. She knew, for one thing, that her encounter with the barrier had gone a fuck of a lot better than either of her brother's. She also had a familiar that could kind of help her communicate.
'Kind of' was the key phrase. He couldn't tell her exactly what was being said, but their link was so strong that he almost didn't need the telepathy. He could put the
ideas in her head, and she could logic them out. Nine times out of ten, when people spoke to her, she guessed right at what had been said. She'd also taken to carrying a notepad around, and her smartphone had this awesome little app where she could type and it would talk. All good things.
( Going back to the barrier today? Had not been a good thing. )
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