[CW: CAT DEATH/INJURY]

[If anyone thought Bluestar looked a little crazy before... well, that's really nothing compared to how she looks now. Her fur is a matted mess covered in bright red lines, her blue eyes wide and wild with the whites clearly visible around their edges. She's pacing around in front of her tablet, or trying to, at least... but every step she takes, she either wobbles and takes several more steps sideways to stay upright, or simply falls onto her face or tail and has to struggle to get up again. Her claws are out and raking at the floor, but they're visibly dull from already abusing them so much.]

--Have to warn Sunpaw, have to keep him safe, can't lose another one, can't lose him again, I can't--

[The prophecies from StarClan are following her even here, that much is painfully obvious. Surely Stephen already knew, he's a medicine Twoleg, he must have been aware of what the stars had in store. She falls on her face and cracks her chin against the floor, before getting up and going right back to her awkward pacing.]

--Have to gather those loyal to SnowClan. The grassplace- the park- with the ice barrier around it, the Twoleg nests around it will be safe, we can organize and be safe and--

[It's about here that she stops, and looks up at the tablet as if she suddenly remembers that she'd turned it on. She wobbles and sits back on her haunches, staring at the camera without blinking for several minutes. Between her mangy fur and the wild look in her eyes, she looks possessed. And without warning she curls up, laying her ears flat.]

--Sunpaw isn't safe without me, my kit, my sweet kit, why did I let you out of my sight, have to find him, have to warn him, have to--

[What is she going on about...?]

[The recording starts up and Alfie says in a rough, no-nonsense voice:]

Where are you? You're alive?

[There's a brief pause, and then he continues, his tone markedly different - it's a bit softer, but also more tired. Less guarded.]

Where are you? I'm in one of the newer areas; I'm in a funeral home I've never been in. Fucking cultist markings all over the walls-- answer as soon as you can, mate; please.

[Another pause, and then:]

Hello.

[He almost sing-songs his words, but only enough to just barely hide the hardness that lurks underneath.]

Do you know who I am?

[Once upon a time, this disjointed, confusing post was several separate messages. Unfortunately for Alfie, once he hit send, all privacy filters were removed - a consequence of his current death loss. For a guy who prefers private conversations over public ones by a large margin, this will not be fun.]