[network] @ASolomons; audio, afternoon of 347 [open]

[devoutish]

[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.]

Comments

[devoutish]

So many questions you've got. I'll see about answering them if you use your own voice.

>audio

[ecks]

Acknowledged.

[That's all he's getting for the moment, and it's in blankest monotone, no effort made.]