(no subject)

It's turning into a month for unexpected communications, apparently. A textwave from Dunash isn't that rare an event; however, a vidwave is.

Simon frowns, and opens it, and watches his friend's face resolve on the screen.

"Simon, I am truly sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

He looks exhausted. No, he looks ... worse than that, somehow.

"We received word this morning that Liz Whitaker passed away last night. Of the advanced stages of Noboru's Disorder. It was...." He draws a deep breath. "It was apparently not unexpected.

"There is to be a memorial service at her parents' home in Cortez ten days from now. I have appended the details. Please let me know when you've received this."

(In the holopic on the wall over the bed, at the far right of the group, a young woman with a short shock of curly fair hair is grinning at the camera and flashing a triumphant high sign with one hand. Her other arm stretches upward to wind around the shoulders of the very tall young man next to her; he's bending forward, both to make it easier for her and to bring his face into the frame. They're both in graduation robes, like the others in the picture.)


For several seconds after viewing the wave, Simon sits there without moving. Then, against all logic, he watches it through again.