(no subject)

[aculeatus]

In the early hours of the morning, a diffuse, silvery shape will pad into Thorne. Constantly shifting and wavering, as if uncertain what it is meant to be, it seats itself in front of a few likely Order members, curls its tail around its feet, and addresses them in unmistakeable, if somewhat wearied tones.

I have Valerius. Someone inform Patil before she starts demolishing innocent landscape. And send someone. Can't carry him. Follow...