(Untitled)

[shatteredsylvia]

From one particular radio frequency comes a lot of static - but sometimes, a woman's voice. A British accent is barely distinguishable in the words.

“-- Hello? My name-- via Wy-- Hello? Is anyone--”

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[angela_edmunds]

Angela frowns, and adjusts the dials of her radio, to try to make the signal clearer. "Hello? Keep talking, okay, just trying to get you in better..."

[shatteredsylvia]

The signal suddenly gets much clearer. The static completely disappears.

The woman on the other end sounds relieved. "Oh, hello! I'm Sylvia Wycliffe. I'm living at--" here she gives an address of a house outside of Metropolis "-- with my son Michael."

[angela_edmunds]

Wycliffe, Wycliffe. She knows that name. After a long winter of being mostly closed in the farm, it feels as if her mind has become addled.

"Oh!" she says, remembering. "We have a Wycliffe near here...an Oliver Wycliffe. Do you know him?" She rummages around for a pen and paper to write down particulars.

[shatteredsylvia]

"Hush, love, hush..." the woman says, then begins to sing: "There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile. He found a crooked sixpence, upon a crooked stile. He bought a crooked cat, who caught a crooked mouse. And they all lived together, in a crooked little house."

Perhaps she's singing it to her son. It's an oddly ugly melody for a lullaby; harsh and jangling, none of the notes work.

[angela_edmunds]

That song...does not sound very comforting, at all, at all. She shudders involuntarily.

"Sylvia?" she asks.

[shatteredsylvia]

"-- Wycliffe," Sylvia repeats, in her same relieved voice, as if nothing odd had happened. (As if she's jumped back to a previous scene, in fact.)

"I live at," she gives the address once more, "with my son Michael, and I need--"

The static suddenly comes back. Her voice cuts out entirely.

[angela_edmunds]

She frowns and writes the information down.

"Sylvia? I've got it. I'll give the message to Oliver at once." But Angela is not sure the other woman has heard her; the static is so loud.

[shatteredsylvia]

The static continues.

[angela_edmunds]

Angela tries to get the signal back, but to no avail. She sits back, looking at the note and thinking for a few moments before going upstairs to don her 'going outside' gear.

She has a message to deliver, after all.

[sworntoalostgod]

Oliver, still weary from his recent unexpected trek through the wilderness, is reading the Bible and eating toast with honey inside the Cooper farmhouse.

[angela_edmunds]

It's been a long, long time since Angela has been here, and it feels odd to just stroll into the Cooper farmhouse after so long.

She's glad when she finds Oliver right away.

"Hey, Oliver." She sits down next to him.

[sworntoalostgod]

There's a slight pause for Oliver to remember her name. "Good day, Miss Edmunds," he greets, bookmarking and closing his Bible. "I've not seen you for some time."

[angela_edmunds]

"No...Thomas and I have been trying to get our own farm off the ground...and winter was rather long. It's good to see you."

She took out her note. "I was monitoring the radio for any signals...when I came upon a rather strange one."

[sworntoalostgod]

"Your own farm," Oliver repeats, taking a sudden interest. "I have some ability to increase potency in soil - though I can't vouch for how well my magic ranks next to modern fertilizer, I'd be happy to help with your crops."

He glances at her note. "Oh?" he asks.

[angela_edmunds]

"I'm sure we'll appreciate that when the time comes," she says, smiling a little.

"It was a very strange message...from a Sylvia Wycliffe, living outside of the city with her son Michael."

It was hard to explain just how it was strange...just that it was.

[sworntoalostgod]

Oliver goes very still.

His lips part as if to speak. He shuts them and remains silent for a very long moment.

"That's impossible," he tells Angela firmly. "She hasn't been Sylvia Wycliffe for almost two decades."