Logs:Even through the ringing-glass, the wind-of-the-tongue, enough to shatter the stone-of-the-breast.

Even through the ringing-glass, the wind-of-the-tongue, enough to shatter the stone-of-the-breast.
Dramatis Personae Kamil, Kadar, Kasim, Karida
In Absentia Khalil	2024-10-26 "Shoulda seen him."
Location East Coast/ West Coast
Though Kamil was the one who called in the first place, for several long seconds his end of the line is just dead air. No, not quite dead, he's breathing somewhat raggedly into the mouthpiece, like he's steeling himself or maybe like he just finished running a 5k or possibly like he is actively huffing glue this second. Probably that first one though. "...yuh," he says finally, a little strangely. "Um, what's up?" -- like he wasn't the one who called in the first place. Kadar does not seem to inherently consider the dead air weird, or maybe he just expects a certain level of weirdness from his baby brother. At any rate, the other end of the line is filled at first with the background sound of heavy metal, soon turned down very low. "You know. Corpses. The usual. You good, man, you called me. You sound a little, uh -- s'going on? Oh shit how'd your thing go?" There's another little stretch of silence and then a very audible sniffle. "We killed -- we got -- he --" Kamil starts, haltingly at first and then in a rush, and then like he just can't stop himself. "Hella fucking Nazis down with him -- thought we were gonna -- but then -- he just -- and then we -- ohmygod, fuck, this is all -- Khalil," this, at last, seems to provide some anchor to these detached fragments, his voice strengthening just enough that the guilty, plaintive edge in it makes him sound somehow younger than he is. "Khalil is dead, we got Khalil killed and then we left him in fucking -- Staten Island." The music shuts off altogether, leaving only the strange tinny quiet of the morgue. Then, the even more complete quiet of the phone being put on mute. It takes a short while for Kadar to unmute it. Even with this stalling there's still a definite ragged hitch to his breathing, a wet snuffle behind his voice when he replies, incredulously: "Staten fucking Island?" There's another sniff. "We'll be there." --- It's quiet on Kasim's end of the line, and he waits only long enough to be sure he can be heard before speaking. "Khalil's dead." It's been loud where Karida is -- ambiently loud, the wind and the splash of water until a door closes and she shuts out the bulk of the background noise. There's a quiet thump, a low slow breath. "And the Nazi fucks?" "Hhh." It's almost heh, but doesn't get all the way there. Even so, there's a certain smugness in Kasim's low chuff. "Shoulda seen him." "Goddamn," Karida replies, and then, fiercer, "goddamn. Can't believe you pulled it off -- shit. Shit. Can't believe that fucking asshole went and --" There's a quiet clap of hand to mouth, a muffled hitch of breath. Her voice is still steady, though. "I'm getting us tickets -- try to keep Kamil together." And, beep, she is gone.