Daine frowns as it hits her: Edgar's having the same problem. For a beat, she's relieved that it's not just her, but then she begins to wonder just how far this goes. Is the entire base having a problem understanding what other folk are trying to say?
What about writing? Daine casts around for some of the scrap paper Edgar usually has on hand, picks up a page, and freezes. It, too, is covered in what looks like gibberish. Her heart sinks despite her feeble attempts to convince herself that maybe Edgar had written such nonsense on purpose, and she picks up a pen with some trepidation. When she tries to write, though she swears her hand moves the way it ought to be moving, the resulting scrawl just looks like a string of random shapes. It doesn't make sense.
She sets the paper and pen down with shaking hands. "What's going on?" she asks, hoping her tone of voice will convey her meaning even if he can't understand the words.
no subject
What about writing? Daine casts around for some of the scrap paper Edgar usually has on hand, picks up a page, and freezes. It, too, is covered in what looks like gibberish. Her heart sinks despite her feeble attempts to convince herself that maybe Edgar had written such nonsense on purpose, and she picks up a pen with some trepidation. When she tries to write, though she swears her hand moves the way it ought to be moving, the resulting scrawl just looks like a string of random shapes. It doesn't make sense.
She sets the paper and pen down with shaking hands. "What's going on?" she asks, hoping her tone of voice will convey her meaning even if he can't understand the words.