Badlands

        Southland Drive leaves the City Circle to the north and begins to
work its way though the thick urban development that has earned the name
"The Badlands" by city residents. Huge towering housing projects, like
monolith of steel and stone, cast long shadows over slum ridden side
streets. Old hotels, once the pride of a grow city, are worn down and
broken, serving as low income housing or rented by the hour. The side
streets off of Southland are narrow, broken affairs, with the occasional
burned out lot along the side standing as mute testament to the problems
this area has. Many businesses lie empty and abandoned, the economic boom
blessing much of the rest of the city seeming to leave this area
untouched. Southland continues south, working its way free of the
stagnating currents of too many people living in too small an area.

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                               Today's Weather:

The wind whips silently thru the streets and concrete canyons, smacking
flesh like a blast from an open freezer. The scuff of dirty snow drifts
under the wind's whip, blocking the visibility of drivers and pedestrians
alike. The sky above is clear and blue, but the hunched and scurrying
pedestrians don't stop to admire and everyone else is inside where it's
warm.

******************************************************************************

Nobody should be out in this weather. Nobody. It's cold even before you
count the wind chill, thank you lack of clouds to insulate, and once the
wind's factored in it doesn't bear thinking about. Which means that,
inevitably, Liam's going to be out here somewhere. Probably pointless of
Kitty to try finding him, there's a /lot/ of the Badlands... but after
last night, she's got a couple other reasons to be out, too. (Mind, she's
tempted to label them 'stupidity and irrational guilt,' but that's not
/quite/ accurate.) She's wrapped up as warmly as she can manage, layers
and scarf and boots and hat and gloves, and the outermost layer is
appropriately dingy and tattered; it's just what's in her backpack, or
what started out there, that hasn't been. Blankets and warm clothes,
Goodwill-vintage but /warm/, that she's been distributing quietly. If she
meets up with the angel, well and good. If not, it wasn't a wasted trip.
And she stays painfully wary as she walks, of other figures out in the
wind and cold, and exquisitely careful of going anywhere near the road
itself. More so than usual even for her.

In complete contrast, Bartleby isn't dressed quite as well as he could be.
He has a nice big coat, and gloves, but no hat or scarf - it just didn't
occur. He *was* going to go to a bar, but that ambition lasted only about
twenty minutes before he turned around. Now he trudges down the middle of
the road, walking in tyre tracks. His head is ducked against the wind, and
he shivers. Must get home.

There's a circle of Hell that's supposed to be this cold, isn't there?
Yes... of course, Liam is out, and not bundled nearly as well as Kitty,
though he's managed to scam a hat and scarf from somewhere, which puts him
above Bartleby on scales of relative preparedness. The angel is shivering,
and tired, been pouring his warmth into any that need it; he has
sandwiches, as well, because he always has sandwiches. Just now, he's
bending over two ragged girls freezing on a stoop, extending his hands.
Fingerless gloves, the easier to touch, to heat. They smile at him,
instantly brightening as their shivers stop, and he smiles back; he turns
away before he allows himself to sigh. Not dark yet. It's going to be a
long night.

Yes. It's the lowest one. Big coat, but no limp - and in the road anyway;
not going there. Kitty glances away from Bartleby ... ah. Big coat, limp,
girls looking better. Kitty picks up her pace so well as she can. It's
hard to move too fast outside, in snow, against this kind of wind. "Hey,
you," is called, by way of anonymous greeting and relatively friendly
tone. Though given that wind, again, hard to tell who the words are
actually going to /reach/.

Or a long afternoon, even, what with midwinter being only just past.
Bartleby looks up from the snow at the spoken words, and also recognizes
Liam - the littlest angel is distinctive. He changes direction slightly,
wanting to overhear.

Liam looks over at the greeting, instantly wiping any weariness from his
features -- ready to help, what's wrong? It's why he's usually greeted,
around here, and it takes him a second to recognize the bundled figure.
"Kitty?" he ventures after a moment, and when he's sure of her, she gets a
friendly smile -- one of his real smiles, an expression reserved for
certain people only. He hasn't noticed Bartleby yet.

The brown curls are too long for Kitty; they've gone from barely brushing
her shoulders down to mid-back (or what would be mid-back if the wind
didn't have them in tangled thrall) since either of the others saw her
last. But the eyes are right, and the jacket, and the flash of a grin as
she lifts her face from her own scarf for a moment. "Hoped I'd see you out
here." She halts fairly close to Liam, swinging her backpack down and
opening it to peer in intently. "Had some - things going on last night. I
thought you should know." As soon as possible, apparently.

"... what happened to your hair?" is what Liam manages, after a puzzled
few seconds. "Ah -- looks good, mind," he amends, hastily. He tucks his
free hand into the warmth of a pocket and leans on his cane. The breeze
doesn't catch his coat as much as it might; Kess has weighted the bottom.

After a moment of rummaging, Kitty comes up with a tightly folded bundle
of faded green cloth, and glances toward the pair of ragged girls. That
heat will last a lot longer if the wind has a little harder time stealing
it from them. "Oh! Sorry. Forgot. I ran into somebody who... oh, heck,
this is ridiculous. I met Ria a couple days back." She knows Ria knows
Liam; odds are Liam knows Ria's reputation at the least; sometimes keeping
secrets just isn't an issue. "She did it for me as a favor." Of course,
when it comes time to comb out the tangles, it won't feel like so much of
one, but.

"Ahhh," replies Liam, not in the least confused. "Didn't know you knew
her. Right fine lass." Any motion by Kitty to give blankets to the girls
will gain the most brilliantly approving look from the angel. "About as
fine as another I could name."

"Friend of mine was worried about her, so I took a look for him. She's
sweet, yeah. Just a second." Kitty flicks a quick smile, and carries the
blanket over - the fabric's stiff and rough, less than pleasant to the
touch, but it's /efficient/, and warm is a lot better than soft. Another
dig in the backpack, and a couple of wrapped power bars and pieces of
chocolate are handed over as well. Food becomes energy becomes warmth.
Then she slips back to the angel's side - the backpack's nearly entirely
empty now. "Come on, let's get out of the wind for a minute?" She nods
toward a nearby alley - one that she'd already passed and had the chance
to check. "I'd like to be - a little further away from the road." It's not
people on foot that worry her right now.

And, thus, Liam's shining approval. He really doesn't think he could like
Kitty any more than he already does. "Aye, sure. Anythin' to get a little
bloody warmer." He's slow in the snow, himself, picking his way with limp
and cane, flicking a look at the bundled Kitty. "Somethin' wrong?"

Maybe if Kitty were doing this for entirely altruistic reasons rather than
because of last night? She's lucky Liam's got a biased view of her. She's
also keeping her pace down to a match with his, more or less, leading the
way a little just in case she missed something in her first passing check
of the alley. "Yeah. You remember this thing that's coming? That Claire's
been warning us about? I think it's here."

It would be sort of difficult for him to forget, though vague prophecies
tend to be shoved aside in Liam's mind, in favour of more concrete worries
-- like two girls freezing in the Badlands, or an old man on the corner
who needs food. But he hasn't forgotten, no. Black feathers, gunshot
wounds. Liam follows Kitty into the alley, trusting, and pauses there.
"How d'you mean?"

And Liam might just have the right idea, with those concrete worries.
"Last night, something happened down by St. Asta's. Maybe a block or so
around it went /weird/ - it looked old, falling apart, and there were dead
roses all over the place. Like they'd grown there." Kitty doesn't stay
still, even in the alley. She paces, not looking at Liam, as she talks.
"And there were - people. With black wings. Several of them. They were
/nothing/ like you." That last sentence is edged, sharp, just short of
vicious. "And another one ... white wings. She came out of the cathedral.
They threatened her. Some guy, I don't even know who, distracted them, I
got time to get to her. She - touched me. And it felt like, like when you
touch people. She ... did something to me, I don't know what, but it
knocked her out. There were - four of the black ones left, with swords. I
couldn't protect her." I'm sorry. "When I ran - they went for her, and -
everything went back to normal. No roses, no decay. Just a woman lying
there in front of the cathedral, and a flock of crows. She was - dead.
Frozen." Which is why Kitty's down here with cheap blankets.

An angel whose touch felt like his touch. The sudden hope in Liam's eyes
is all the more heartbreaking for the way it's almost instantly dashed. A
woman, dead. Couldn't protect her. Black wings. Nothing like him. Of
course. None of them are like him.... except possibly the one he will now
never see. In contrast to Kitty's pacing, Liam holds himself perfectly
still, and when she's finished talking, he stares quite fixedly at the
dirty snow beneath his feet. There is a long moment of silence. Finally,
he says, "If she did somethin' to you, lass, might be I should check."

That's why she wasn't looking at him. Didn't want to see that if she
didn't have to. "Yeah," Kitty says quietly. "I think you should. When
you're up to it - it's pretty rough out, I don't know what kind of shape
you're in." She finally brings herself to a halt, not far away. "I'm
sorry."

Sometimes the power within him spills and swirls beyond his control,
turning navy eyes to sapphire. More rarely, however, Liam withdraws so far
within himself that the absence of such inner illumination changes his
gaze to black instead, and black is what he raises to Kitty now. "Let me
see," he says, calmly. "Lookin's not hard." Withdrawing his hand from his
pocket, he extends it, palm up. Shaking just a little.

Not hard for Liam, maybe. Now that the adrenaline rush is gone, finding
out what happened scares Kitty more than a little. So she hesitates a
moment before tugging off her glove, shoving it in a pocket, and reaching
to take Liam's hand. "Okay," is all she says. "Okay."

Liam takes Kitty's hand without hesitation. Numb, really. And he knows she
doesn't like his peace, and there's very little to spill from him anyway,
with all his power pulled back, but /something/ has to be sent into Kitty,
so he forms his query as warmth, taking the edge off the chill as he seeks
the feel of her pattern. He closes his eyes, and he holds Kitty's hand for
a moment longer than he has to. Just to feel. Just.... oh, God. Dropping
his fingers, he steps back, and stares at the ground again. "There's a
piece of her in you," he says, quietly. "It won't hurt you. It's separate,
an' small, an' meant for somethin'.... I can't tell what."

Kitty's hand doesn't drop - it's held in midair for a moment even after
Liam lets go, and then she lifts it to touch the sleeve of his coat, up
near his shoulder. "A - piece of her?" It's all right to hold on to, if
you need, if you can. Something in his expression. "Are /you/ all right?"

Liam is shaking now, visible in the slight movement of his shoulders, in
the trembling of the cane at his side. "Fine," is what he replies, though,
still quite calmly. "Doesn't take nearly anythin' just to look." There's a
pause, and he looks back up at Kitty as her touch registers. "Odds're good
that whatever... killed her... will be comin' after you."

"They're welcome to try." Kitty's expression shifts for a moment, letting
anger show - her temper isn't the best in the world, never has been, and
she'd love a chance to go up against these things on her own terms. But
there are other problems. "The question is - if they're going to come
after me because of - whatever she left with me - are they also going to
go after /you/?"

"Haven't a bloody clue." Liam raises his free hand to rub at the back of
his neck. If he's concerned, it's lost in his reserve. "I've not seen any
new angels, at any rate. There were a raven, but no cause to think it had
anythin' against me."

How is he managing with those fingerless gloves? Even out of the wind,
Kitty's ungloved hand is trying to slowly congeal. "You'd know these if
you saw them. They're - they're precisely opposite of you. Only more so."
Even just talking about them, even after a night spent leaning on Pete for
stability, her voice is still shaken, and she can't think of a better way
to describe them than that. "Be careful, anyway. If things start looking -
wrong - worse than usual - get out of the area as fast as you can, okay?
And be careful crossing streets. I'm sorry, I sound like somebody's mom."

Liam's fingers are chilled as ice, but he needs to be able to touch
people. He moves his hand to rest it over Kitty's again, where she brushes
against his sleeve. Warming her, even if he can't warm himself. Comfort,
too, if she wishes it -- drifts of peace offered, but not imposed. "...
why crossin' streets?"

Kitty covers his hand loosely with her other one. He can't help himself,
but she can share her own heat, warm his fingers a little. And it's still
easy for him to pull back ... and comfort ... well, it makes it much, much
easier to talk. "The creature behind these things arranged for one girl to
get hit by a car already. It might be able to do it again. It's worth a
little being careful."

"Claire's daughter," replies Liam. "Right." He can't warm himself, can't
lose himself in his own peace. He can take a little comfort in what he
feels from Kitty, though, her own inner strength mixed with another
angel's light, and a little of the blue creeps back into his gaze. His
terribly sad, calm gaze. Still shaking, trembling almost imperceptibly,
though whether it's cold or something else is hard to say. His aura brings
only peace, love, warmth. "I've not seen anythin', but I'll be careful."

Kitty would bet on something else. The heart of an angel, bruised. "Do,"
she says quietly. And then one corner of her mouth turns up a little.
"Because trying to rescue you from the hospital or something would be a
/serious/ pain." Here. You're not alone. You're not the only one like you.
And if there was one other, is still one other in part, then there must be
more, somewhere. It's not peace, but it might be hope.

He doubts they'd attack him with a car. Not if it's what's inside him that
they'd want. And maybe he does pick up on a little of the hope Kitty
offers, because he returns that faint, tugging hint of a smile. "Aye,
well. I'll try not to inconvenience." There is a pause, and he sighs
slightly. "Listen -- I were goin' to phone you tonight. You an' Pete have
any plans for Christmas? I'm told it's traditional to cook dinner.
Inasmuch as none of us are Christian, I'd nevertheless be pleased if you'd
stop in." There. Let's change the subject for just a second. Take a
breath.

She doubts it, too, but she's a little irrational on the subject of moving
vehicles these days. And at the invitation, Kitty's faintly brighter
expression firms and stays. "We'd love to." Yes, she's willing to speak
for Pete on this one. "Though I warn you in advance, I'm /not/ going to
make any guarantees about either of us showing up entirely sober."

"That's well an' good, lass, you sure as hell'd not be /leavin'/ entirely
sober." Liam's smile quirks a little further. "Imagine Lorne'll be there,
we'll get him to raid Caritas before he comes. I can't offer a turkey but
we'll come up with some sort of substitute." Those little trembles are
subsiding, now, though the sadness lingers behind his gaze.

"Tofurky," Kitty says, her tone grave but her eyes dancing. "Although Pete
will probably want to kill us both. I'll figure out some way to bribe him
not to complain /too/ much. Does Lorne have transportation? We can pick
him up, if he needs it, and save him the trip in the cold - Pete's a
pretty good driver. On the other hand, given the sobriety issues, maybe
driving isn't the best plan after all..."

"I'm goin' to advise against drivin'," confirms Liam, wryly, "but my guess
is that if you could get a taxi to stop by the club, he'd not object. He's
a bastard of a time gettin' them to stop, an' it's too cold for him to
walk. Not that it stops him. Which is why /I/, at least, would be
grateful."

"I think we can manage something," Kitty assures cheerfully. After all,
it's awkward to try to evict someone who's already /in/ the taxi when she
prompts you to stop and pick up another passenger. Plus, there's always
bribery. Less easy than it had been, now that Kitty's trying to support
them legitimately, but still doable. "Let's see. Food. Alcohol. Good
company. A lack of frostbite. Are we missing anything?"

"Nah, that sounds about right." Liam sends a last, drifting tingle of
warmth into Kitty before he drops his hand, limping a step back. "An'
speakin' of frostbite... I should be on my way. Rounds yet to make." He
pauses, hint of good mood fading back to sober. "Where'd she die?" he
asks, quietly.

Kitty's hands press Liam's lightly as his starts to drop; then she draws
them back. At least the fingers of /that/ one of his hands will be other
than numb for a while. "St. Asta's. On the steps out front."

"Ta," says Liam, and he moves toward the mouth of the alley, not without
giving Kitty a slight bow. "You take care, lass, alright? An' I'll see you
in a few days." His tone is calm, nearly light, though he can't quite keep
the sorrow from his gaze.

"You, too." I'm sorry. Still. Always. But I'll keep it safe. Kitty
shoulders her backpack again, keeping Liam company at least to the alley's
mouth. "And /try/ not to freeze, huh?"

"Do my bloody best. If you could arrange for spring to come a little
early, I'd be appreciative." Liam rests a fond look on Kitty, then ducks
his head against the wind, and begins his slow walk down the street,
further into the Badlands. There's work yet, and always, to be done.