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                               Today's Weather:

        A snowstorm rages through the downtown streets of Beacon Harbor
today, blanketting the ground in endless layers of blinding snow. Smoke
rises from the rooftops of nearby homes, while shops are closing early to
avoid the horrible road conditions sure to follow.

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She doesn't know how long she was out, but it was long enough for night to
turn into day, for gashes to be angelically healed, for some semblance of
emotional stability to return. Of course, the latter only lasts until Kess
remembers what was happening before she passed out, at which point she was
scrabbling for the door and her coat, her venture outside halted by the
swirling maelstrom of ice and wind. Snowstorm, and she's still edging on
exhaustion from it all, and she slams a hand into the glass of the balcony
door with frustration. She turns instead to the telephone, opting for the
landline to let her poor, over-used cellphone recover, punching in Kitty's
number and waiting breathlessly for an answer.

Sometimes it doesn't matter how early a number is called. The phone is
answered on the third ring, the voice familiar, alert and awake and aware
- and rough, but only as bad as someone who's in the throes of a bad cold.
"Pryde." In the background, there's a deeper, complaining mumble, and
Kitty's quietly stifled laughter.

"Kitty?" Kess isn't a smooth-voiced as she normally is either, and pounces
on the name almost eagerly. It's really you? "Are you okay? I- I just woke
up. Are you all right?" She last saw Kitty curled up and coughing
painfully, despite being healed. Worry claws at her tone as she curls to
sit under the telephone, huddling against the wall.

"Kess! - just a second." Not so loud, voice directed away from the phone:
"It's okay. It's Kess. Mind if I talk to her? I /know/ you can sleep
through anything..." Grumbled response, and Kitty stifles another laugh.
"No, I'm /not/ going anywhere. It's cold out there. 'Kay?" A moment
longer, and conversation with Kess is resumed. "Sorry about that. I think
some of that translated as Pete saying thank-you for making the armour,
though. I'm fine. Liam - and the others - they handled just about
everything but the cough, and that I can deal with. The others are fine,
too. Sera too. Are /you/ okay?"

"I- I'm fine." There's resignation at that, as a hand lifts to touch the
right side of her face lightly. Yes, healed and normal, though it /feels/
like it should be torn up. That's probably just mental. Which means she's
not fine, really, but physically she is. "Sera was there? I thought I saw
her... the real her. What happened? With the-- harpy, and things?" So
desperate for information. Everyone's all right? She relaxes, just a
little.

"I'm not... sure, exactly. But she - she was there, yeah. And she - we
helped her get it to back down. To go back under control. It didn't hurt
anybody else, after you. I don't think there're going to be any more
problems." Kitty's not as certain about that last as she'd like to be, but
it's a strong /feeling/, so she says it anyhow.

"How do you mean, no more problems? Is it over? Did... you and Jack and
the others... go to the Tower?" Because a part of her is terrified that
she missed it, that she passed out and left her friends to face that
alone. And there's also hope daring in Kess' voice; is it over?

"Not to the Tower, not yet. But if that's the /only/ thing we've got to
deal with, we can handle it fine." Steadiness in that, and a certain
degree of pride. "No more weird angels attacking us out of nowhere,
though. Things shouldn't be falling apart if we look away for thirty
seconds. And you can leave off patrolling so much and get some /sleep/
finally."

"No more angels? Are you sure?" Kess' voice in intent on that; it's
important. She made a promise. Her gaze drops to her right hand, where a
platinum ring adorns a finger, its chain lost somewhere. "Wasn't the
patrolling that made me tired," she murmurs, softly. It feels different,
that ring. Can she sleep, now, and not dream?

"I can't be /sure/," Kitty admits more quietly, "but it /feels/ right.
It's not - I don't have proof, Kess, but ... I didn't get the right
answers till I stopped looking for it. Fairy-tale rules, you know? I
think, though, the only one of those angels we're likely to see for a
while is the one that took you home last night. And he's on our side.
White wings. It's... the thing that attacked you and me, that was what was
generating them, I think. And we dealt with it. So there shouldn't be any
more."

"What about the little girl? The one that attacked Liam? I- I mean, she
disappeared, but... god, Kitty, I don't know. We still have to go to the
Tower, then?" Kess sighs softly, but resolutely. There are still things
that have to be done, and she can pull herself together for that. She has
to.

Kitty admits, "I don't know. I didn't /see/ the little girl, so I don't
really know where she fits. But - it sounds like the same thing. It'd ...
I know how this sounds, but it'd fit right in the pattern, you know? The
same dichotomy. Yeah, we still have to go to the Tower, or at least
whoever Jack's willing to take with him does. I don't know the timing on
that, though. Chances are we'll have some time to recover. And if we don't
- at least we know it's the last push. Most of us ... can manage one more
thing if we /know/ it's the last."

"I'll come, Kitty, if you need me. I can do it. Whatever it takes, you
know?" Kess' voice is soft, but there's firmness underlying it.
Determination. She's held on longer, through worse, and managed to do what
was necessary; she can do it again. Of course, it was different, but these
are the things she comforts herself with. "I'll be there." If she can, at
all.

"I know." Kitty finds faith in the strangest places. Calm, quiet, equally
firm - and then there's a brief, quiet laugh. "Glad you can. Pete
threatened to enforce a vacation for me by hiding all my stuff except,
like, a bathrobe."

Kess smiles, and the weak expression is evident in her voice as she jokes
lightly; "Well, tell him he's welcome to store your stuff at my place, if
he wants." Ever protective, and only too glad to help Kitty stay out of
the line of fire. Poor girl's taken so much punishment lately; the
birdgirl conveniently forgets her own.

There's a momentary incoherent sound, trying to talk and laugh at the same
time, and then Kitty lowers her voice and mock-hisses, "Kess, don't
/encourage/ him! Do you realize what it's like around here when /he/ does
the shopping?" Teasing, because not infrequently the best way to recover
from horrors is just to remember that life doesn't have to be like that.

"What, he can't read a list? I thought his eye was better?" It's weak,
half-hearted, but she /is/ trying, and Kess takes strength from Kitty's
easy humour. She knows it'll be okay, and better soon, and it's /not/ all
doom and gloom... it's just a lot to weigh on her right now. She's clawing
her way back to cheerfulness, closing her eyes and remembering how to
smile.

"Oh, yeah, it's better, but there's a big difference between 'can' and
'wants to.' You should /see/ the things he eats when he gets half a
chance. Actually, you shouldn't. He makes /normal/ falcons look like
they've got good table manners and weak stomachs." And for Kitty, it /is/
easy right now: choosing consciously to see the joy in things, offering
that up to Kess even second-hand. Look, see? Here? Not going to be afraid.
Of all the things to take away from an encounter with a charred and
corrupted horror ... well, in a way, that proves the point, doesn't it.

Kess isn't afraid, isn't angry; emotions have run and been controlled so
much lately that they're strung out and tending towards numb bleakness,
which leaves little room for joy. There's just so /much/, but she knows
she can bounce back, knows that she /will/, and chuckles softly. "I have a
strong stomach. I don't think he could put me off my food." She's had some
pretty dodgy things in the past, and doesn't have a fussy palate. "But you
keep him in line, huh?"

"Yeah. See, if I'm the one doing the shopping, I can threaten him with a
week of being vegetarian - hey!" Okay, there's a laugh. "You're supposed
to be asleep, no swiping at me! ... Kess, I'm scared; he /is/ still
asleep, he did that anyway." Humor, bright, gentle. If she could detach,
she'd be over where she could touch Kess, hug and tease and - and bake
cookies for all she knows. Touch helps heal. It's startlingly tempting to
coax Lockheed into paying the birdgirl a visit, since ... well, since
Kitty /can't/ detach; Pete's in more or less the same state Kess is in,
she's not going to let go of him.

Touch is so important to Kess, even more so with recent events, though the
line between comfort and discomfort had become thinner. It's mending, and
she clings to contact as something no-one can take from her, because
contact is trust and healing, and she will always have those. She cradles
the phone in both hands close to her face, as if it were Kitty. She
giggles softly at the Pete-interferences. "He just knows you too well."
Which is sweet. There's a rumbling sound as Tanabuk comes to see why Kess
is curled up on the floor, butting against her hands with his ginger head.
"And if it's that bad, you can always give /me/ the list and I'll do the
shopping for you. Play delivery bird for you."

"Oooh, tempting." Particularly over the next few days; Kitty doesn't think
she's getting to leave the house at all. Well, maybe she can coax out a
Caritas trip. Maybe. Probably just a phone message, sigh. "But if you do
that, I /do/ get to pay you the going rate for your time, darn it." Her
privilege!

Kess chuckles, and she's nodding as she scratches the cat's head. His
rasping purr is a background rumble to the conversation. "Maybe. Just pay
me in hot chocolate when I get there, and I'm good." Not saying /no/
exactly, but not refusing the offer either. No pressure, no expectations,
just an offer of help to a friend.

Kitty considers this. "That," she says thoughtfully after a moment, "is a
whole lot of hot chocolate." Piles and barrels and crates of it! Or maybe
she'll find a different way to handle it. "Oooh, is that a cat I hear?
Hello, over there!" Talking to animals. Over the phone. Sigh.

Kess' giggle comes easier this time - she's talking to the cat? "That's
Tana; he's loud. And also standing on me. I think he's trying to say
hello." There's an increase of purring as she puts his head closer to the
receiver, and he butts at it. "And, I only charge a cup a trip."

Briefly, Kitty wonders how large a cup she can find, just for the
practical-joke value. "Hi, Tana! - Make it a cup and staying for dinner,
or at least a snack, and it's a deal."