2019-09-11 - Shrapnel and Sacrifice

By the time people start trickling to the upstairs loft apartment door with a plain faced counter girl wearing hipster glasses directing them to the stairs at the back of the shop, Lilith has made cookies. It smells like that, along with the general air of laundry and apple cinnamon potpourri of some kind, making the loft a pleasant enough accommodation of general normality after the trip to where they went earlier. She opens the door to the first people that knock, still wearing what she was wearing before, though she's unbraided her hair and left it in the residual kink waves and tousle that comes with undoing hair. She's also stripped herself down at the feet to red-toenail painted bare feet.

There's wine glasses in a line on the kitchen counter that separates from living and sleeping areas and she turns to walk that way after amiably inviting inside, "Come on in. Warm cabernet red or chilled chardonnay? I have beer in the fridge too, or stiffer bottles, if anyone's inclined." She pauses, "Also my cookies are total cheater cookies from batch dough, don't think that I'm Betty Homemaker or anything untoward."

The first to arrive are Isabella and Alexander, with the former having driven the latter there, dressed much like what she had worn at the Exorcist's office - jeans, a loose linen top with spaghetti straps that form an 'X' between her shoulderblades on the low back, jacket slung through the straps of her satchel. Her hair is damp from a quick shower, after having spent around half an hour just scrubbing herself from the permeating smoke and astringent stink from the woman's office, and the very act seems to have put her in better spirits. The first thing she does when let in is reach out, to give Lilith a hug if she allows. The moonstone pendant she is never without sways against crimson fabric, scattering motes of rainbow light everywhere.

"Thanks for all of this," she murmurs to the other brunette, before she takes a step aside and lets Alexander give his own greetings. "Oh, god, cookies, too? Where have you been all my life? If you have any scotch, whiskey or bourbon that'd be great." She needs a real drink after everything.

Though after a pause, her expression indescribable. "Can I...?" She gestures vaguely to where she thinks the bathroom is, looking somewhat sheepish.

There's a limited number of protectors for hire at the moment with a serial killer on the loose. As always, it was nothing but the best for an Addington. Ruiz drives her over in one of three possible vehicles. A truck, a police car or a Maserati. All three were at their disposal depending on what the Captain wanted to drive. Erin is wearing clothing she's taken to wearing at the gym lately, items from the fitness department of her favorite boutique and tennis shoes. She asks him up with her so she could hear if he had any input also, since she respected his ideas and opinions. The welcome inside is taken advantage of and she steps in with a tentative smile. "Nothing wrong with Betty Homemaker. I'm in the mood for warm cabernet red. Thank you for inviting us." Isabella and Alexander are greeted with warmth, "It's good to see you."

Alexander slinks in after Isabella. He still smells like smoke and the twisted City Hall (sorry Isabella's Jeep!), and is in the same outfit he was in before. It's also damp, because there was walking in the rain before he got picked up. "Thank you, Miss Winslow," he mumbles a bit, staring at the room rather than at Lilith. "Just some water. For me. Unless you have aspirin? Or anything like that?" A hopeful lilt of his voice, before he moves away to try to find somewhere he can lean against a wall and keep an eye on doors and people. Erin gets a flicker of a smile. "How are you feeling, Miss Addington?"

It's the captain's truck that ends up playing taxi for Erin on the way to Lilith's apartment. Her Maserati is too visible, and his cruiser similarly tends to draw the wrong kind of attention. He's also showered and scrubbed himself off in between the city hall visit, and coming here; not that one could tell by glancing at his ensemble. Jeans and a tee shirt and a ratty ballcap. Stylish as always. "Got anything a little harder than the wine?" he wants to know, his smile for Lilith a bit razor-tipped as he accompanies Erin up.

Lilith lays the squeeze on Isabella in return being the first in the doorway, then she makes gesture through the open loft to the one sectioned off room construction in the place, the bathroom. It has a normal door that's halfway pushed over to close and glows a little in the darkened space with a plug-in nightlight to keep it from being pitch dark on entry. Lilith apparently plans for nightly bathroom trips or has... maybe a little fear of pitch dark from that particular room for some reason, it seems, "Right that way, it even has a door and scented soap. And I do have bourbon, actually. Rocks or no rocks?"

She extends this question to Ruiz about ice and shakes the bottle of brown liquor at him with offering while getting two tumbler glasses down for pouring as suits. Then she pours the red for Erin and gets a bottle of water from the fridge to bring Alexander's way by the wall, not forcing him to find a seat or gesture him in. Since it's open concept, people can either sit at the counter stool chairs that are tall with ergonomic backing, or on the couch and end chair furniture to facilitate conversation. Lilith herself pours a glass of white for her own hand and leaves the respective drinks for everyone else to pick up and seat themselves with at leisure. Then she moves cookies from a wire rack where they're cooling onto two plates, carrying one to the coffee table after setting one on the counter.

"So. That was interesting. Though I wish..." She makes a noise in her throat after looking at the Captain, while bustling around to get everyone settled so she can settle, "It was a less complicated kind of takedown." Then she looks at Erin afterwards with a tiny breath of sigh that sounds like sympathy, "Erin, I'm deferring to whatever you decide as far as the third person decision goes. August and I are both capable, but you have far more personal stake in it, which I understand entirely. I know what you're inclined to do, but how do you feel about it? Know that extracting this... Ghoul might mean you're watching your relative in pain. And I don't... know that he'll survive the separation with his age and them being tied as long as they were. We have to... expect the worst there, too, and be ready to cover that."

Again, she looks at the Captain here, seeming to think that's his wheelhouse in the eventuality.

"Neat." As in, no ice. "Thanks, Lil." Isabella squeezes the other woman in turn, though before she moves for the bathroom, she rifles through her satchel and produces a travel-sized bottle of extra-strength Excedrin; a must for people who bury themselves in textbooks all day for a living. This, she quietly offers to Alexander to take with his water, before she proceeds to go into the bathroom and shut the door securely behind her. She takes a deep inhale, before she proceeds to wash her hands - she intends to partake in the cookies after all - and look up at herself in the mirror.

The pendant reflects its own light, her very own piece of the Aurora Borealis worn close to her heart, and at seeing it flash against fabric through the mirror's reflection, she can't help but look down, and as water swirls down the drain, hot, traitorous moisture starts to sting underneath her lashes. Her fingers reach up to grip the white gold setting, feeling its ice-cold bite dig into her flesh, and squeezes her eyes shut in a stubborn effort to prevent anything from falling. After a brief shake of her head, she lowers it to splash water into her face.

When she returns, she has a towel in her hand. "Lil, may I?" She waves it around, and if the other woman consents, she'll deliver this to Alexander also, since he's carried the rain inside with him. She'll retrieve her glass of bourbon after, and proceeds to drain it completely in a few swallows. She says nothing else, listening for now.

"Much better since Lilith came by the hospital room and worked her magic." Erin manages a grateful smile to her and looks at her surroundings. Impressed, she turns to Lilith, "You have a nice place here. Thank you," accepting the wine and finding a place to park so the hostess could seat herself and the meeting get started. Then it's right down to business. "I can't honestly say that I have reservations, but those notwithstanding, I need to do this. Whatever it costs me, seeing Thomas in pain, losing another family member, I don't know all of the possible outcomes but I'm certain there will be a price to pay. He has hurt so many, I have to see this through to the very end." She doesn't reach for a cookie, just cradles the glass of wine in her hand. "I would like guidance though, before I go. I've not practiced my abilities so much. I rarely have the chance."

Bourbon? Well, it's an improvement over wine. Though most here are familiar with the captain's preferences, as far as liquor go. "No rocks. Por favor." The politesse is tacked onto the end, along with a flickered smile for Lilith. Both seating options are eschewed, for the time being, by the man; he collects his glass once it's poured, and takes up a lurksome lean against the counter as the conversation kicks off. "If he dies in custody, that will certainly create its own problems. Perhaps one of us who can.. mend.. should be on hand to monitor him during the, uh." He searches for the word. "Ritual."

There's another smile from Alexander as the bottle is brought to him. "Thank you," he says, again. His eyes dart here and there, examining the room. It's not the first time he's seen it - but it's the first time he's seen it not in a state of complete wreckage, so he's clearly curious as he spins off the top and takes a drink. Isabella comes up with those Excedrin, and he gives her a bright, warm smile. "And thank you, Isabella." He takes three, then hands the rest back to her, before quickly swallowing them and washing them down with water. The towel is looked at with a touch of exasperation. Fond, but exasperation nonetheless. "It'll dry," he points out to her, but he does take it if Lilith agrees, and put the water down to towel off his hair. He listens, for the most part. But says, "You'll have a healer on hand. You'll have to smuggle in at least three people wherever you stash Thomas," he points out, quietly. "Probably four, since Minerva is the only one who knows how to conduct an exorcism."

"I can do that. I'm not the best at control sometimes with my emotions spun out, and I have healing anxiety in spades, which is why I had to use Byron like a man post. I usually need some kind of bond with someone to do it comfortably. But this isn't about that, it's about something... deeper. And I know how to make myself mindful and use... mm. Tricks, I guess. Do you have something to sacrifice as well?" Lilith smiles a bit with Isabella passing the towel to Alexander, then nods small and solid with understanding to Erin's words, gesturing at the woman that's setting herself up as determined volunteer after the Captain mentions mending, in agreement with Alexander. Then she pauses to look at the others after her question to Erin, turning it outward.

"In fact, everyone that wants a piece in this-- do you have something in mind now to give up that would suit criteria?" Suddenly, the woman looks a little grim as she picks up a cookie and looks toward Isabella and the pendant she always seems to have on and touch at and her lips press. Then she takes her wine and cookie to post up in a sit on the arm of one of the couches so she can see everyone, legs lacing at the ankles.

She'll pour herself a refill, and Isabella, at least, gives herself the time to savor the bourbon this time after the first glass has managed to hit her stomach, and let it warm her stomach, and spread over her chest. Catching up quietly with the rest, another bit of logistics presented, she speaks up, taking a seat near where Alexander leans against the wall. "Who says that the Captain even has to bring Thomas Addington to the precinct, or any location we can't control once he's got him in the car?" she wonders, looking at the rest. "Minerva is the exorcist - I know very little about the Occult, but judging from the way she prepared her apartment for just a seance, I can only imagine what other preparations she'll need to undertake in order to oversee an exorcism, especially one that involves some very powerful people. I think it might have to be a place she can control to start, for the best possible outcome. And I know what it sounds like." Because it basically means kidnapping Thomas Addington under the pretense of a legitimate arrest. "But I think at this point we have to be prepared to go the distance. If there's anything I gathered from the meeting with the Exorcist, it's that. There's no room for half-measures."

And as if reading Lilith's thoughts, her fingers come up again, clutching the moonstone between her fingers, tugging absently on the white gold chain that secures it to her person. The bite is a comfort, it hurts enough to help her think. "I agree with the Captain that another healer should be on hand." A small smile towards Lilith. "Hell, I'm not opposed to having three healers on site if it happens just to make sure everyone involved has enough juice to be able to get the Ghoul out of Thomas' body. Might be that we'd need Erin, Lilith and August there, along with Minerva and Hyacinth. One as the healer conduit, one as the battery to assist the conduit, and one as a secondary battery and back up healer to make sure people stay alive." She pauses. "But I am coming from a position of unbridled overkill. I don't want to lose anyone to this."

"I don't. There's nothing I have that holds any sort of sentimental value. Except.. my mother's ring. It's meant to go to me for the future. My grandmother made certain I got it after she passed. I would normally not want to part with it. It would be difficult. I had pinned such hopes.." She cuts herself off and shrugs. "I suppose the greater good is a better reason." There's genuine sadness but even moreso determination. "Would that be something that could be used? It is all I have left of my mother. My mother that he murdered."

Lilith knows that Byron was running a little late. Stepping into the Veil does not exempt him from his work as a landlord and already he's had a few threats from tenants who were thinking of moving out and one who was adamant about it, especially after the event from last night. There's not much else he can do but take this all in stride even if his responses are no longer reassuring to some of his tenants. When his Rolls pulls up in the pawn shop parking lot, he has his phone to his ear, sounding as patient as he possibly can, "I'm afraid that I don't have the answer for that. The advice that I can give is, if you believe in any way that you're related to any of the victims in the news, you might want to lay low for a while. Otherwise, we're doing the best that we--" Making his way through the shop proper, he heads up the loft stairs, "Can. I have the police Captain on the other line. I'll get back to you, Miss Davies. My apologies."

The loft door opens and he steps in still dressed in his professional attire. "Sorry I'm late. I've had to put out a few fires since the Bayside Apartments suddenly became a magnet for shadow monsters." He's not that sorry. "That's been dealt with for now, as far as I know." Are these things ever dealt with?

"So, felony kidnapping, and conspiracy to commit kidnapping. Yes. Those are definitely things that every person in the room needs on their record. Not to mention the almost certain loss of the Captain's job, inability to ever find another job in law enforcement, and probably jail time, since you are talking about forcibly abducting a member of the most powerful family in the area for an occult ritual, and it's really hard to spin that in any way other than 'you're fucked,' once the DA gets their teeth into it with the Old Lady spitting fire in the shadows." Alexander's voice is rapid and sharp with irritation, although the volume doesn't rise at all. "I realize that may sound condescending, and so will this, but I do think we should try to commit the smallest number of felony offenses we can in this situation." Then he blinks at Byron as the man enters. "Wait. Shadow monsters?"

Ruiz's eyes come up to Isabella when she mentions the word kidnapping. He doesn't look surprised at the suggestion, though he does appear subtly apprehensive. His bourbon is sipped, and he blows a breath out his nose in a short, sharp huff. "Let's confirm with Minerva what she needs in terms of setup." He turns slightly, tugs his baseball cap off, and tosses it on the counter behind him before rifling his fingers through dark, still-damp curls. "I think it's worth reiterating that if we don't have something worthwhile to give, we shouldn't give anything at all." A glance to Erin. "Would parting with that ring change your life?" Byron's arrival is greeted with a curt nod, and a flick of his dark eyes over the younger man before his attention returns to the others. To Alexander, "I'm thinking that instead of arresting Thomas, we'll bring him in on the grounds of taking him into protective custody. With all the murders targeting Addingtons, I think I can make a case to the Chief."

Ruiz adds, "That said. We may have to make compromises in terms of the location for this ritual."

"Good point. I don't think he's going to stand there and just get exorcised or whatever. The three might be in danger too and..." Lilith bats her lashes a few times after Isabella's planning pipe in and nods a bit slowly, her eyes taking a turn toward considering, "And we're the best utility to keep people standing or him disabled, perhaps. What's inside him is due to lash out, if we're being rational and look at all the carnage thus far. We might need to say something nasty and imply we're using Margaret's life as leverage to make what's fully Thomas... fight that from coming out, from the inside. I don't know."

The brunette's brows knit down as she realizes the exorcism could well turn into a battle of lashings and she nods once with her jaw kind of set before taking a drink. Then she hitches a shoulder up at Erin, suggesting, "It depends on how much value I think you place on the material and the sentiment involved. I mean, if you're really worried that it's not enough, I could always nip off a the tip of your pinky finger to toss in." She's probably not serious about that. Is she? Actually, she kind of considered it for herself, maybe that's why it's coming up, but after a moment, she confesses, "I... thought about doing that to myself. But I think I have something else, which clearly... means a lot if I was considering such alternatives in lieu of burying it."

And when Byron walks in, she's draining her glass and looking utterly guilty about giving up whatever that item is if necessary. Shadow monsters are an excellent distraction to latch onto, "... did something happen again, or is this the same ah..." Pushing up, she wonders of him, "Drink?"

No, no it would change nothing either way." A sad little smile, "Chances of a marriage for me are as likely as.." Erin hesitates and waves it off, choosing not to go down that road after all. The wine suddenly gains her interest though, even as she listens. "Protective custody seems to be the best case scenario. I'm not entirely certain my grandmother will go for it. I also worry about leaving her alone once he is taken in. She's always had her brother with her as long as I can remember." Holding out her hand at the suggestion she looks at it, manicured nails facing towards her. "My finger?" Her hand closes into a fist and she closes her eyes. "I can't decide on that impulsively." Ducking her head she breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying not to freak out. Lifting her head she looks between them. "I feel selfish. I don't want to sacrifice anything. Not a part of my body. I don't have anything else."

His voice may not rise, but Isabella's temper certainly does, visibly, and she hooks an arm over her chair, turning her head sidelong to regard Alexander in her periphery, eyes reduced to emerald-gold slits. "Some people in this room have already thought about putting a bullet through the man's head." Words simmering with heat, and while people have danced around the subject of actually saying it, she has no such qualms. It's the truth, deal with it. "And I distinctly remember a recent visit to the hospital where several individuals involved have been adamant about doing whatever it takes to end this, so forgive me for trying to come up with an approach to the problem, or asking questions pertaining to the problem, when boundaries and limitations as to what people are actually willing to do keep shifting!"

Her teeth start to clench, and she rips her eyes away from Alexander at that, to close her eyes and attempt to re-focus herself. Byron's arrival helps, and so does the bourbon, and with Lilith and Erin talking about the latter's ring. Ruiz, though, and his idea, has her nodding quietly - because that makes sense. "Margaret Addington might resist the directive," she says, fighting to keep her voice level, and manages to succeed. "But in light of the professed concerns, it's either that or asking her nicely. Which might be an option also. I don't think she actually wants to commit her brother, either. But at the same time, what we intend to do might not play with...whatever personal agenda she might have in this. I agree though, that we should wait to hear from Minerva as to what she requires regarding space - and gird ourselves if we can't deliver."

He may have come in late but Byron is getting a good grasp of what's currently being conversed right now. After he'd already clicked off on one call, his phone is ringing once again. Something which makes him take the time to send everything straight to voice mail. That mailbox is probably on the brink of being completely full. "And here I was hoping that Thomas Addington, at least, really wanted to help and put a stop to this. But I know people like that. They may mean well," There's a pause there, wondering if he's lying to himself about something, "But I wouldn't count on them to do what needs to be done."

He looks to the group, wandering over to Lilith to place a friendly kiss on her cheek, before heading to the kitchen. Byron's very familiar with what kind of stuff Lilith keeps on hand. For now, he's satisfied with just a cold beer. Getting back to his roots. "I've got it." He tells her so that she doesn't need to stand up. "So have we decided on the Three?" The bottlecap pops open, his eyes looking at the room.

The question that Alexander asks is responded to after Thorne gets some alcohol in him, even if it's in the form of just beer. "The lobby of Apartment A was infested with shadow creatures. You could hear them laughing through the vents. Little monsters, those things." This is another issue that he's had to be put up with, "A delivery boy vanished in the elevator. His delivery was there, but he was gone by the time the doors opened. So his place of employement and his family are looking into that..." But the way that he says this, it's like he'd prefer to dismiss this for now. They had more important things to discuss.

Ruiz looks up and over at Thorne when he mentions the shadow creatures in the lobby of his building, and he makes a bit of a face. He'd been trying not to think about that, and doesn't contribute anything on the subject. Instead, his glass is collected, and he moves over to sit beside Erin. Her hand is reached for and given a quick squeeze before the contact's withdrawn, so as not to be too improprietous. As if the captain's concerned with such things.

"My desire to do whatever it takes to end this hasn't wavered, Miss Reede," he tells Isabella coolly, meeting her gaze without flinching should she look his way. "And yes. She may resist. But I don't think she'll risk doing anything stupid when several armed officers come in to her house to do their jobs. She has her reputation and her standing to preserve. She may hate me, but I will have to accept the risks there." Speaking of doing whatever it takes.

Alexander blinks at Byron. "What. In the real world? That's..." he grimaces. "Disturbing and unpleasant, to be certain." Ruiz's counter-suggestion is met with a nod. "That seems more reasonable. And if you need help influencing him...I don't have to be in the room. Or the building." It's just put out there as a quiet suggestion. Felonies - bad. Violating people's minds - sometimes okay!

And then Isabella turns to him and her temper flashes out at him. He physically recoils, eyes flying wide, guilt and shock there for a moment, before it turns into quick anger in turn. "I've never advocated for murdering the man, so I don't know why you're snapping at me about it. I would just like to see people able to still live in this town after Gohl is gone, without being criminals or losing the things they've worked for!" He realizes his own voice is starting to rise, and his teeth close with a snap. He stands there, practically vibrating, hands clenched into fists.

Then he puts the towel down, and says, to no one in particular, "Call me when you need me." And starts walking towards the door.

"Well, Erin. Don't think of it in terms of what the item is for when you think of giving it up and how much it matters. Think of it like... do you want the last piece of your mother buried in a box with the thing that killed her for eternity? And if the answer is 'no' and it drives you crazy or guilty to think about? Keep your finger and give what you have that's personal. That's how I went about it." Lilith tells Erin with theorizing, settling back down on her perch to eat her cookie after tipping her face into Byron's kiss at the cheek and letting him crack into a beer on his own. Then she's distracted by a bit of a temper elephant in the room, looking between Isabella and Alexander for a lingering moment before deciding to drink long from her glass and mind her own business.

She lets the others work out the angles of technical difficulties, because a lot of her attention seems to be tied to making sure Erin is ready, off and on gauging the woman and her demeanor before she tells Byron in answer, "I believe we do. We just don't know if we need additional on hand to protect the Three because I'm not sure how quietly the ghost is going to come out. Minerva could answer in terms of outside security, perhaps?" She looks at Isabella with a tilt of her head, as if kind of nudging the question to be presented to the exorcist herself. She doesn't have the contact info or acquaintance to ask, herself. Then she carries on for updating Byron with a gesture to the Addington in the room, "Erin wants to be the one instead of me. And I respect that given what she's been through."

Then suddenly she wets her lips and gestures to the other woman with a wine glass, "C'mere Erin. I know you heal. But do you ever work with items or is that unfamiliar to you in comparison?"

Is he serious? "You snapped at me first!" She brought up spiriting Thomas Addington away in a car once he was in it, who else was he being irritated and condescending to? Isabella's expression is evocative in its disbelief as Alexander turns it around; the words are there, piling up from between her teeth, but even if she doesn't say them, they are clear enough. Fury and frustration tighten her expression.

Instead of saying anything, however, she turns her face away from him and takes a sip of her bourbon. She doesn't stop him when he takes his leave. Ruiz gets a nod, but otherwise she takes another swallow of her bourbon. Focus.

Lilith's look has her lifting a hand to scrub the side of her face. "I can ask. I know she can lay down protections, and they were....effective. At least to prevent people from dying if complications arise. But that was a seance. This is an exorcism, but I'm confident that if anyone has an answer regarding that, it's her. Minerva's excellent at what she does."

Erin finishes off her wine in good time and the glass is placed to the side for now. "I've not changed my mind since I was in the hospital. Several of us have spilled blood already over this. Why can that not be enough? Why is almost losing a life not enough? Why does he require more? I can't give more than almost my life unless I give my life. I can't do that. Not without putting up a fight." She's slowly getting ruffled, her normally composed and steady mien isn't holding so well. The gesture from Ruiz helps and she squeezes back, holding it for a touch too long before he withdraws his hand from her.

There, calm. Then Lilith mentions it the way she does and the anger fizzles, the strength fades and she's suddenly crying. Wiping at the tears with her hand she can't keep up, they keep coming. "I .. I'm sorry." Not used to whatever this is, she looks helpless.

The captain is about to go and refill his drink, because would you look at that, it's already drained. But when Erin starts to cry, it occurs to him he should probably do something. To help. Like put his arm around her, and pull her close for a tight squeeze. Something is murmured in her ear, his arm lingers a few moments longer, and then he's pushing to his feet. Empty glass in hand, it isn't the kitchen he's headed for, but the direction Alexander stalked off in.

Lilith casts a small smile of comrade flair after the woman picks up what she's throwing down in regards to security concerns for the Three and asking Minerva about details required. Then she's listening to Erin's outburst rant with a sudden hone in, eyes keen. Her wine glass gets set aside with lean while she watches and lets it all come out, she doesn't say anything when the Captain steps to naturally comfort those tears. But Lilith? While she might understand, she's not moved by them. Instead she starts goading, calm and steady of voice as she rises from her seat on the arm of the couch.

"No, Erin. Back up. Listen to what you just said. Why isn't it enough? Why isn't it fair trade? Get mad. Stay mad. You've lost and lost. Now it's time to fucking win. There's no time or room or reason for apologies. Come here." As if to punctuate her sentiment and advice, Lilith raises her hand out once standing and shatters the screen of her wide-screen television with flash of will and cacaphony of noise. Then she points at the coffeetable with demand, "Break it. What do you have left? BREAK it!"

At Alexander's question, Byron has to consider it, playing it over in his mind, "I believe so. After one of those creatures was shot, there was no waking up. I had to have the little gremlin's guts cleaned off not only the concrete outside of the lobby door, but from the marble flooring inside as well. I may be mistaken. We all might have woken up once we left the lobby. We all might have stepped out of the otherside, but there was evidence that the thing existed here."

He's not opposed to watching other people argue, in fact, he finds it just a touch entertaining when he's there sipping from his bottle. That's when he looks to Erin now, approaching her slowly, "Roen texted me about this. That he believed that you should be the one to do it." There's a half-glance given Lilith, this feeling of relief coming over him. "I was ready to object, but I know just how personal this is to you." He says this even though he was also attacked recently as well, but he was alive. Not only were Erin's parents dead, but she almost died as well. And this was in part due to her uncle.

Then Lilith goes into the whole pep-talk thing and he steps back and just lets the girls go at it. He wasn't here for the rest of the conversation, so this is all he's got for now. "So that's how we're dealing with Thomas Addington? Bringing him to for protective custody? I mean, why not Margaret as well, logically. Not ideally for us."

Why not Margaret Addington also? "I think our chances are greater if we separate them, since Margaret's desires clearly have an impact on Thomas, according to what Erin has managed to tell us," Isabella tells Byron when he poses the question, though her eyes remain fixed on Lilith and Erin when they consult with one another, and bond over their shared Talent. With the latter's tears, though, and never one to be comfortable with the other sides of the human emotional spectrum outside of joy and anger, she does what she can to avert her gaze. This is difficult enough for everyone, without her voyeuring on someone else's pain.

She finally rises from her chair, to move towards where the cookies are, and shoves an entire cookie in her mouth. She's definitely the type to eat her feelings.

The comforting wasn't something she had expected and Erin accepts it for the brief time it is given, but as Lilith expects, the natural progression from grief is anger. White hot anger. Luckily the Captain leaves and she's saved from making an even further fool of herself. What Byron says makes sense and she mutely nods at him before responding to Lilith.

"Her ring, worn from love. My parents were so in love, so into each other even having a child together couldn't separate them enough to allow a third into their relationship. They were so in love. It's why I got her ring. She always said she wanted me to find the same happiness she did and one day the ring would come to me. To give it to her k.." her voice breaks but she manages to continue even shaking as she is from the anger. "Killer, would be the ultimate betrayal to their love. To her and the love that created me." Suddenly the pinky finger wasn't looking so bad. Rising to her feet, she stands by Lilith. The television shatters in a surprisingly pleasing sound of destruction. With a yell, she lifts her hand out as she had before when she was fighting a ginger on an island and she focuses every ounce of pain and anger into her gesture.

Lilith apparently has no qualms destroying her things and encouraging others to do the same. She looks between Erin and the coffeetable expectantly before coming to stand and murmur at the woman's shoulder with next round guidance, bolstering, encouraging, explaining through action, "Very good. Boil and burn. You're supposed to be angry and you use it. But not blindly. Look at that chair." The print-fabric end chair with cute red throw cushion next to where the coffeetable just shattered, "You can break that chair. It's just a chair. But you can also take what's inside and make it a moment. Do you know what a bullet can do, shifted just a fraction of an inch to the left or right when it counts?"

The brunette woman leans into the Addington more with her eyes narrowed, looking at Erin, then the chair while in close enough for her water lilies wash to be smelled, all intensity at low glide from her while she talks with the same directive, steady calm, "You're not just going to break that chair. You're going to control the moment. You're going to will it explosive. Exploit the frame and call it weak because you say it's weak. Imagine it weak because you want it that way. Exploit it. Then let it blow."

The anger is still there at boiling point and she feeds it while Lilith feeds it. Her grandmother telling Thomas how unhappy she was with Erin basically causing the attack. The chair, she could do this, she was certain she could and she could control it this time. There's nothing half way as she extends her arm and swipes it across with deliberate motion, ripping and rending it and to prove a point she directs one particularly long piece, the arm, through the television set. There is not a sound from her as the destruction, like a tornado, destroys the chair and impales the television. She remains there, hand out, just breathing, not wanting to go too far.

It was a heady moment and there was every danger of her continuing on if she wasn't able to stop herself. So she just breathes until the anger, while it doesn't subside, is manageable.

"Sounds like a good enough plan. Makes sense. Though, how many Addingtons will we need to pretend that we're looking after? The Mayor too?" Byron is just making small chit-chat really, enjoying his cold beer while Lilith coaches Erin on how to channel her anger towards an innocent chair. "Speaking of which," He starts with, turning towards Isabella, "I honestly don't know if there's anything that I own that would count as being important enough. What is important to me? Burying my business card? There's really nothing that I own that I have any true attachment to. Not like that." And he owns a lot of things.

It's at that moment where something must have struck a chord with Erin, because the chair begins to shake and tremble, before pieces of it starts to fan out all over the room. In fact, one long shard smashes into the television screen. "Shit. Everyone, down!" He calls out, already too late. The bottle slipping from his grasp and shattering onto the floor, spilling beer everywhere, Byron's attempt at taking cover is thwarted when feels several sharp stings against his coat jacket and slacks. One of those pieces, a nail, even rips through his sleeve.

She keeps one eye focused on the practice; Isabella is learning also, though some part of her can't help but feel uneasy about it, watching Lilith glow like a star on the cusp of reaching its full brilliance, and Erin doing very much the same. She can't help but remember, and with her emotions already heightened, it is taking everything in her not to tell them to stop. She has no right, and at this point, it is counterproductive. No half-measures, if they want to succeed in the trials to come.

She shoves another cookie in her mouth - they're very delicious and she'll probably leave her after gaining five pounds on the spot - before turning to look over at the sharp-dressed entrepreneur. "I think we've already bitten more than we can chew in that regard," she tells him straightforwardly, lifting her hand to roll her thumb against her nosebridge. "We should concentrate on Thomas Addington and what we can do for him, since he's the key. Hyacinth can convince the rest of her relatives to stay with her and her safe room, if she likes, but I think it would have to come from her. Other than that, regarding the rest of the family, I have no idea." She takes another swallow of her bourbon, before her expression gentles. "Ronnie, if you have nothing to give, then don't give anything. I think at this point, burying something that doesn't quite measure up might make things worse. Unless you really do want to. Every little bit helps, considering half his body is missing, and if you are, I can think of a way, but I don't know if you'll like it, either. It's-- "

Everyone, down!

Pieces of chair fly, and the young woman tries to move, but it's too late. A chair leg whips outward, crashing into her, aggravating the metallic braces, bolts and screws hiding underneath her surgical scar. Other splinters fly, cutting a small gash on her forearm, and under her right shoulder. There's a soft groan, fingers moving to clutch onto her left shoulder, leaning back against the table to keep herself on her feet. "Wow...that was some..." Lifting pain-filled eyes to the other two women, and the decimation left behind, she can't help but smirk, and in spite of the minor injury, flashes them a thumbs-up.

Now that the anger is out and fed and encouraged and Erin feels those moments to the core, Lilith changes tact after dodging a flying piece or two. She whistles approval and seems to be expecting shrapnel better than the others. A heads up probably would have been considerate, but this is Lilith and she forgets about the AOE effect that her carnage she's either wrecking or encouraging... sometimes does. Whoops. After a glance cast at the others, though, they seem fine enough and she's kind of distracted anyway so there's no real apology or fussing with her as intense as she is at the moment. She's very focused on the last thing she has to prove the Addington can do for herself, or what she can do for the other woman in turn.

Lilith steps in front of Erin while she breathes and places her hands with reach to her shoulders to steady and stabilize her, explaining quietly before her hands draw away and she backpedals a few paces, arms out a touch to indicate openness to survey. And her doll-like wide blue eyes are utterly narrowed with intensity, waiting and watching.

"Now. Remember how you shifted the moment with that chair. And look at me. Really, really, really look at me, inside, outside, see me burn and glow and shine. Feel everything inside me rumbling to come out because it's so strong, I don't know what to do with all of it sometimes. Feel it. See it. And imagine yourself just that little bit more. Match me. Be me. Just because you say it's so. And remember what it feels like to burn."

While Lilith is standing there, seemingly doing nothing, the air around the living room starts to grow cold while the immediate air starts to shimmer with combustible heat and indicator of fire without flammable substances. She's not harnessing the heat she's drawing and throwing it though, she's demonstrating the way she ignites the very air itself, speeding up all those tiny molecules that bounce in the air in her immediate area. She's just setting a bar for Erin to reach for in the future.

"Don't do anything but remember what you see inside me, right now. And hold it, Erin. You hold it. Shine and show me you feel it."

Belatedly Erin realizes she was bleeding. Standing there just breathing the pain hadn't registered. It does now! Wood splinters and a L-shaped bracket had flown at her. The splinters were mostly superficial but the bracket sliced across her arm near her wrist and left a bleeding cut. Cupping her arm, Erin turns and realizes the carnage she'd left around her. Immediately contrite. "Oh God. I'm sorry about that!" She's not bleeding bad. Just a slice. She's definitely not dying.

At Liliths steps she looks curious, holding on to that anger but still a bit contrite over what she had done. It was a lot to ask but Erin steadies herself, focusing. She remembered some of what happened when she had been healed, how she had felt Lilith use Byron. SHe sees her outside but suddenly her eyes flicker out of focus and she breathes in. And there Lilith was, all lit up for her to see and it scares her she focuses her eyes again. Standing there, she's interested so she does it again, focusus on the glow and she can see it then she can feel it in herself. Nothing so brightly as Liliths, but it was a start. Her eyes come into focus again and she looks at Lilith then the others, proud of what she had accomplished.

Before Byron even has a chance to respond to Isabella's bit of advice, he's already down on the floor, crouching with one hand covering his bloody bicep. And here he thought he was starting to get lucky by not having his suits ruined in most recent days despite everything he's been through. "I swear.." He mutters lowly, eyes on Isabella now as he makes his way in her direction. At first, he starts in a crawl-- one of the dreams he was pull into was an actual war zone, so the need to remain covered is strong.

However, on realizing that nothing else was going to explode, he slowly draws himself up to stand, feeling an annoying bruise on his thigh. "Bella you alright?" He moves carefully towards her, then gingerly drops down into a crouch to look her over. There is one point that his gaze shifts to the two women, but he's making sure that nothing else was going to go wrong.

Leaning against the table, if this is going to continue, it's probably not a good idea to sit around without cover, regardless, and there aren't exactly any blast shields around. So Isabella slowly sinks down on her knees behind the couch, legs curling. Byron's longer, leaner form moving to crouch next to her, her hand drops from her shoulder - that is going to bruise, but the rest are scratches. "I'll be alright," she murmurs reassuringly, though at seeing the half-exasperated, what really? look on her friend's face, she can't help but grin.

Her hand reaches behind her, into her back pocket to produce a bandanna, and this, she attempts to press against Byron's bleeding bicep, if he allows. "She's using a lot, teaching Erin," she says quietly, nodding to Lilith. "Whatever you or I can do to lessen the burden and responsibility of patching us up, we should." If he wants it, she'll apply pressure on the wound.

Byron was already removing his suit jacket, feeling the discomfort from doing so as the movement along agitates the wound. This leaves the bloody buttoned down which is still white, but it was a growing bloom of blood at a section that was torn open. "Lessen the burden of patching ourselves up?" Looking down at his arm, "I'll probably visit the ER, see if it needs stitching and to see if if my tetanus shot is still going strong." There's some humor in his voice, his eyes on the bandanna. It might sting now, but it will heal. He doesn't pull away from the aid given, his eyes staring at the two healers from where they are both crouching.

"You know that this is as personal to me as it for everyone. It's not like I wasn't attacked either." That is still up for debate, whether Gohl, Thomas or Margaret had a hand in it. "I have people moving out of my apartment building in droves," he's probably exaggerating, but a few have threatened, "So yes. This is something personal to me and I'd said before that I was here for the long haul." She said that he wouldn't what she may suggest, but he asks anyway, "What else do you have?"

Finally, Lilith stops being laser-focused and intense and all the heat shimmer drops away from around her to fan back out to natural warmth in the room, taking away from the chill that was left from drawing heat all toward herself. She smiles some at Erin, makes a little noise in her throat when she sees the arm bleeding right nearby, finally, then looks at Byron and Isabella smartly crouched. Then she looks at the splintered chair, the broken glass, the springs and framing pieces and fluff all around and instead of fixing it right away, she steps over some of it to go get towels from the bathroom to pass out, as well as a first aid kit.

"Sorry. She needed to be ready. And blood is better than tears, for this." Says the woman NOT bleeding out of the three of them, go figure. She passes out the towels and lets people do the damage control needed while still trying to unwind herself, hand shaking with adrenaline as she reclaims her wine glass, drains it, then goes to refill it. She had been calm, but she had been goading so much energy it was like a contagion on herself and it's kind of showing now that she's not performing for Erin's behalf.

"You can do it, Erin. Just use everything inside to exert and don't hinder a thing with fear or doubt when it's time. I promise. I can... see you better than a lot of others can. I know what you can do. Trust."

She doesn't look at him, and concentrates on winding the bandanna around his bicep, securing it tightly enough to add pressure into it without her having to apply it herself. Isabella then coaxes Byron gently to lift up his elbow, his forearm at an angle, to a level above his heart. It's easy to forget, after everything, that the young woman is a field researcher, with several expeditions under the sea and above ground under her belt. Some basic knowledge of first aid has come in handy on multiple occasions.

Something twists inside her - it helps that she isn't looking at Byron's face, but she knows him. She doesn't need to look at him to know the look he's giving her at the moment. But she doesn't want to tell him. She doesn't want to. But if he's willing after all, wouldn't every little bit count? Wouldn't it lessen some of the burden on the others?

"Give up a memory," is what she ends up saying, her jaw set as she keeps her eyes fixed on the bandanna, her fingers resting on his arm, helping him keep it aloft. "With a powerful enough reader, like Hyacinth, you can imbue it in an object...and once it's time to pay your tribute, you lose it forever." After a moment, she lifts her eyes to fix them on Byron's face. "The Exorcist said the cost must be paid by you, with something that belongs to you, and the Captain is right, these sacrifices...they can't just be anything. The loss of it has to matter, and giving something up that would change your life if you didn't have it is as good of a criteria as anything to follow and make sure that it counts."

"You throw quite a party." Erin says quietly to Lilith after realizing the destruction was permanent. "I can pay you for that chair. And those blinds. And the sofa. And the television." Everything had splinters! "Are you going to be okay, Lilith?" She gives a tentative smile. "I believe that I just may be able to. And thank you for trusting me to do this. I know it's big but it's something I need to do."

It's then Erin hears Isabella and she inhales softly. "A memory? Oh what I wouldn't give for that one. I'd gladly give one up. But that's not the point. I know what I will be losing." A determined set of her jaw she braces for that shaft of pain she is sure she'll always feel when she thinks about it. "But then again if it's the right memory it can be more treasured and valued than any mere possession." It was a good call, the memory loss. But it would be a painful one for whoever chose it. "A memory that matters.."

Byron is an easy patient for the most part. When Isabella lifts and angles his forearm just so, he lets her. With her being so close now, helping him, he scans her to see if she was injured at all. He does catch sight of the wound on her arm, shaking his head slowly. "You need to tend to yourself first. I'll be fine." Lilith here is passing out towels that will be stained in blood. "I've been hit with worse."

The place was a mess, there were splintered wood, fluff and metal everywhere. The pieces of shrapnel even reach as far as the couch that gets a wound of its own. Nothing that will make it uncomfortable for anyone who wished to use it, however. Then his eyes fall on Lilith, gaze lifted up to her when she hands him a towel. She looked wound up as far as he could tell, but she was still dealing with Erin, so he'll leave it at that.

"A memory?" Byron echoes Erin's own question. "What kind of memory?" It's an intriguing option to him, yet despite his troubled past, it was still something that he found difficult to grasp. "What I mean is, can it be a bad memory? Is it a single moment in time or can it wipe away all of the," Bad Things, "Wipe everything that goes with that emotion." This is also when something he's told catches his attention, "We can-- She can do that?" He knows that Hyacinth shares the same powerset with him, so it was something that he'd need to test out.

"Eh. This place has looked much worse and it's easy for me to repair, which is self-cleaning, kind of. It's my thing. I like doing it. I'll fix it all later, just... not right now. Gradually. So I don't..." Lilith drops down into a lay on the bed once she's had more wine and holds the glass in balance on her stomach while staring at the ceiling, trying to force-comedown from all the pent up, unleashed energy she bade up into the air with violence kept harnessed instead of let loose to burn. And her eyes close as she listens to the others talking about giving up memories as a possibility, especially Byron, because...

Breathing out a soft sigh to herself that sounds like wounding, she opens her eyes again and sits up on the edge of the bed with her hair a little kinked up big and tousled from lay out and quick sit up, all marked up with waves from the braid it was in earlier. Then she confirms Erin's concern with a more focused nod of her head and really looks at the damage that was done by her particular brand of training choice in a small space. She works her bottom lip between her teeth, but doesn't offer to take the woundings, even for the man in the room, surprisingly, "First aid kit on the counter if you want to be thorough."

What kind of memory?

That's the clutch, isn't it? Slowly withdrawing her fingers from Byron, Isabella takes the towel from Lilith once they're passed around, smiling faintly before she stands up and presses it against her own scratches. There's a bruise on her left shoulder, but that will heal, and after a few moments of careful pressure on the gash on her forearm, she starts for the first aid kit, a grateful glance to Lilith when she points it out. She folds the towel carefully once she reaches it, and opens it.

She tends to herself, first - just a few band aids, and she's fine. She also reaches for the bourbon glass she has neglected once practice had started, because she needs it. She nearly swallows the entire thing in one go. Glimmer use, especially its more complicated nuances, has never been an easy subject for her to discuss, but the longer she stays here, the more she remembers of her genius brother's experimentations. Sid's token, the moonstone gem, feels heavy against her heart.

"I've been thinking about it a lot ever since talking about it with August," she finally says, turning to look at the others. "When we first found William Gohl's bones, they've been scrubbed of anything that could identify it - no emotions, no images, no memories of any kind. We talked about how the abilities seem to have a flip-side. A reverse aspect. Sword and shield. Cutting and healing. With reading...if you can scrub a set of bones, organic materials that came from a person once living, you can probably do the same with a living person. Considering the forces at play here, I think it's going to require the most powerful reader we know. That's Hyacinth, from our group."

She glances down at her glass. "It's theory, but I think it makes sense. As for what kind of memory, I think it needs to matter, but Ronnie...you have to understand that erasing something as necessary as the things we have to give up, it will change you. Irrevocably. Especially if you choose to forget a person."

There's already a bandanna wrapped around his bicep, but he'll press the towel against it to catch up any blood that may have soaked through. Even after Isabella stands to make use of the first aid kit, Byron remains seated with that towel against his arm. The beer bottle he was drinking from and beer within had spread all over the floor as well. He'd already helped to clean this place up once, looks like it's another clean up job again.

"I know about wiping items of memories. It's something that I've done in the past." He's actually quite familiar with that particular ability. It's been useful to him before. "So there is a way to wipe someone's memory? But for how long?" He's very intrigued now, though just the idea of it was rather unnerving. Slowly, he pulls himself up to stand, wincing slightly at the sting. He then joins Isabella at the counter where the kit was.

"I know that it needs to matter." He states quickly, wanting her to make sure that he understands how important this is. "There are people in my life who I would love to forget. Situations. Experiences. We all have that don't we? Do they have to be good?" There's an almost playful quirk of his brow. Gathering up more towels and removing the one from his arm for the time being, he returns to the sight where he'd spilled his beer, carefully crouching down to pick up each shard of glass to lay out within one of the towels. There's this thoughtfulness in his features when he works, then there's a sudden pause at this look on his face. Either a daydream, a racing thought or a memory.

Erin accepts the towel to clean up with a wry smile. "Thank you. For everything." Watching Lilith there, she looks concerned. "It drains you doesn't it? I wondered if one ever took the pain of the wounds on themselves for a time, but that doesn't seem the case." Also intrigued by the memory option, not for herself but others, she says softly. "It has to matter." Things said to her before.

"Not quite. Adrenaline. I just stirred everything up inside and powered it up and... tamped it back inside instead of letting it go to shine for you there for a moment, the strongest way I know how. It's... still rumbling inside. But it's okay. I'm thinking straight now. I found it a place in there, somewhere." Lilith tells Erin with explaining, kind of gesturing with her free hand about her person sitting there on the edge of the bed, drinking the rest of her refilled wine down like it was the first glass she knocked out. She looks at Byron for a moment, then rises up to go put her glass down on the counter.

After some rummaging, she pulls out a stress and drinking pack of Camels to carry over and pop the window open with, posting up with lean against the wall to stare out while the others talk about memories. Once she has a smoke out between her lips, she tosses the pack onto the counter as invite for the others in a half-ass sense and folds one arm about her midriff with tiny exert of power to light the tip of the smoke with flare up. It's barely a blip on her radar that she's done it. Apparently some things are so ingrained at her level out of habit, she just does them without thinking.

And after that bit to Erin, she's very, very quiet while smoking and blowing it out into the air above Elm Street's sidewalk below.

Isabella purses her lips. "Wipe it, or alter it. I don't think it matters so long as it's what you pay, and what you pay is something that matters to you. As for whether it has to be good..." She hesitates. "I'm sorry, Ronnie. I just don't know. By history and lore, sacrifices often have to be two things - vital, and permanent. If we're going by the Bible, Abraham strapped his own son, Isaac, down on an altar because God asked him to. It's an idea, based on the things I've managed to collect about..." She taps her head demonstratively. "Past and present. What you decide, in the end, is up to you."

Her fingers tighten on her moonstone. "If all of us are in this until the end of the line, we have some very difficult decisions to make in the next few days. I don't think anyone has to decide right now, but I think the important thing to realize is that whatever we decide to throw in the pyre, it's going to be permanent, and most of us, if not all of us, are going to change after, if we put the right offerings into the fire."

There's a glance at the cigarette pack that Lilith tosses on the counter, and there's temptation there. She almost reaches for one - but smoking is bad for divers, so she refrains with a quiet sigh. "Anyway, that's all I got. I think..." She lets out a breathless laugh, pressing her fingertips against her lids. "I think I need sleep. My temper has been a monster the last few weeks."

Once all of the glass pieces have been collected onto the towel, Byron uses two more towels, one to soak up most of the spilt beer, the other to wipe up what the first towel didn't absorb. Taking all of these towels in hand, he proceeds to the sink. "I'm glad we have some time to think on it, so that we can go through everything that we can remember for good or bad and figure out how we would change as a person," That to him is still odd. Their personalities were already formed by then, without that piece of baggage or cherished memory, how could it alter them at this very moment? "Can change a person." He'll rinse out the two towels used to absorb the beer, while leaving the third with the glass on it sitting on the counter.

He returns back to the scene of the crime and wipes the floor up once more, this time with the damp towel.

"That gives us some idea on how to help, so... it might not be the best of news, but it's what we got to work with." Once the deed is done, he draws himself back up, "Thanks, Bella." He breathes in deep, "Get some rest. I think we all could follow that lead." Before he returns to the kitchen for another rinsing, he looks to Erin for a long moment. Yes, his suit was damaged and he was still bleeding. And there was a mess to clean up here. He does muster up a smile and reassuring words, "You did great. And... while my protective side doesn't want you to go through with this. I know that you'll be able to do what needs to be done."

Then that leaves Lilith, who he spies off to the side when he rinses out the final towel.

Erin had fallen silent but Byron was right. "I should get home and shower and do some long hard thinking." There's a brave smile to Byron though. "Thank you. I owe you a suit. Next time you're heading into Seattle for shopping, I'll ride along. I could use some more clothing. And get you a suit." She smiles to the others. "If the Captain is still out here anyway!" It was quiet. "Lilith if you need anything, help cleaning or a new television or anything please let me know. Thank you for helping me gain some confidence." And Isabella. "Whatever you give up I hope it doesn't change you too much. I like this you. Baxter or no," she teases lightly. "Call or text anytime, anyone of you, if you need anything at all."

Lilith just continues to stare out of the window, letting people clean themselves, the floor, or whatever they like at leisure while she stands listening, or thinking instead. But definitely smoking. She's hitting that thing pretty hard and blowing it out in quick exhaled puffs to trail out into the wind. Then she's being spoken to and she kind of looks at Isabella like she's not sure what to say before saying quietly, to them both, "Take care. I'm sure we'll see each other soon." Then she's back to looking out of the window, tamping some ashes free with free hand knocking back and holding through some of her waved hair.

To Erin, Isabella smiles. "You were magnificent, and Lilith is an excellent teacher - that and the theory about the three people needing to be a mover, reader and healer? All hers. With the two of you, you've got this." She is not prone to flattery, unless she's flirting, and even then it tends to be brutally honest - these words leave her with the decisive, conclusive notes of a woman stating facts as she sees them. Swallowing the last of her bourbon, she shrugs on her jacket, to hide the band aids lining her arm and the bruise on her shoulder.

What Erin says, about what she has to give up, causes some of that smile to fade. "You're not so bad, either, for an Addington," she jabs back instead, as usual quick to don humor as armor, and flashes the other woman a wink. But her fingers grip her moonstone tight, and while the wells of grief are pressing up from the storm-lids she has kept upon them, she determinedly plants her internal boot on them. Just a few more days.

But with goodbyes given, and with a quiet, but concerned glance cast on Lilith's back as she smokes out the window, she turns to head out the door.