Lily watched with tired eyes as the feathers ruffled slightly as her finger relented its touch, the smallest movement from Finn accompanying it. “I prefer them like this as well.” Her voice remained quiet. “I don’t know if I could have stopped the chicken jokes from leaving my lips if they had stayed like that.” A small purr of laughter drawn from her, subdued and calm. Her breathing had been brought back under control, now all that was left was the lingering dread in her bones that ached for her to run.

She didn’t want to think about it. Her hand curled a single finger once more, brushing the feathers again, a slightly longer stroke with her knuckle. “I still think it’s strange that you just popped out with them.” She spoke as she moved her finger, her eyes trailing the movement. It was calming, not far removed from the same soothing feeling as a cat might bring with its rhythmic purring.

A small hum before she spoke. “They’re soft.” A comment she made more to herself than to the man the feathers were attached too. Her focus on distracting her mind from its inner workings.

Callisto saw a vague shape begin to lurk towards him, at first he felt the hair on his arms stand up. Unsure if it was in fact Xevon, but the glowing red eyes brought comfort to him as they pierced out from the darkness. He knew already, Callisto supposed his slightly panicked name calling was a give away. His head dipped in agreement to his question.

“She’s remembering how she was sent here.” His eyes distraught, a trickle of her emotions had flooded Callisto himself, it wasn’t a pretty sight to see some one in distress like that. Yet, Xevon had changed their course of conversation.

Callisto’s eyes widened a little as he watched a hand gesture to the black from which Xevon had emerged from. “You want me to see?” His words came out carefully, he did not want to spook his friend into a sudden refusal, a withdrawal of his invitation.

“If you desire me to come with you, I will.” Callisto’s small lick of a more historical language leaked through sometimes. He had learnt more common and modern terminology from the living that had been sent here over the years, but he was an ancient man at heart.

Her eyes lifted from her hand as the feathers beneath it began to slide away, revealing the light of the hotel room ahead of them. For a second, a bleat of panic caught her, a momentary pause in her breathing before she managed to cool herself off. It was only the two of them in the room, she assured herself.

Lily’s hand slowly fell to sit limply on the sheets beside her as she listened to Finn. “Callisto.” She pronounced each syllable of his name clearly, sounding it out for the first time. “He mentioned a blessing too. I would not call a blood explosion a blessing.” Her head turned to look back up at him briefly as the light of the room entered their little cocoon.

“What if each time I sleep, I see those memories again?” She worded her question carefully, he wouldn’t have a real answer, but she needed to voice her concern. “I’ll never be able to get any rest.” A defeated look crossed over her features, the light from the room catching her eyes now that his wings had unfurled far enough.

Shield from the truth? Callisto’s brows knitted together in concern, whatever it was that Xevon was about to show him, it was clearly difficult for him to allow Callisto to see it. He trailed after him, into the darkness that he didn’t dare to venture into before. Making sure to keep his pale figure close to Xevon’s darker one, as to not lose him in the dimmed area.

“Thank you.” Callisto’s voice was low, a hand lifting to gently touch his companion’s shoulder. His head ducked down a little, the smallest play of a smile on his lips. “I am sure it will be fine.” His reassurance meant not only to soothe the winged man, but to wrangle his own concern.

His eyes drifted back towards the door, a beat of silence moved between them before Callisto took in a deep breath and moved through the door. His eyes taking a moment to adjust to the light. Or rather the lack of it. A few shadowy shapes on the floor came into focus. Clothing, battered drawers from beside the bed, it looked like a tornado had ripped through the room. A tight grimace pulled at his lips, a rough pull from the scar tissue on the left causing it to be lopsided.

His head tilted up, to survey the rest of the room. Callisto felt cold, impossibly so considering he was already dead. There were almost black streaks around the room, a spray on almost each corner of the room. The low light still allowing the red undertone to be visible to his slightly enhanced eyesight. A soft gasp spilled from his lips, gentle eyes widening as he pieced things together. Why would Xevon ever want to return to this space? It was a horrific sight, let alone a comforting place to spend time alone.

His form twisted quickly to look for Xevon, once he found him, his expression wilting into a mixture of shock, sorrow and guilt. “This is not…” He started but from the look on his friend’s face, it was indeed what he suspected. “I am so sorry.” Callisto’s voice was deepened, he drew close to Xevon. As he started to move, he flickered with indecisiveness, unsure if what he was about to do would be met with a snarl or not. He had little time to retract his action anyway, he’d bore the brunt of the man’s irritation before. He pulled Xevon into his chest, albeit a little roughly, offering a tight hug. “I am so sorry, I did not know this is where you would go.”