Owner	Pose
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia received a text from Cael saying that she wanted to come over and talk. Unsurprising since news had gotten word to her that Jon had died. She had wondered how she'd react when she finally got the news, how she would feel.     She felt sadness, but not loss. In its stead a grim kind of determination had formed. Jon was dead, this is true. Nobody should have to suffer that kind of trauma, least of all Jon. He was a good man and he deserved a better fate. But of anybody in the Justice League Dark, Lydia is the one who knows that death isn't always final. Yes, Jon was dead, but she is going to do everything in her power to bring him back.     So it's no surprise that Cael would want to talk to her, now. She got to her apartment early to warm it up and to pull out her coffee maker that she keeps for guests who like it. Her eyes wander over to the heated terrarium sitting on her coffee table where half a dozen scarabs live. /Soon/, she thinks with equal amounts of disgust and aversion. She /really/ doesn't want to eat one of those.
Cael Becker	There's a rap at the door as Cael arrives at Lydia's apartment, having flown in using the wings her amulet granted her. She's been finding them to be a //very// convenient way of getting around - especially when she didn't want to deal with too many people. The young SHIELD agent is dressed in her usual fashion, with jeans, a sweater to protect her from the chill, and her leather jacket over the top. Her hands are still the angry red color you get from a sunburn - and peeking out from the sleeve of her jacket, is a leather cuff in blue, teal and gold to match the colors dyed into her hair - with cutout shapes to make it look like a kaleidoscope of butterflies.     Heavy bags under her eyes hint at how little sleep she's gotten recently, and the slump of her shoulders futher telegraphs her current mood - though she manages a small smile when she door opens. "Hey, uhh... thanks for seeing me."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia gives the agent a gentle smile when she answers the door. "Come on in. I've got coffee brewing, if you'd like some. Fig Newtons if you want something to nibble." She takes a step back to let Cael into her apartment. It's not as clean as she usually keeps it. The coffee table holds the terrarium, and the dining room table is littered with books, papers and Egyptian artifacts.     "Here, sit," she says, motioning to one of the dining room chairs as she makes her way into the kitchen to make the coffee. "How can I help? May I give you a hug?"
Cael Becker	"I'm not really hungry," Cael replies, before adding, "Chief Carter made me eat." She winces at how defensive that sounds. Smooth, Cael. Smooth. You're clearly //just fine//.     She follows Lydia into the room, though the offer of a hug has her posture stiffening in automatic response. "...no thanks. Just the coffee will be fine," she answers.     "That and- well. I have something I need to ask about the trip to Duat - to retrieve Jon, and umm... set reality to rights. You had a vision that said we need the three champions." She drops into one of the chairs before she asks her question. She wants to be sitting when she hears this answer.     "...what if we don't have all three?"
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia nods, expecting Cael's refusal for her hug. It's in her nature to hug, so she felt compelled to offer. "It's just a Columbian," Lydia says as she retrieves the pot and pours Cael a cup. "It's my father's favorite and I don't know enough about coffee to really tell a difference anyway." She chuckles as she brings the mug over to her. "Well, /now/ I can. Enhanced tastebuds and everything but I'm not an aficionado of coffee like I am tea."     Settling in, her brows furrow. "I didn't really have a vision. I met with Isis and we had a conversation about it, Why?" And then Cael lets the shoe drop. "Oh." Her lips pull into a frown, "I... don't /know/ what the champions function is supposed to be once we get into the halls of the dead. My gut tells me that it'd be possible without all three, but it would be infinitely harder."     "Who isn't coming? Were you unable to convince Ms. Fairchild to accompany us?"
Cael Becker	"Look, as long as it's coffee - I'm not complaining, right now." Cael accepts the cup - lifting it to her lips for a sip. If the warm mug bothers her angry-looking hands, it certainly doesn't show on her features.     "Fairchild's in. She's determined to help Jon. She- she deeply regrets the role she's played until now, and- ...and Jon died protecting her from Michael," Cael explains.     She stares down at the coffee cup as she adds more quietly, "Lady Death was killed, as well. I was, umm... so focused on what was happening to Jon, that I failed to notice she was in trouble."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia is silent for a moment as she takes in this information. "That.... does put a crimp in the situation," she says darkly. Suddenly she stands up and makes her way back into the kitchen. "Do you want some whiskey? I want some whiskey." What she really wants is a drink that will take the edge off... something that isn't blood... so she'll just have to make do with what's on hand.     She pulls out a couple of glasses and plunks an orb of ice in each. "I would think that dying for somebody named 'Lady Death' would work a bit differently than for us. She opens the cabinet over the fridge with a glowing tendril of ectoplasm and pulls out a bottle of the amber liquid and pours two glasses. "I was doing research on what to expect in the Duat so we can be more prepared, but I'll have to shift gears to see how hard it will be to get Lady Death back."     She sets the whiskey glass down in front of Cael and takes a sip of her own. "Because it's either that or panic."
Cael Becker	"I would love somem fucking whiskey," Cael agrees. She takes the glass - but also indicates to have some poured directly into the coffee, and it's this she continues to focus on, letting out an almost relieved sigh at the taste. //That's// what she needed.     "I'm in the middle of panicking," she confirms quietly. "And... and kicking myself, for not-" Her right hand moves away from the coffee mug, touching the vibrantly colored leather cuff on her left wrist. "I was supposed to let go. I was supposed to let Jon //go,// and I didn't. I let it distract me, and-" And this is why loved ones aren't supposed to go on missions together.     "What a fuck up."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia scowls at Cael's self recrimination. "It's /hard/ to act rationally when your loved one is hurt in the battlefield," she says eventually. "I've been there. Mystique nearly died on me and when they finally pulled her out of that God forsaken hole, I just... dropped everything and abandoned everyone to be with her, so I understand. You're not a fuckup, Cael. You're just human."
Cael Becker	Cael shakes her head - a small, jerky motion as she stares down at her coffee. "But I failed him," she breathes quietly. "And if- if we can't get Lady Death back, somehow, then- Then I've made everything harder, if not impossible. All I could think of was getting to Jon - getting past Uriel. Jon was pinned, and I couldn't-"     Her breath starts to pick up in speed - shakey and panicky, as it starts to border on hyperventilating. It's hard not to be sucked back into that moment, her blind panic as she screamed for Jon and struggled to get past Uriel, only to be blocked at every turn. And the sight of a sword - running through Jon's chest.     She tightens her hands around the warm coffee mug, trying to focus instead on the present - on the heat of the mug painfully soaking into burned hands. There was no good to come of letting herself wallow in that moment again.
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia seems to be at a loss as to what to do when Cael starts to have a panic attack, when she suddenly realizes something. "Where's Bear? He should be here for your panic attacks." She tries hard to think calmly. She's never had to calm somebody down and it doesn't help if she panics with her. "Cael... breathe. You need to breathe. Just.... focus on breathing okay? Deep breaths."
Cael Becker	"At the Trisk," Cael replies simply - as she does indeed focus on her breathing, and on the smell of the coffee, and the feel of its heat stinging her still-burnt fingers. She lifts the coffee to her lips, getting a taste of the coffee and whiskey in her mouth to focus on.     Ground yourself in the present. Ground yourself in what you can small, and feel, and taste. //That's// how you head these things off - and really, that's what Bear helped her to do. It was possible to do that without the dog. Harder, maybe. But possible.     Once she's managed to drag herself back from the memory of Jon's death, she pushes herself to her feet abruptly, knocking back Lydia's whiskey regardless of its quality. "I should- I should probably just go. I just wanted to make sure you knew about- well, about what happened. What we're really up against. I hope we can still pull it all off."