[What she was on the seventh was comforting. Soft white hair, skin that has lost its plasticity and bunched in places humans fret over... an aura that matches her eyes - a human that has seen more than a human should, and came out of it. No. It was her.

She lifts her hand, expression mild, nearly soft. As much as she hadn't reacted as Kitty might have, the wings little more than a brush of sensation. Bartimaeus did have a really good sense for how to pet a bird.]

Apology accepted.

Rubbish, isn't it? Gets you right there in the core, all achy. I didn't understand how you humans standed it.