Comfort seemed like a far-off impossibility right now. But... no, Hecate was right, of course. Qebhet would not feel close to comfortable again till she'd shed this monstrous skin, but sitting dripping on the floorboards amid the muck of feathers and bile was no way to have this conversation.
She took Hecate's hand gingerly, conscious of her tainted skin, not wanting to jab her with the malformed feathers. (She had a distressing memory of baring her fangs at the goddess before, of venom welling up in her mouth before she could stop it. Gods, she could have hurt somebody!)
Qebhet stood on shaky legs. "I, um... I'll just be a moment. There's tea in the kitchen, please, help yourself to anything."
She stepped into the bathroom to strip off her sodden clothes. She averted her gaze from the mirror as she did, but the flicker of reflected movement played at the corner of her eye, and dread and morbid curiosity inexorably drove her to look.
She almost sobbed at the sight. The creature in the mirror barely looked human.
Qebhet wrapped a bathrobe tight around herself, forced herself to take a few slow breaths, then rejoined Hecate in the lounge room.