all you have to do is breathe

[greatestofthese]

Who: Charity Burbage and you!
What: An arrival.
Where: The arrival rooms, Valhalla Inn
When: Shundi evening.
Warnings: aaaaftermath of horrible violence???

Her first thought is this isn't what I expected death to feel like.

The second is: what the hell is this?

She seems to be in a small room—small enough to be called a cell, really, with a single table and all done up in an inoffensive green color.  It might be tile; her vision is fuzzy.  If this is the afterlife, it's a bit disappointing so far.

And her head is killing her. It sounds like someone's saying in her ear, but she can't quite make out the words through the ringing and in any case, who would be talking to her? It must be her imagination. She tries to make a movement to get up, but her limbs still won't respond.

...if she's dead, shouldn't she not be Petrified anymore? Well—that's getting a bit into the metaphysical. But still, all the same, what that might mean for her: somehow...

—she's still alive.

Comments

that moment when you use the wrong account.

[subtlescience]

He doesn't immediately intervene; there is a distinctly dangerous line he's walking now, and Burbage has already said enough to put him in a questionable light. So he remains silent, meeting withering stares with an arched brow and taking to the idea of foisting the woman off on a doctor quite well.

A doctor not at Hellsing. If there are two paths he would like to prevent from crossing one another, it is Burbage's with Martha's.

He produces a second vial, presses it into his ex-colleague's hand; it could be something for the pain - is probably for the pain - but at the moment, he rather would like it to be poison. He then stands and collects her CiD from where it lies, turns it off with more ease than should be attributed to a wizard with no knowledge of technology, and holds it out to Stephanie. Were Charity anyone else, he might shoot a challenging glance at her. However, it is Charity and regardless of her eleventh hour rescue by Baedal, in his memory he did exactly that of which he stands accused. Thus he avoids eye-contact entirely.

at least it was still a Snape account?

[controlledvariable]

"My room's just upstairs, I'll bring a doctor to you."

She's glad Severus doesn't argue, she has no interest in fighting with him just to get Charity looked after and she's perfectly capable of keeping her stable until a doctor can get to them. Which is... a problem she will deal with when she comes to it. For now, she's focusing on helping Charity stand up; Steph is stronger than she looks, and should be able to support Charity's weight well enough.

The CiD is accepted and slipped into a pocket without comment, but she shoots a suspicious glance at the vial. She has no idea what it's supposed to be and doesn't like the idea of letting Charity use it, no matter how useful the other potion had turned out to be.

But he has been helpful, and while Steph might not trust him, that doesn't mean she needs to be rude, "Thank you for your help, Severus."

[greatestofthese]

The vial Charity considers for a moment before she slips it into a pocket. She doesn't know what it is; she'll wait to examine it until she's more clear-headed. It's probably something to help, but she doesn't like taking things when she doesn't know what they are. She's always been good with potions; unless he's being tricky, it'll be identifiable to her.

She accepts Steph's hand up, and support on her way out, with a nod back to Severus; she'll be back with questions for him later, whether he likes it or not. The young woman supports her easily enough, though it is a bit of slow going for Charity herself, and they climb the stairs.

For now she reserves her words unless asked questions; she is tired, thinking is difficult, and she's still trying to work out her surroundings and whether this is even real or not.

[controlledvariable]

If it weren't for the stairs, Steph would just princess carry Charity to her room, but she wouldn't trust her balance with the extra weight, so they have to take them slowly.

She's glad she left her door unlocked; it means she doesn't have to fumble with the key, she can just open the door and walk Charity inside, sitting her down on the bed. The room is well kept, the bed made and only a few articles of clothing are lying around.

"Have you ever been given morphine before?" There's a syringe full of morphine in one of the pouches in her utility belt, but she won't give it to Charity unless she knows there won't be any ill effects.

[greatestofthese]

"Yes, fine." Not eloquent, but it'll do. It's a good question; most witches wouldn't have, but once as a young girl attending muggle primary school, she broke her leg on the playground and was rushed to the general hospital.

[controlledvariable]

"Okay good. That's good," It's been a while since she's had to practice her bedside manner, but she gives Charity a reassuring smile before she turns to the closet. Fortunately the pouches of her utility belt detach, and the three that keep first supplies in them are marked with little red crosses, so she has them off the pouch and on the bed in a few moments. They're still a little odd looking, but not quite as bad as a whole utility belt.

The syringe she pulls out is more like an epi pen than an actual syringe, but it means Steph doesn't have to fuss around with finding a vein, "This'll only hurt a little." As gently as she can, she pushes the needle into Charity's upper arm and depresses the button on top to administer the morphine.

[greatestofthese]

It'll take a while to work, but just having the morphine is a bit of a relief, though she does flinch a little bit at the needle—living in the world of magic means you don't get used to them.

"Thanks," she says, sighing. She's still working on catching up to the fact that against all odds, she seems to be safe now. "You a nurse, or something?"

[controlledvariable]

"Or something," Steph answers with a smile, carefully putting the needle away so she can dispose of it properly later, "I volunteered at a public clinic for a few years, and I spent a year in Africa working as a nurse."

"I'm going to put a splint on your fingers until you can get an x-ray. I don't want to risk moving them too much if they're broken," She wishes she had some actual finger splints, but she'd never bothered to keep them in her belt. But she's got medical tape, a credit card she doesn't need in Baedal, and a pair of scissors. With the credit card cut into strips, they'll make a decent temporary splint.