multiversallogs | two thousand years i've been awake

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two thousand years i've been awake

Who: Integra Hellsing and you.
What: I've not posted Integra in a million years.
Where: Various places.
When: Today!
Notes: Integra will be out investigating a supposedly haunted house in the district nearest Sobek Croix, Sangwine. If you are a Hellsing agent, feel free to poke the boss lady out pulling field agent shifts. If you are anybody, feel free to run into her returning back to HQ. If you are a Hellsing agent or anyone who has an appointment at Hellsing, feel free to meet her back at the ranch. Please specify what and where in your tag.
Warnings: Blud. :E

Haunted houses are not Integra's forte, to be sure, but she suspects (correctly) this is no haunted house. In time, discovers the living, chameleon organism that had grown over the basement door to hide itself, and goes about killing the damn thing. An entire basement made of flesh, covered in ever-shifted eyes and arms. At least the people it abducted were all alive, if carrying notably less blood than before.

She walks her horse back to the guild hall as the sun sets, in no mood to clean blood and gore off her horse's tack as well as all of herself. In the first floor's muck room, she goes about attempting to clean up enough to be getting on with, listening to her aid recite her messages and notes as she does.

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The point, of course, had been to find Nuala.

This time, it was easier said than done.

If there was any single disadvantage to the temporary ward-pin Nuala had given her, Anna realized too late, it was that it left her no guarantee that she would actually find the Princess, when she came seeking. At least, Nuala was not in her offices, and no other door would open to Anna's touch. (Not that she touched them very long: the locked doors gave the most uncomfortable impression -- as if they might bite.)

There wasn't much use for it, then: she would have to make her way back out. It meant a great deal of navigating corridors, the wood-paneled walls echoing the light clicking of her low heels.

Edited 2011-08-21 09:53 (UTC)

It's only by slim chance that Anna is left wandering for as long as she is - perfect timing of turning around a corner just too soon to be spotted in the midst of a shift change, and so on. But when she cruises past a service room with the door only slightly ajar, an aid pokes her head out only a moment later.

"Excuse me," the aide calls. "You look lost, can I direct you?" She pushes the door all the way open, clearly inviting Anna out of the dreary hall. (There's a faint smell of blood emanating from the room - fresh, something inhuman and unpleasant; the uniformed assistant is human and alive, and so is whomever else is in the room with her.)

Edited 2011-08-22 09:06 (UTC)

Anna has to resist the urge to wrinkle her nose at the stink of the unnatural blood -- very distracting, for blood to smell as wrong as that, and she has a brief surge of gratitude that she is no Mekhet, with their over-sharp senses.

But regardless of blood and its implications (just what had been going on in there?), it would be rude to ignore the invitation, she thinks, not to mention foolish. She's had about all she can take of labyrinthine corridors and ill-tempered doors.

"Yes, thank you - directions would be very helpful." Wearing her best politely demure expression, Anna steps inside.

The aide steps away, and Anna is met by a taller woman - standing at the other side of the room, drying her hands on a towel. With tanned skin and long pale hair, Integra Hellsing is more handsome than anything; she might look more striking or beautiful if she bothered to dress to her form or concern herself with makeup, but she doesn't. Her shirtsleeves are rolled up to her elbows, her hair is pulled back, and whatever bloody remnants are causing that smell, it's clear she's wiping it off of herself.

"Miss Demirovna," she greets, unreadable as she watches Anna through her simple wire frame glasses. (Of course she knows who Anna is.) "The Princess is in Coin's End, on a political errand. Do you have business here?"

Edited 2011-08-27 23:49 (UTC)

It takes her a moment, a split second's searching her memory and matching Nuala's description, and then Anna realizes who the tall woman is, and that it means that she needs to be on her absolute best behavior.

Prince Sir Hellsing, she's half-inclined to think, and less than half-inclined to correct the notion. Integra Hellsing is, after all, Baedal's supernatural authority, and the one to whom Anna answers. And whatever discomfort or disgust she may have felt for owing her allegiance to a mortal woman, it begins to evaporate under Integra's gaze. Mortal she might be, but kine? Absolutely not.

Anna dips her head apologetically. "I was indeed searching for Princess Nuala; I confess I was unprepared not to find her here. I am sorry for disturbing Hellsing's halls without need...Sir Hellsing."

Integra would laugh at the notion of such a title. She is a knight, but a peasant knight, descended from a Dutch madman, daughter of a prostitute. There is a true prince, royal blood and all, in Hellsing - she bears his psychic echo with a kind of violent pride. Draculea. If Anna has the eye for it, she'll see something else, too - alchemy. Integra is riddled with it. The horrorshow of bindings and connective circles don't make her a witch or give her power, but the magic - applied by someone very powerful but very inelegant, a genius with a sledgehammer - is viscerally human.

"It's hardly a disturbance." Integra pulls her gloves back on, the leather making no sound. She nods at Anna. "It was last minute. What are you meeting her for?"

Though Anna has no way of sensing the alchemy about Hellsing's leader, another thing catches her notice, like a kind of itch. An internal pause, and she realizes why: standing near Sir Integra was like standing in a church. Or what it would be like, she supposed, for Kindred without her particular...allergy to stand in a room full of unlit candles: perhaps not actively burning her, but the potential is unsettling.

Well, wasn't this going to be a wonderful conversation to have without making a fool of herself.

"May I safely assume she has told you about my...condition?" she begins, slightly hesitantly. "I had hoped to discuss long-term solutions with her."

"She has, yes." Not to violate Anna's privacy, but because such things are a necessity when concerning the head of the organization. To this end, Integra nods at her assistant, who leaves the room and shuts the door behind her. "I understand that you've been making progress, however small."

She motions to Anna, inviting her to sit down at the table - it's not fancy, certainly not anything one would find in an office here at the guild hall - but not particularly close. She's aware of the effect she can have on some vampires, something that doesn't occur in her world.

Anna's movements are graceful as she accepts the seat across from Integra: after all, she had been first and foremost a dancer, in life. As for Nuala having shared the nature of her situation with Hellsing's leader, she can hardly be offended. Not when the standard set by her previous city's Prince had been to remove her from her position and threaten her with a blood hunt. In the end, she couldn't truly blame him: they had never known a greater threat than the Fae, and she had functionally become one of the enemy. Still, the treatment she has received at Hellsing comes off very favorably indeed in comparison.

"Some small progress, yes...sir. Princess Nuala helped me at a time when I didn't even fully realize how close I was coming to being beyond help entirely. For that, she -- and Hellsing -- have earned my loyalty." Never pass up a chance to ingratiate oneself with those in power, Anna believes - especially when the sentiment is genuine. That Nuala was willing to help her when no other Fae would (and no Kindred could even begin to try) means Anna regards the princess with something between admiration and unadulterated adoration.

"But," she continues hesitantly, "after the mission in the fog I...lost my grip again. It took some quick thinking from Jones -- who I believe you've met? -- to snap me out of it." There is a bandage around her left wrist that is currently covering up the side-effects of that quick-thinking. "It's why I need to speak with the Princess again."

Edited 2011-09-03 06:00 (UTC)

Unlike Princess Nuala, Integra's motives are not so charitable; she doesn't have the means to sustain her execute across the board policy here, nor the desire to rebuild a government. Sometimes she sits back from herself and inspects the reality that the line between herself as a philanthropist and herself as a tyrant is one drawn in degrees of tactics. It concerns her less than it should. In that vein: Anna is very powerful, and thus very useful, so Integra supports her.

"I don't believe that I've met anyone named Jones," she says, "Unless you mean the woman who questioned me one night." Her voice is a little dull at that; perhaps Nuala spoke to her again. Integra didn't. But she gives herself a moment to reflect on Anna's predicament, considering. "This sort of magic is not unknown to me. I don't have my great-grandfather's skill, but I'm positive that we'll be able to find someone who can oversee it." The immediacy in which she seems to understand the issue might be surprising, all things considered.

One of those messages from her aide is that a Ki Rainmaker has an appointment and is waiting to talk to someone from Hellsing. Helpfully the aide also offers a brief description of her talent and person: heals the undead, strapping black man in casual clothing.

Integra recognizes the name - this person has been asking about, and though the Hellsing leader suspects any ranking member could answer questions, she's here and she has nothing else that requires her immediate attention. Hopefully Mr. Rainmaker isn't someone that would better benefit from Princess Nuala's touch.

She's still pulling on a black suit jacket when she arrives in the office lobby, her pants and riding books as clean as they're going to get, gloves and face washed, and her long pale hair still stubbornly straight. There's not a stitch of makeup or perfume on her, and if anything, she'll smell like harsh medical soap and the lingering gore of her provincial encounter. "Mr. Rainmaker?"

"Ms, actually." Njoki puts away her book, smiles and stands, offering a hand to shake. She seems a little stiff from sitting for a while, but totally unconcerned about the gender slip-up.

"I hope this is still a good time?"

Integra doesn't pause at all at the correction, merely nods and shakes Njoki's hand in a firm grip. "Sir Integra Hellsing." See, what does she care what people look like or go by.

"It's fine." She'd apologize for the run-around tracking anybody down, but Hellsing's personnel shuffle and the difficulty anyone might have adjusting schedules is in-house business. That they are busy, and not hiding, should be evident. "I'd invite you to sit down but you look sick of it. How can I help you?"

"I'd heard a bit about your Guild from the people in Mafaton, then learned that a good part of my cohort is already here, and while I've asked around, I'd like the official version of what you do and stand for." For someone with a good deal of experience in such matters, it's not unreasonable to notice that Ki isn't entirely your typical human. She moves differently, as if her joints aren't shaped the way a human's ought to be. It's not awkward or too smooth; just not typical.

Integra notices, but just like the title correction, said noticing doesn't appear to change how she's looking at the other woman. Her gaze is keen and watchful, hard-eyed from necessity, but generally without much in the way of judgment. (If Njoki had introduced herself as a representative of, say, the Catholic Church, it'd be another story entirely.)

"Combating supernatural threats and providing services to xenians who struggle with their abilities or other integration issues." Other employees might be a bit more flowery than that, but Integra is blunt. "I do not work with the Militia. I prioritize the safety of civilians of any species. I have no interest in interfering with the lives of any individuals who are not violent offenders."

Apparently, she's had this discussion before.

"Good." Not that Integra cares for Ki's approval, but she's got it just the same. What she's just been told roughly matches with what she's already heard from both Hellsing employees and most of the people in Mafaton. "I don't know if there's others in the city that do what I do, but if you need someone who can heal the undead, the really nasty stuff they usually can't patch themselves, I'd be glad to."

Why anyone thinks that she would have some secret looming plan... and then just tell people, and contradict her employees... well, whatever. People are permitted to be comforted by anything they like.

"My own agents are fortunately quiet sturdy." Which pretty blatantly implies she employs at least on undead agent. "If you wouldn't be opposed, I could put you on call for if anything happens to applicable civilians."

Edited 2011-08-24 06:36 (UTC)

Less that there's a secret looming plan and more that the general public view of Hellsing matches their stated goals.

"I wouldn't mind at all. If you'd like, I've a CV that I can leave with someone." Not actually a proper CV, but a list of services and abilities -- healing burns (sun, silver, otherwise), replacing limbs, eyes, etc., repairing most bloodbourne illnesses, and so on.

It's what it says on the tin. (Aside from the blackops.)

"That would be fine." And she means it; Integra, while naturally inclined to secretive behavior, is not so arrogant as to turn her nose up at more resources. They serve just as many undead and alternative civilians as living human ones.

"Miss - ah!" Shiori pelts through Sangwine, a file folder full of papers clutched under one arm. Her other arm is extended over her head, waving frantically. "Sir! Sir Hellsing! Wait!"

She catches up with her boss just before she ventures into the house. Shiori doubles over, trying to catch her breath. "I-I'm so sorry to bother you with this out here, but...oh, wow, that was quite a ways!"

... What. What?! Integra blinks, taken aback. "Miss Sakita--" she was on horseback, and Shiori ran after her?!

The taller woman steps closer, bending slightly to make sure Shiori isn't going to keel over. "I do have a CiD, Miss Sakita."

After a couple more gasping breaths, Shiori shakes her head. "It's just that these have to get signed immediately. HR didn't have them ready in time for you, but without your signature no one will get paid until next pay period."

She looks around for a surface to put the folder down on. "No one else was available," read: willing, "to bring these, so I just, ah...came."

For a moment, Integra almost has harsh words about why she wasn't informed this was running late, so she could keep an eye out for it, but decides against it. Obviously Shiori knows it's an issue, and if everyone else was hiding (either from the walk or from... Integra), then they're more deserving of scrutiny than this woman is.

So she takes the papers and puts them against her horse's saddle, and flips through the sign them.

Shiori breathes a sigh of relief as Integra starts signing the papers. She was doing fine, money-wise, but she did know some Hellsing employees who were counting on this paycheck in particular to come through on time.

She looks around idly as her boss makes headway on the papers - there's a lot of them. "What are you doing here, sir? I just heard that you would be in Sangwine on an assignment of some kind."

"It's a haunted house," she says absently, as she flips through the papers. It's.. not actually a haunted house, and she's fairly sure of that fact, and thus doesn't sound terribly concerned. With the recent series of disasters, there's been a lot of downtime, and so Integra has been more frequently taking cases on her own. "Not everyone functions well in the day. It's easier to just take care of it while I have a moment."

Since at the moment Tosh has little to fill her time other than work (and the various little projects related to work), she tends to spend a lot of her waking hours at the Guild Hall. Tonight she's made a foray into the storage area, where Integra had told her she could rummage for interesting and useful tech. She's on her way back to her workstation when she happens across the woman herself.

"Sir Integra." A pause to eye the gore staining Integra's clothes. "Is that the remnants of a fun sort of mess or an 'I'd like to wring someone's neck' sort of mess? And is there anything I can do?"

"Ms Sato," she greets, not cheerful - Integra doesn't really do cheerful - but there's a sense that she's pleased to see the other woman. She glances down at herself, wry. "Sometimes the simplest calls are the messiest ones. Just as much lurks in the daylight, unfortunately. It's fine. Are you working?"

"Don't I know it. Sometimes even worse things, because they're better at hiding and disguises."

Tosh smiles a little sheepishly and nods. "Found a couple of things in storage I thought could be salvaged and put to good use. I've got an idea for maybe converting some of our firearms to use something other than bullets, but that's really going to depend on what I can find to work with."

Despite the remains on her clothes and having a long day, Integra is immediately curious. "I've seen energy weapons, but none of them have been particularly effective for our work," she admits. "It is not the impact of bullets that we need, but iron, and silver. Elements in short supply."

Edited 2011-08-31 06:19 (UTC)

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two thousand years i've been awake

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