no hope in the air, no hope in the water, not even for me your last serving daughter;

[cailisairgid]

Who: Nuala, Dr McCoy, NPC Hellsing aids; possibly others later.
What: Nuada's first attempt is a failure.
Where: Hellsing Guild Hall
When: Today.
Warnings: Violent injury; reference to violence; medical treatment; ping me if I missed something.

The first hint something isn't right feels quite the opposite; some faint sensation in the back of her mind that should be there, shouldn't it, some presence that is always more notable in absence. She's too occupied with her own work for that edge of determination in someone else's jaw to do more than steel her own spine, deep in conversation over the CiD and tapping a closed fountain pen against the edge of a notepad. It's routine and admittedly mostly for peace of mind on both sides -- they're circling the wagons with the advancing elections, but there's only so much anyone can do until they know what the situation is after -- which is why, later, Nuala will wish they'd been busier. That there'd been something that needed her attention and the conversation hadn't been permitted to meander over more varied subjects, that she hadn't still been on the line when, pacing her office, she'd been so violently wrenched to her knees.

She has a half-second to despair of what the grapevine is going to sound like tomorrow when the pain hits her full force and she realizes the sound she's hearing is coming from her own throat, gold blood soaking through her sleeve, her skirt, spilling down her arm and her thigh. Her short-lived cries bring her nearest aides in at a dead run, one shutting down her CiD and another dispatching someone else to fetch Dr McCoy while endeavouring to keep the princess conscious as anaphylaxis begins to set in, heart-rate rushing and leaving her no breath to scream Nuada's name.

This is going to be difficult to explain.

Comments

[cailisairgid]

"A six," she says, after a moment's thought, a furrow in her brow; Nuada's training and battle experience has long since taught her about her own high pain threshold, but coping with it doesn't mean it isn't bloody painful. "I would say-- I think it helped, whatever it is you gave me."

[aviophobia]

He nods, then checks the tricorder again, scanning her vital signs, his dark eyes flickering over the readouts. "We'll need to wait before I give you another dose. You'll feel better once you're not on the floor."