She's not even sure why she campaigned for the ping in France. Perhaps time with Myka, perhaps she just wanted to get out, perhaps she wanted to see how she'd do. There was one thing, though, one specific place that she had to go.
She is not even sure what she is doing anymore. She will arise in the morning, go through a daily routine mechanically, then spend most of her time lost in the Warehouse's labyrinth of tunnels and shelves below the streets of London.
Shaking off Myka was easier than she expected. Whether the other woman actually realized what she was intending to do or not, she let her go. Actually finding the place she needed was a bit of an adventure after losing her way, finding a parking lot, and finally being told that what she was looking for had moved half a century ago.
Hour after hour, day after day, she searched, read, explored, barely eating, barely sleeping. At first, there was a singular purpose, finding a way to get her back, getting her darling daughter back. However, after she had killed Wooley, nothing at all was left. There wasn't anything left in this world that really mattered. Innocent people would be better off if they were not made to suffer by others who did not care. Slowly, before she realized it, her research changed, expanded, intensified.
Walking into the mausoleum, she quietly scanned each crypt until she found the one she was looking for. Reaching out, she gently put a hand on the name. "Hello, my darling girl."
It did not take long before she found in an extremely old manifest, a mention of a trident. Cross-referencing that with some things that she had been reading lately about America, she realized what she had to do.
She was still standing there later, barely holding back sobs, talking almost nonsensically to Christina. She'd told her about Joshua, about what life in the twenty-first century was like, and that Wooley was back in her life. Time flew by, a few people wandered in, but left at the sight of her grief. This was her moment and her moment alone.
"This cannot keep up like this, Helena." It was Josephine who finally got through. "I do not know what you are doing, and She will not tell me, just looks scared every time I try to bring it up." She did not, could not reply, just shrugged, and disappeared. After a couple more days, it finally got through. Josephine. The Warehouse. She had to be stopped before she destroyed everything. It was not enough to take out her own pain on the innocents. She would be no better than the people she thought the world would be better without.
Eventually, she wiped the tears from her cheeks, standing up straighter. "Mummy loves you, my little girl. I always will." She pauses for a long moment, collecting her emotions. "Perhaps I can finally visit you on a regular basis. Perhaps it is finally that time."
It was easier than she thought to get in touch with the Regents. Strategically placed notes in Josephine's hand will do that. She was called in front of a group (notably missing some quite key players) and judgement was passed quickly. She was to be bronzed and kept in the Warehouse. Likely forever. Even though it was best, as the judgement was pronounced, she broke into tears. Why did it have to come to this?
All too soon, Myka came running in, Tesla drawn. Turning slowly with her hands up, she smirked, all trace of the emotion gone. "It seems we are forever destined to meet at gunpoint, Myka." Before the other woman could say anything, Helena put her hands down and strode past her. "What did you think I was doing? Did you think I'd hidden the crosspiece to the Trident on Christina's coffin?" She laughed, shaking her head at Myka's defenses. "I'm not that crass, darling. Have you read nothing about the Victorian era? Let's do go. I am absolutely famished." She would talk to Joshua later, perhaps, but for now, everything felt a bit better.
It was a few moment's work to get her contained in the bronzer. The Regent who shut the door murmured something about God having mercy on her soul, which she retorted with a sarcastic remark. As the door shut and the white fog started to engulf her, she had a flash of fear, which quickly led to a facial expression of absolute resignation. This was what had to be. The world would not end at her hand.
She is not even sure what she is doing anymore. She will arise in the morning, go through a daily routine mechanically, then spend most of her time lost in the Warehouse's labyrinth of tunnels and shelves below the streets of London.
Shaking off Myka was easier than she expected. Whether the other woman actually realized what she was intending to do or not, she let her go. Actually finding the place she needed was a bit of an adventure after losing her way, finding a parking lot, and finally being told that what she was looking for had moved half a century ago.
Hour after hour, day after day, she searched, read, explored, barely eating, barely sleeping. At first, there was a singular purpose, finding a way to get her back, getting her darling daughter back. However, after she had killed Wooley, nothing at all was left. There wasn't anything left in this world that really mattered. Innocent people would be better off if they were not made to suffer by others who did not care. Slowly, before she realized it, her research changed, expanded, intensified.
Walking into the mausoleum, she quietly scanned each crypt until she found the one she was looking for. Reaching out, she gently put a hand on the name. "Hello, my darling girl."
It did not take long before she found in an extremely old manifest, a mention of a trident. Cross-referencing that with some things that she had been reading lately about America, she realized what she had to do.
She was still standing there later, barely holding back sobs, talking almost nonsensically to Christina. She'd told her about Joshua, about what life in the twenty-first century was like, and that Wooley was back in her life. Time flew by, a few people wandered in, but left at the sight of her grief. This was her moment and her moment alone.
"This cannot keep up like this, Helena." It was Josephine who finally got through. "I do not know what you are doing, and She will not tell me, just looks scared every time I try to bring it up." She did not, could not reply, just shrugged, and disappeared. After a couple more days, it finally got through. Josephine. The Warehouse. She had to be stopped before she destroyed everything. It was not enough to take out her own pain on the innocents. She would be no better than the people she thought the world would be better without.
Eventually, she wiped the tears from her cheeks, standing up straighter. "Mummy loves you, my little girl. I always will." She pauses for a long moment, collecting her emotions. "Perhaps I can finally visit you on a regular basis. Perhaps it is finally that time."
It was easier than she thought to get in touch with the Regents. Strategically placed notes in Josephine's hand will do that. She was called in front of a group (notably missing some quite key players) and judgement was passed quickly. She was to be bronzed and kept in the Warehouse. Likely forever. Even though it was best, as the judgement was pronounced, she broke into tears. Why did it have to come to this?
All too soon, Myka came running in, Tesla drawn. Turning slowly with her hands up, she smirked, all trace of the emotion gone. "It seems we are forever destined to meet at gunpoint, Myka." Before the other woman could say anything, Helena put her hands down and strode past her. "What did you think I was doing? Did you think I'd hidden the crosspiece to the Trident on Christina's coffin?" She laughed, shaking her head at Myka's defenses. "I'm not that crass, darling. Have you read nothing about the Victorian era? Let's do go. I am absolutely famished." She would talk to Joshua later, perhaps, but for now, everything felt a bit better.
It was a few moment's work to get her contained in the bronzer. The Regent who shut the door murmured something about God having mercy on her soul, which she retorted with a sarcastic remark. As the door shut and the white fog started to engulf her, she had a flash of fear, which quickly led to a facial expression of absolute resignation. This was what had to be. The world would not end at her hand.
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