Helena Rosecraft
Helena remained quiet inside her cell, her breathing so faint one might almost mistake her for dead if not for the slow blinking of her eyes. She could hear what was going on outside, she could hear Kyle shouting something, as well as a few other people down the hall causing commotion. Yet she could not summon the energy to do more than feebly lift her fingers from where her hands laid on her lap. Her hair fell messily in front of her face and obscured most of her vision, though there wasn't much to see in the white room.
Some unknown amount of time passed, it's meaning lost in her overly lax state. Eventually though, they came back for her. It didn't take any more than a single guard to fetch her. The small girl couldn't have resisted much before, but now she was nothing more than an over sized rag doll, hanging loosely from the arms of the man. She could see briefly into Kyle's cell as she was carried away, and her tired eyes attempted to convey sympathy through the dull throb of fear still pounding at the back of her mind. The action was likely meaningless anyway.
When she was set down again, she was in some kind of laboratory setting, laying on a cold metal table and looking up at a bright light. An elderly gentleman leaned over her, from what she could make out likely in his late fifties or early sixties. He wore a white lab coat over a rather nice suit, reminding her of a father straight off a television show. However, he looked at her as if she was nothing more than a piece of meat, or a rotting berry left too long on the counter. Without a word, he shown a light in her eyes, then proceeded to put it away and pull out a needle and small test-tube like vial. Wiping her inner arm with a cold alcohol wipe, he proceeded to slide the sharp metal into the vein and withdraw enough blood to fill the tube before wiping the spot off again and pressing some sort of small bandage to it.
Her head rolled to the side and she watched him walk over to a counter with the sample, next to a large computer system where a younger looking lab tech was typing away. There was the whirring sound of various machines, and more time passed by without much excitement. Finally, the older man stopped and looked up at the computer silently. There was a moment of silence, and then the technician finally spoke.
"Professor this reading can't be right..." he muttered. "These are the highest compatibility levels we've seen yet but the likelihood for death... its not mathematically-"
"I understand. Consider this a new venture in our studies. I will proceed with the process, but keep it under close watch." The professor started to walk off.
"And if it starts to fail?" the tech asked after him.
"Let it happen, but leave the body until I can come to examine it."
Helena wanted to speak, better yet to scream, but her mouth simply cracked open weakly and noiselessly. She wanted to get up and run away, but she could barely even wiggle her toes. I don't want to die yet... I don't want to die here... I need Chatot...
It wasn't long before the professor returned with a large syringe filled with strange fluid with small, odd little lumps in the liquid. The needle on it was the kind that you see in nightmares and horror films, likely almost half a foot in length. The tech came over and gently lifted up her torso to a sitting position, and the professor disappeared behind her. That pinpoint, cold pain came from the back of her neck though, at the base of her skull. She could feel the pressure in her head as the contents were released, not exactly helping the slight headache she already had. It was done quickly though, and she felt wound disinfected again and that little bandage placed back on it.
Finished, the guard returned now and lifted her once more, though now her body seemed to shiver. Behind them, however, she heard the light and quick footsteps of the technician following after them. When they reached her padded cell, she was gently placed on the floor, and given some kind of shot in the upper arm. Quickly her energy seem to return, only making the shivering worse and causing her to sit up and scoot away to the far side of the cell. The tech looked on with something that might have been pity in his eyes. He spoke something quietly to the guard as he stepped out of the cell, and a short time after that he reentered the cell with food and an offering of a warm looking, black sweatshirt likely a bit too big for her.
Helena stared at the items, hugging her knees and debating what to do. Carefully, like a small, frightened animal, she crept over and picked up the sweatshirt, pulling it on and hugging it for a little bit of comfort. The food went untouched though.
{OOC: Helena's transformation process to come soon. It'll be pretty quick but likely pretty gory and rather disturbing, so be prepared and it likely won't be a good idea to read right after eating}