Ekaterina Dmitrievna Kalinina
Admittedly, Ekaterina felt terrible but she didn't say anything because everybody was already counting on her to be able to cure this awful magical flu once her headache went away. At least her appearance hadn't changed at all, so there was no hint of how bad she felt. Normally, whenever she contracted something, the symptoms never hit her but then again, this wasn't a normal illness, was it? It was actually kind of an interesting sensation, being sick, and the doctor was a little troubled to find that her mind was treating it as a sort of novelty.
Of course, the very first thing she had done after intentionally exposing herself to the illness was to identify how it was affecting her powers. From what Ekaterina and her colleagues could see, what it was doing was that it was slowly overcoming her magical immunity to diseases. Which probably would have been fine if it was only this one illness but it felt like that it was actually slowly bringing her the symptoms of every other one she had ever contracted as well. Not all together, thankfully, and neither did they seem to linger for very long.
But really, Ekaterina thought this was most likely what dying felt like. Still, though she couldn't help but vocally wave off other people as they asked after her health. It was all Oh, yes, don't worry about me. I'm sure I'll be fine soon while at the same time downing an unholy amount of pills, some in combinations that should have killed her but didn't for reasons that she decided not to think of too much. Sometimes the justification of It's magic was as good as a rationale as anybody could possibly get.
She would probably be fine once she cycled through all of the symptoms she should have had in her life. Maybe she would be done by the end of day, maybe by the end of the week. There didn't seem to be a particular pattern that it was all following. For the time, Ekaterina simply sat in a plastic covered chair in a corner of the lobby, with her headscarf covering her all but her eyes and an IV stuck into her wrist. The part of her power that covered relatively isolating illnesses was still miraculously intact so she could still help any people who needed to check in.
Until then, though, she could still use her laptop to check on how her colleague's experiments with the illness were going.
Admittedly, Ekaterina felt terrible but she didn't say anything because everybody was already counting on her to be able to cure this awful magical flu once her headache went away. At least her appearance hadn't changed at all, so there was no hint of how bad she felt. Normally, whenever she contracted something, the symptoms never hit her but then again, this wasn't a normal illness, was it? It was actually kind of an interesting sensation, being sick, and the doctor was a little troubled to find that her mind was treating it as a sort of novelty.
Of course, the very first thing she had done after intentionally exposing herself to the illness was to identify how it was affecting her powers. From what Ekaterina and her colleagues could see, what it was doing was that it was slowly overcoming her magical immunity to diseases. Which probably would have been fine if it was only this one illness but it felt like that it was actually slowly bringing her the symptoms of every other one she had ever contracted as well. Not all together, thankfully, and neither did they seem to linger for very long.
But really, Ekaterina thought this was most likely what dying felt like. Still, though she couldn't help but vocally wave off other people as they asked after her health. It was all Oh, yes, don't worry about me. I'm sure I'll be fine soon while at the same time downing an unholy amount of pills, some in combinations that should have killed her but didn't for reasons that she decided not to think of too much. Sometimes the justification of It's magic was as good as a rationale as anybody could possibly get.
She would probably be fine once she cycled through all of the symptoms she should have had in her life. Maybe she would be done by the end of day, maybe by the end of the week. There didn't seem to be a particular pattern that it was all following. For the time, Ekaterina simply sat in a plastic covered chair in a corner of the lobby, with her headscarf covering her all but her eyes and an IV stuck into her wrist. The part of her power that covered relatively isolating illnesses was still miraculously intact so she could still help any people who needed to check in.
Until then, though, she could still use her laptop to check on how her colleague's experiments with the illness were going.