Elena Adamenko was a competent wizard, but an excellent nurse.
And considering her last full time gig before taking on the Council's paycheck had been in Pripyat, Ukraine, spring 1986... not much phased her. But it was better to end up taking the night shift with a patient who was probably going to make it, than the frequent alternative.
Someone had to watch them, manually check pulse, listen to breathing. Even with dampening circles drawn around ever operating table and convelescent cot, it was too risky to rely on machines when your patient was a wizard.
Surgery had finished up around three, and it was half past seven now. No dips in vital signs, which was a blessing. No stirring either, but there wouldn't be, a degree of sedation was routine, after any serious injury or surgical intervention. Dampening circles helped contain magic, but history had shown that wizards, especially those who last left consciousness in the heat of battle, come come back to the waking world rather explosively if panic set in. With the amount of sutures in very delicate tissue, and bleeding risk, the last thing they needed was this one startling awake. Dosage would be lowered gradually.
But right now, Elena's shift was over, as a gentle knock came at the door. Another wizard in scrubs. She stood up, nodding at her counterpart before stretching stiffly and making her exit.
The Wardens had gotten back in just before midnight, and after yhe flurry of activity Elena was craving fresh air. She padded down the stone hall, turning a corner to see one of the Wardens still parked on a bench.
"One of yours?" She asked, removing the unlit cigarette she'd just tucked between her teeth to speak. Warden Manning looked up,
Elena shrugged, "With no complications? She'll live. It won't be pretty, but the hard part is over. Let's just say, transfusion blood supply, will need a top up."
Warden Manning nodded, "Could you get someone to fetch me? When she's up. Or, if I'm not here, get one of the other kids. Ascher."
Elena paused, cigarette nearly to her lips, trying to place the name to any of the younger Wardens that had passed through with Manning tonight. Ascher...
"Eh, great legs, lots of crying?" Elena offered, thinking on the three she'd glimpsed tonight on intake.
Manning let out a surpised snort, and nodded.
"Okay, but won't be soon", Elena warned, before escaping for her smoke break.
Night had fallen by the time Elsie could actually find her way back to herself. A few fugue moments, half awake, threads of panic and memory. Down in the dark and Hannah—
Through a haze, a thick Slavic accent attached a face she vaguely recognized warned her not to move. You're okay—Wieberstein— before the fog had taken her again. They'd repeated this conversation two more times that after noon, each time with more clarity. She'd been hurt, the rest of the team was fine. They were in—(castle Frankenstein, Elsie's mind provided for her. Nevermind that none of the people who called it that had likely ever read the novel—)
Elsie had also been warned very firmly to not try and talk for the immediate future. Something about stitches and vibration and —check how you're healing in a few days. Which made communication very difficult when nodding and head shaking was discouraged for the same reasons. And insult to injury, there was a soft foam neck brace on top of thr bandages to keep her from moving too much. Wizard Adachenko, Elsie thought her name was, had finally relented and procured a small notepad and pen, which was something at least.
Whatever painkillers had been in that iv bag were working, because nothing really...hurt. But she still felt weak and boxed in by the castles stone walls. So grey and still and quiet compared to the last things she remembered.
