Work Text:
Mathildis looks down at the messages on her phone, and powers it off. Damaris wouldn’t understand. Love is what it is, and she does love her, but she has work to do. Standing under a street lamp, she sends up a prayer, that her mission will succeed, this time.
The world is full of sickness. There must be a way to end it, and she will find that way. At any cost, for any price. So she slides a syringe out of her bag, as she lets herself into the lab. The hour is late. She has work to do.