Wheeling Gull Isle always laughing in the midst of power

it does not. her hatred is a simmering, ever-growing thing, but it is still reasoned by logic. thus far, this woman has done nothing to earn, and so while she holds close her rage as if to protect her further, it is not directed towards this woman. still, she offers no response to the first few words; there is nothing impressive about her broken body. 

the second earned a barely-discernable nod. the dark nymph, with the seaglass eyes. without the promised doctor, hela would have likely become victim to the ghost a fever that still lurked beneath her skin. a pause, gathering breath, and then, "what is your name?"