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Helena Wells-Quinzel is H.G. Wells (indelibleink) wrote in makebelievelog,

"Oh, I understand. Conducting tests to view the genetic crossings that could transpire across species. Those must be rather varied and unendingly interesting to study." It was certainly a notion that Helena could entertain. A part of her mind did start wandering off on that trail of thought. How could it not? Part of her was a scientist, and she was always stimulated intellectually when such topics were presented to her. Of course, she had absolutely no idea about the genetics of dragons, but it still stimulated her imagination.

A small, largely empty smile crossed Helena's face briefly. "It's alright, not many know. Actually, fairly certain Claudia is the only one currently here who knows. It is not exactly something I have vocalized." She had left Myka's name unspoken because she wasn't here any longer. And, of course, talking about her daughter was not a topic Helena bridged easily or frequently.

The question sent a pang of pain through her, but Helena knew it was an innocent question. Gwen didn't know what had happened to Christina, so Helena didn't begrudge the question. "Technically she would be one hundred and thirty today. However, she never saw her ninth birthday." Christina had been killed two months after she had turned eight. It was a loss Helena still suffered today as potently as she had one hundred and twenty-two years ago. That sense of loss was compounded today by the fact Myka had been sent home two days prior. Loss and grief were not things Helena ever handled well. She was trying not to retreat into herself, but it was immensely difficult.