EVENTS:


Rosa quickly sets to work on reattaching the head. In a few moments, the main arteries are connected once again, and her memories begin to synchronize. A wave of contentment and, almost exhilaration, begins to wash over her. Whole, once again, as she should be. A warm, pleasant feeling lingers on her body for several seconds, before slowly subsiding.


The Echoes remain in an uneasy silence, until one gathers enough courage to speak.

...Let's hope so.


Outside, the storm intensifies, strong winds rattling the heavy metal doors. Seems like you won't be leaving the hangar tonight.




_______________________________________


Meanwhile, the hands don't let go of Klimt's ankle - If anything, they tighten their grip even more. As he instinctively tries to pull away, he drags the llimbs' owner from under the bed, the rusty metal frame grinding against the floor with an unpleasant screech.


Almost entirely skinless, the creature is about the size of a large dog, and covered in pulsating, bleeding muscles. A series of deformed arms jut out of its pear-shaped body at random angles, scratching at the scabs and teeth that pockmark its backside. A spinal cords drags on the floor behind it like a tail, sporting half a head on its end, eyes and jaw connected to a brain-like mass only by dangling nerves and muscles.


Another pair of hands grabs his leg, and the abomination pulls itself ever closer.

EVENTS:

Rosa feels the Echoes stir, talking atop one another. Seems like they agree on something!

A shield needs a sword, and vice versa.
Without her? Rot, and be forgotten.
I don't care what happens to me. As long she's safe, that's all that matters.
Avenge her, or die again trying. If she's not with us, it must mean she's been destroyed. She'd never abandon us.
No, never.
She's always with us. Yes.
Yes.
She's ours. Our shield. Our Eigla.
EIGLA.
Forever.

...

Considering, how we're apparently all agreeing on this, I think this must be a pretty strong part of your memories. Hm. You really like her, don't you, Main Rosa?
Oh, good thinking, Smart Rosa! You're so good at noticing things!
Aw, it was nothing. Praise me more though, Awestruck Rosa.
Are we coming up with names now? Can I be-
BOW BEFORE THE MIGHT OF YELLING ROSA, LOWERCASE PEASANTS
...Why couldn't SHE have been the one absorbed?


_______________


Klimt, surprisingly, does not fight the abomination attached to his leg. Instead, he lets out a desperate plea, attempting to contact whatever humanity might be left in Peggy. Still, her many hands continue to pull on his leg, each spiderlike finger leaving a series as of bruises they crawl their way up his shin, holding with such force that their own bones begin to snap and detach.

The creature finally manages to wrestle him down, and bodily slams itself against his foot, folds of putrid Flesh enveloping his extremity like quicksand. Blood and bile squirt from the wound, filling the air with a revolting stench. He clenches his teeth, awaiting the inevitable pain of having a limb absorbed while still attached.


Except, it never comes. The monster seems to calm down after stabbing itself with his foot, and he feels its grip loosen. In fact - In a strange, jerky way, it seems to be petting his leg, running its myriad fingers against his knees, while slowly breathing through its unformed throat. There seems to be something in its dangling eyeballs, where once only unconscious panic could be seen. Perhaps, a wisp of understanding?

EVENTS:


There is a pause, as the Echoes talk among themselves.


Hm.
Hmmm.
Hm.
The way I see it - We already drew the short straw, one way or the other. We can't bear to be apart, and we can't become one without ceasing to, well, *be*.
So. Becoming mobile would be an improvement. While you're in control of this body, we're little more than prisoners to it. If partial separation is the price to pay to fix that... I can live with it.

Makes sense.
Yeah.
AGREED.


________________________________


Meanwhile, Klimt gently grabs Peggy off the floor, trying his best to ignore the stench of ammonia and bile, and the innards that threaten to fall down onto him. Emilia should still be asleep in the other room, maybe Kelly or Molly could supply him with-

Pat pat.

He pauses, trying to process the unfamiliar sensation. A tumorous, deformed arm seems to be giving him... headpats. At the same time, several of the fractal hands make weak thumbs-up signs, while others wrap around him in a boneless hug.
That's, unexpected.