Omnes adsint, quamvis dementi, quamvis nefasti.

After long time of preparations, scheduling, and a brave enterprise lead by the Morbid Socialite to recover the necessary supplies from the far Khanate, the Roofwards expedition in search for M_____s B___d was finally ready!

The Chimeric Professor sent a note to the Socialite's home (Tularemia, as always, was such a haughty dear) proposing a time and place of the meeting, the latter being at the Station X entry checkpoint at Watchmaker's Hill, where an airship, Le Grand Détour, was waiting for them, destination Zenith.

Fortunately (or more likely due to the extremely British business pull) there is a café nearby where the Professor is waiting, luggage ready, looking happy and excited (and perhaps wider?), waiting for their good friend to come. Now these fungal croissants are magnificent, one has to be grateful of so many French people appearing around the Neath lately.

The Chimeric Professor wasn't terrified.

Which is a strange first thought to have when one wakes up in their bedroom surrounded by enough Sorrow-Spiders to form a decently-sized Council against which they'd have no hope of winning in a fight.

The Professor's mind was clear, though. They knew that the spiders weren't there to bring them harm, they are too valuable for that (at least now). Also, they know what they had to do to see them gone, and they had taken a determination. They're only a physical tool of intimidation, deployed in case the onirical one failed to get the point across in some fashion.

The thought of the Seamstress having been unable to predict the degree of failure of her dream-threat made the Professor's lips spread in a darkly delighted smile. Tene certainly was such a dear, even after what they did to nem. Curious moment to notice their shades, formerly gifted to nem, were still on their hand, firmly held like a lucky charm against the impending threat.

They reflected on this while they got off the bed and looked around the house to make certain the intruders didn't harm their pets. Luckily all of them were accounted for and scathless: Echelon too indifferent and left to its own devices, Serrik clever enough to reach for the Pale Amber and idly threaten to destroy it if any harm came its way, Delilah too part of the kin to be at risk, keeping close to the Professor as if a guard dog... And speaking of which, Noa was bound to the wall by sticky cobwebs, looking like she tried to defend the house without much of a success. A sigh of resignation escapes her exposed snout.

Calmer knowing no mourning nor revenge were in order, the Professor thought quickly. They could simply accept the Pale Amber within themself, which would render the Mycologist's good-willed effort and the un-shaping suffering useless, and thus couldn't be allowed. They could go out and kidnap some scholar of the Correspondence, there's one going bad, mad and dangerous to know every day... But they refuse to be turned into more of a monster by the Motherlings' plans. Was there any option besides those two?

Yes indeed.

Walking carefully in between the crawlerling swarm, minding not to step on the intruders when they weren't capable of getting out of the way themselves, the Professor made way to their Shaping Room, Delilah by their side, and reached to grab the nodule of Pale Amber, petting Serrik in gratitude for being well and also such a quick thinker. Echelon padded in as well, curious about the new show soon to be witnessed, apocyan eyes and lure shining bright against the faint lights of late-night London and the couple of candles the Professor deemed necessary. Noa will have to be absent of this experience, although the Professor knows she will find forgiveness in her heart.

In the Shaping Room there's a triangle of full-body mirrors, ready to admire one's results. But now they serve for planning. The Professor's hands trail their abdomen, trying to feel the organs underneath. They were born with a womb, one they didn't previously think on putting to use, afraid of passing on the family curse to a blood-related child. And even then, they didn't find the chance to shape it out of them, as if it was a memento to hold onto, or hopes for a better opportunity to arise and finally be in the situation of bestowing the gift of life... Turns out it will have to serve a slightly less wholesome purpose before that.

Such a wonderful, well-designed organ dominated by such an ill-informed mechanism of autonomous decision... Capable of holding a life other than one's own, nourishing it to independence and good health, foreign invasive tissue safely intermingling with the known old self, becoming one diffuse barrier in between two individuals. A barrier impermeable enough to prevent the distasteful result of two different organisms colliding in such an intimate way. In theory. Perhaps with a little informed help it could be that in practice.

Having taken that decision, the Professor turned towards Delilah.

"It is your time to shine in front of your kin, little dear. Take my branded apples, both of them, and sow them for me. If I am to bear anyone's children, I want them to be yours."

The following process is well-known to any londoner, luckily enough. Suffice to say the friendly Sorrow-Spider was skilled and knowledgeable enough to be careful and gentle with her master, claiming eyeball and cutting nerve in a way that could put many a surgeon to shame. While the tame beast got away to have some privacy, the now-blinded Professor organized the necessary amber for the implantation, navigating by muscle memory and alternate senses.

Once the sown eyes were returned, placed conveniently at reach of the hand, the Professor coated their arms in amber and dug their abdominal cavity open... A whole process followed, actually made easier by the lack of sight, trusting the propioceptors blindly always gave the best results. And once the future dark children so wished by the Seamstress were safely held within a pale ambered amnios, and once again hidden from the world by modified (improved) flesh.

This demonstration was enough to have the Sorrow-Spiders leave obediently, as pleased with the outcome as their mistress will be.

And the Professor? Well, they spent a moment releasing, comforting and treating Noa before returning to bed. They could remake their eyes come morning, right now they need to have a good sleep and not to think too much on what they've just done.

The coming days won't be easy at all. Maybe they should have tried with one birth first then the second instead of going forward with two at once. Maybe their hindsight should have woken up with the rest of them instead of right now. But if something can be said of the Chimeric Professor is that they learn from their mistakes.

And oh, they've had a lot of chances to learn.

The Tenebrous Wanderer has been a rare sight in the Orphanage since the very beginning. Too happy to be there compared with the other long-term residents, and leaving a trail of bright mood in sharp contrast with the gloomy shadows refusing to surrender to the light after ne passed. But today it was even worse. The very walls of the Nightmarish building caught stray vibrations of delight and excitement while the little absence hovered nir way around the aseptic corridors (yes, ne caught the custom of fusing nir lower legs with a mantle of shadows so ne just has to glide slightly above floor level, does wonders for presentation and efficient displacement), going around to perform nir tasks for the day.

There was a census to be taken on both the permanent inmates and those who appeared just for the sleep cycle. There was checking the dream-orderlies' patrols and patterns of behavior. There was an amount of time ne won't admit spent trying to map a perceived change in the building's distribution when it was actually that ne lost track of where ne was and thought it was the building's fault. There was cleaning some of the most popular rooms to host nightmares, after the dreamer got creative with self-inflicted psychological horror. There was even the chance to intercept a wayward teenager dreamer who got pressured by others to try and brave the "Nightmare Orphanage Gauntlet" by eating some special honey (ne already informed Edward, this will surely need some investigation), who ne protected from seeing something undue by silently following him, a shadow mantle blurring perception and filling every corner of whispers, every wall with scratches and every cell with rattling until he was unknowingly guided to the exit.

Now Tene was tending to the garden, radiating so much joy the little plants around were leaning towards nem. And why is that? Well, let's say Edward gave nem permission to invite the Lied Piper to the Orphanage once nir tasks for the day were finished. And that will happen very soon after a specially diligent day of eagerness-powered work. Just a few moments more! Ne is already daydreaming (as if ne ever stopped) about the moment. Ne can even almost see the Piper crossing the fence.