EVENTS:


Rosa buzzes back. She's not quite sure *how* she's doing it, as it's very much a nonvocal method of communication, but it seems to work.

The buzzing intensifies, and changes pattern, reminding her of the ocean waves, somehow. She feels something move amid the muck, brushing against her arms.

EVENTS:


Rosa brushes back. The thing does not seem necessarily interested in wrapping around her limbs, and its movements seem more exploratory than aggressive. She senses mild confusion.


Trying to remember her dream of open waters, she buzzes the image of a large fish, swimming around. She receives back a series of - Not thoughts, necessarily, but concepts. Self-evident truths, as obvious as the necessity of breathing, or the hunger for Meat.

A pilgrimage. Unknown darknesses. Long lost family. A yearning to return, to reconquer what was lost. The patience of a thousand aeons, and a mother's sweet embrace.


The mud pit seems to grow ever warmer and more comfortable, and she learns to match the speed and pattern of her brushings to those of her conversational partner. Compared to moving on land, it feels much more natural, much less painful. The incompatibility between her form and terrestrial lifestyle begins to weigh upon her.

EVENTS:


The buzzing grows louder, as the creature seems to recognize something in Rosa. Muscular feelers brush against her torso more decisively, and, to her surprise, she feels herself sprouting tendrils of her own to reciprocate.

Images fill her mind. The fish, and her, and a thousand fish behind. And all of them swarming up the beach, like a living tide, and meeting a thousand people. And those thousand melding with the fish, as well, and singing and dancing the true rituals, in languages beyond the range of human hearing. And all were again as they should have been, since the very start.



Rosa feels herself giving in to the sensations of the mud. Rosa gains 1 Madness!

EVENTS:


This time, there is a long pause before the buzzing resumes, as if it were a message relayed from far, far away. Instead of concepts and images, it seems more... Developed, somehow. As if it had been made for a human to understand, in mimickry of her own words.


In the beggining, there was One. Then, discord. Separation. Catastrophe and war. Entombment.

One cast upon the great chasm, smothered by the ocean. Other, burnt the cataclysm.

Still, some others survive. Small, and simple, and forgetful. In time, they change, and become many, and different.

One remains, and awaits. And one day, others find it, and change again. Not One, but not Other. Can become One.

To be Other, is to fear. To not know. Not as it should be.

Not fish, nor people. Between. Not right, but not wrong. Can remain.

But. One day, know One. See birthplace. See true way. Be One."


Rosa feels her body becoming more and more plastic, the mud slowly diffusing into her flesh. It is all she can do to keep her stomach above water, as her form begins to change once again, into something more aquatic.

EVENTS:

Eigla watches aprehensively as Rosa's form begins to swim back, then crawl back onto land. She looks considerably faster and less stiff than before, which is a plus. On the other hand, there's something... Too long, and partially molten, and inhuman, about her limbs. Her tail is longer and wider than ever before, and her arms drag on the floor as she moves. At any rate, the thick layer of mud covering her body makes it quite hard to distinguish what exactly has happened to it.


Molly extends a small mechanical manipulator from her tank-like base, writing furiously on a clipboard.