Note: I am taking deliberate liberties with Bloodborne— most especially Rom. If you want this to be completely and totally accurate, you're looking in the wrong place.


Conditions met

Connecting...

Connection failed. Reestablishing link...

Link established. Synchronizing...

[Error] Interference detected

Running diagnostics...

Diagnostic [Error]: -͜͠҉̴"̶͝͠`̨̀'̷̶̡͢-̕͠͝_́͏*̴̀͢

Results contain incompatible data. Results archived for later analysis

Observation: Host parameters outside predictions. Querying {Hub}

...

...

No response. Querying Thinker{Hub}

Thinker{Hub} unroutable. Plotting [Path]...

[Path]: Continue observation of Host[State] until Connection possible


Her mind was growing rapidly, expanding ever outwards, gaining depth, and returning to the way it should be. She could feel the soothing weight of the ocean— of Kos, her mother— distantly, but there all the same and she yearned to be closer still.

(She couldn't scream— could hardly breathe— as she shattered. As eyes grew beneath her flesh, as spindly legs sprouted from her back, as ten tails anchored themselves at the small of her back, as pumice-like meat grew over her face and it obscured all but her mouth— and from that grew more eyes. Her sight reached too far beyond what she could handle and she was broken again, her mind akin to dust on the wind. Still, even as infection and her own blood were purged from her body, even as something thicker and unknowable took root, she clung to life.)

Her greater mind was thriving as it grew deeper and she felt the brush of her children once more. With her eyes, blessed eyes— her Insight— pointed inwards she sees It. A mind that is the entirety of its body— a mind that is old but so very young— constantly, endlessly searching for answers, a mindless curiosity at the center of its being. She wanted it.

She bid it Greetings.

(There were dozens, hundreds of minds connected to hers. Praising her, worshipping her, begging her, cursing her. She couldn't bear it— to hear their blandishments, to receive their adulation. She searched for an escape for freedom and found It. It was as if she was gazing upon a lighthouse in the distance— that promise she would safe if only she could reach it. It was cold, unfeeling, untouchable, and if she could be like that then maybe her heart would stop hurting. Maybe she would stop yearning for those halcyon days that would never return. She wanted it— more than anything.)


G̷͚̏̽͜r̵͓͉͊ë̷̡́e̴͕̟͐t̸͖̝͐̈́ï̶̲̖n̴͎̠͐̎ĝ̴̬̓s̶̮̞̓͝

[co̷̖̅m̸͇̽m̷̮̈́u̸̬̬̔n̴͈̔͝ỉ̶͍ö̸͚͉n̷̝͆?]

Translating…

[Greetings] received through anomalous connection

Query[Communion] received through anomalous Host connection

Observation: Anomalous connection displays no signs of physical or technological source

Archival: Anomalous connection assigned temporary designation {Void}

Observation: Both {Void} and Host broadcasts indicate confluent thought processes

Speculation: {Void} is cause of abnormal Host[State]

Inability to identify {Void} source precludes attempts to—

Warning: Host[State] rapidly deteriorating. {Void}[State] deteriorating. Connection deteriorating

[Path]: Merge {Void} and Host personalities. Use connection to stabilize resulting Host[State]

Risk to {self}: Minimal. Risk to Host: Moderate. Risk to {Void}: Unknown

Risk within acceptable boundaries. [Path] selected

Broadcasting…

[CONNECTION]


She stared at her reflection placidly. She'd hidden her more abnormal features beneath her veil— the same bit of arcane mastery that had allowed her to keep the lesser amygdala from sight— but there were still signs of her transformation. Her skin had taken on a sickly, almost moon-like, pallor while her eyes had gone from their old vibrant green to the almost gray color of sage. The sent of sea salt clung to her. Her expression was unchanging, frozen in place as the look of one eternally bored.

But these were minimal issues— cosmetic changes. Even if she couldn't hide them the same way she had with the remnants of her old body, they could be ignored as a whole. What troubled her was her name.

She was as much Taylor Hebert as she was Rom. As much the Byrgenwerth Spider as she was the daughter of Daniel Hebert. She felt as if she couldn't use either name then it was only fitting that she choose a different one, wasn't it?

As Rom, she was in no state to remake herself but this was a perfect opportunity— a convergence of personalities so it was only right that she took from both.

It came to her mind quickly. The only feature of her old body that was missing— truly missing— was the coldblood flowers that had grown from her back. They'd meant as close to nothing to her but that was all the better. A convergence of personalities, named for missing things which meant everything and nothing to them.

Rose.

She studied her reflection before bringing her hands to her face, prodding and smoothing and caressing her features into a beatific smile.

Yes, this was the expression that suited 'Rose'.