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It's a pitiful sight, alright. You can't even really say you were <span class="mu-i">scared</span> when IN LIMBO got up. All that's left in this cell is the withered remains of someone's dream. A poet could probably make a grand story and metaphor about this, but you?
You're here to do your job. You adjust the cheap PPE rebreather apprehensively. Lucy's wearing the old gas mask you looted instead of you. She deserves the protection more than you do, given her condition. A small piece of slime-like flesh falls off of her arm, splattering onto the floor.
"S-sorry." She stammers apologetically.
"It's fine. Let's get to work, okay?"
"M-mmh."
First things first, you need to feed IN LIMBO. You brought in a variety of random foodstuffs and drinks, alongside some batteries and fertilizer. It probably hasn't been properly fed in ages. Anything to ease its pain or to, uh, help it bloom?
You hold up some 'regular' food to where its mouth should be. While you're doing that, Lucy applies the fertilizer to the base of the WIRE FLOWERS growing out of the corpse.
The corpse greedily consumes anything you put in front of its mouth. Water, soda, bread, milk, spam, you name it. It's like
It hasn't eaten anything in decades, centuries, even. You're not going to question the logistics behind a corpse being able to eat.
Maybe it's simply a holdover from when it used to be Rolle Ann. As long as it makes it feel better.
Lucy picks up one of the batteries to see if it's drained. She immediately recoils, accidentally dropping the battery onto the floor. "S-spent. I-I think she's full now."
The air feels different, but you can't really verbalize how. The many arms poking out of the flower bed are calm and still, content to lie there after the meal you fed it.
"Good. That'll make the rest of the work we have to do easier."
Your eyes dart towards the arm that broke when the anomaly tried to pick itself back up. It's definitely fractured. It's snapped at an awkward, jagged angle. "That probably won't heal right, huh?"
"P-probably not, no, u-unless we do something about it. M-maybe the food helped?"
You check again. The broken arm IS healing itself but at a near imperceptible rate. Faster than your arm would naturally heal, but it'd take days for it to heal. Days that IN LIMBO might not have. "No. I'll get the supplies ready."
"A-alright. M-miss Rolle, this m-might hurt a little, but we're just trying to help. D-don't worry, w-we'll do our best to, uhm, treat you."
>1 SUCCESSES!
A half-forgotten memory flickers in the back of your mind. A family friend said that to someone, you think, but you can't remember to who or why. You remember hearing screaming, thrashing, and crying. It's less than a memory at this point. It's some vague remnant your neurons cobbled together out of whatever's inside your brain.
Whatever it was, you don't feel comfortable touching IN LIMBO's arm. You'll help Lucy, sure, but you'll keep your distance from IN LIMBO.
