She wants them back.
So she tosses and turns and curls so tight she can feel the thin human shell on her back stretch and protest and she can feel every little tear that opens, every little virulent droplet that squeezes out and stains the back of her clothes and the wall and the blankets and the bed.
She could tear herself apart with little effort, dig her fingers into her belly and scalp and eyes and neck and chest and rip and tear and watch the sticky mess of infection splatter on the floor and watch the faces of the scientists as they tried not to be sick watching.
They are always very squeamish in her daydreams, even though in reality they are not squeamish at all.
She wants them to have weak stomachs because that is how humans are, humans are not supposed to stare down a beast ripping away at herself to scare them, humans are not supposed to rip into her themselves for samples and experimental material, humans are not supposed to build machines she cannot break and wrap them around her neck and wrists and disrupt her connection to her brothers and sisters and daughters and sons and cousins and nieces and nephews and she wants them all back the silence is deafening her and she cannot take it.
She cannot take this empty echo chamber where she cannot even hear her father's black rotting tongue whispering where it has always been, where she cannot reach out to her brother her mate her comrade and share a little part of him and feel content and feel safe, she cannot do any of these things and she can't hear herself think over the bloody empty silence in her head.
She cannot use her latent powers either, can't lift even a pencil with it, and must speak with her mouth clumsy words the human professors don't listen to anyway and the light blue is building up and it aches, it aches and there's always blue in her eyes and her mouth and her ears and her head and it buzzes and tastes like dry sick dribbles of electricity which they don't understand because they can't see the blue, Corrupted Father, the blue is the exact same blue as her child, where is her child where did she go she can't take care of herself she says, clumsy tripping words on broken human tongue, she can't put herself back together where is she, where is he, they need to be here, my sister and brother and child need to be here, she says again and nobody listens and nobody should.
Because she still wants the humans to be like her.
The Corrupted Father demands it and the humans will never understand why she wants the others back until they are like her, until the viscera and blood boils down to the essence of disease and the pain wracks them and the whispers fill their heads and they realize the only way to stop it is with brothers and sisters, be close, be together, make more and more and more and be together and more and hold them close to you and you shan't feel the burning and you shall feel their presence and you shall be content.
They do not understand and they cannot understand until they are and they do.
Scrapings and samples and syringes and scalpels and stethoscopes will not bring them any closer to the learning they need to do.
No closer.
She wants her family back, and she bites into her hand (bites clear through her hand) and barely makes an effort to spit out the human thumb and index and palm skin that came with the influx of static virus into her mouth, in fact she swallows it as it leaks from her eyes and puts the superficial wound to her mouth and takes it in and tries desperately to calm herself like some kind of human infant (that's how far she's fallen, their god is dead but their devil is locked in a laboratory so far away from her family that her mind is eating itself from the inside out) and she thinks she's going to scream, (swallows) wants to scream, (sucks sucks swallows) suck your hand like the powerless infant creature you are and
she
SCREAMS.
"The... race of beings created by the Lucia Virus... seem to be inherently social. Common children of the race allowed to gather together are near-impossible to separate, forming tight-knit groups within minutes after introduction. Adults are similar and form surprisingly close and affectionate communities faster than it takes most gathered humans to agree on a single goal. Most specimens whose danger level has led to single-occupancy confinement... do not do well, losing even the basic ability to communicate within a month."
~ Prof. Sycamore
A/N: yes hello enjoy my unexplained burst of completely out-of-context personal Missingno headcanon
as usual i will explain anything to anyone who asks
or you could all just go to my pastebin and see this load of shitte and many other terrible things long before i come across the brass balls to post them here
y'know
save time and energy
it's economics (not really)