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.