She'd forged through the door like she had the doors, because what was there left to lose? She was whole, all powerful, and not at all whom she thought she was. There was nothing left to rip and so much more to take. And she had never had an issue taking before: it was how she had survived.

But then, considering her visits (not visions, not dreams, something more), was that truly the best solution? Even if her sons were not her sons, did she love them less? Even if she was only an extension of something greater, did she need to condemn this world more? Even if she was not a mother--

No. That much they couldn't take from her. Memories upon memories, those were hers. Her life, her decisions, her love and her hate and everything in between and within and without, it was not mindless data to be consumed by something distant and beyond.

And so Adelaide pulled away from the hive and clump into herself, a perfected model of what the human form had been. She was a vain writer: naturally, she wanted to be a little better than the truth if she had the decision.

There was no second thought to picking up the body she came across. In fact, it delighted her to see what actually seemed to be a dinosaur lying there like a lost child rather than a monster; there was something adorable in the image. She cradled him as mothers were wont, despite his large size, and brought him to the corners of darkness that would accept him. A life for a life, perhaps, but it was a mother's duty. Nothing more, nothing less. All hers.

But with that done, she had nothing left. It was an inevitable wait to be re-assimilated, just as...s**t. The vision from the flowers, the thorns, the hospital fog. Hadn't she literally foreseen this happening? But then...If that was true, then monsters were real. This thing could...It could eat up any shadow, good or bad, digest its information like fresh squeezed juice. And she was part of it. All of them were part of them.

All of them, yes but...her sons. If this form still possessed a heart, Adelaide's was a taut knot of vines at the thought of them. She couldn't think about it too hard when she had first manifested from the many into one, but now...Now it cut at her faster than a weed whacker. (And funny that she had been so vehement against killing the plants, flamethrowers and RPGs and gasoline to burn, rip, tear, destroy--)

What did this mean for them? Even Adelaide St. Pierre wasn't so sure she wanted to know.