Chapter Text
The lab did not change, but it did not feel the same.
Vinestaff noticed it before anything was said, before anything was done. The hum of machinery still filled the space, steady and constant, the same as it had been since she arrived, but there was something beneath it now- something tighter, more tense. Subspace moved through the room as he always did, precise and deliberate, but there were pauses where there hadn’t been before. Brief, nearly unnoticeable moments where his attention shifted- not to her, not to his work, but outward, toward the entrance, toward something that wasn’t there. He did not speak of it. He did not acknowledge it. But it lingered in the way he handled his tools, in the exact placement of objects, in the slight sharpness to every motion.
Vinestaff stayed closer to her corner than usual, her staff resting against her shoulder as she watched him. She didn’t sit immediately. Her gaze drifted once toward the doorway before returning to him, her grip tightening slightly without realizing it. Medkit’s words hadn’t left her. They didn’t make sense- not fully- but they stayed, pressing against her thoughts in a way she couldn’t dare to let go.
Subspace stopped moving.
“Come here.”
Vinestaff straightened immediately, stepping forward without hesitation. “..Sure.”
He didn’t look at her at first, his attention still on the surface in front of him as he adjusted something along the table. “Give me your arm,” he said, his tone even, though there was something firmer beneath it than before.
She stepped closer, lifting her wooden arm as instructed. The vines remained still, the buds closed, the dark wood catching the artificial light without reacting to it. Subspace turned then, his gaze settling fully on it, sharper than it had been before. There was intent behind it now- clear, directed, no longer passive observation.
“We will be conducting a.. structured analysis,” he said. “You will remain still unless i say otherwise.”
Vinestaff nodded. “Okay.”
The first test was simple.
Subspace placed his hand against her arm, pressing lightly along the surface, testing resistance in measured increments. Vinestaff felt it immediately(why wouldn't she?), the pressure registering through the wood in a way that was both familiar and strange. It wasn’t pain, not yet- just sensation, a dull awareness that spread from where he touched. She held still, watching his movements carefully, adjusting only when he shifted her arm into a different position.
“Response remains consistent,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “No degradation under baseline pressure.”
Vinestaff didn’t respond. She wasn’t really sure if she was supposed to.
He increased the pressure gradually, pressing more firmly along the grain of the wood, his fingers tracing the natural lines as if mapping them. The sensation deepened, edging closer to discomfort, but she didn’t move. Her grip tightened slightly around her staff, her shoulders stiffening just enough to register the change.
“Do you feel this?,” he asked without looking at her.
“Yes..”
“Describe it.”
She hesitated. “...It’s there..?”
“That’s insufficient.”
Vinestaff frowned slightly, her gaze dropping to her arm. “...It feels like... pressure.. Like something pushing..? I don't know-”
Subspace nodded faintly. “Localized or distributed.?”
“...Huh?.”
“Nevermind..”
He released the pressure briefly before repositioning his hand, this time applying force more directly against a single point. Vinestaff felt the shift immediately, sharper than before, the sensation narrowing into something more focused. She adjusted her stance slightly, her body compensating without her thinking about it.
Subspace noticed.
He didn’t comment.
Instead, he reached for a tool.
Vinestaff’s attention flicked to it as he brought it into view, her grip tightening slightly again. It wasn’t large, not something that looked immediately dangerous, but it wasn’t something she recognized either. He positioned it against her arm carefully, aligning it with a section of the wood before pausing.
“Keep still.”
“I am.”
The first cut was shallow.
Vinestaff felt it instantly, sharper than the pressure before, a clean line of sensation that ran through the wood and into her awareness. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was enough to make her inhale slightly, her fingers tightening around her staff.
Subspace watched closely as the cut formed, his attention fixed on the reaction rather than the action itself. The wood split cleanly along the line, a thin fracture that exposed the inner structure before beginning to shift.
“Regeneration onset...” he murmured, watching as the edges of the cut began to draw back together. “Immediate.”
Vinestaff exhaled slowly as the sensation faded, the sharpness dulling as the structure repaired itself. She didn’t move.
Subspace made another cut.
This one slightly deeper.
The sensation followed again, stronger this time, lingering a fraction longer before the regeneration began. Vinestaff’s shoulders tensed, her stance shifting slightly, but she held still.
“How long does it persist,” he asked.
“...A few seconds.”
“Define ‘ a few seconds ‘.”
She hesitated. “...It fades when it starts to fix I guess..”
Subspace nodded again, already adjusting his approach. He made a third cut, this time at a different angle, watching how the structure responded when the damage didn’t follow the natural grain. The reaction was slightly different- slower to close, the sensation lingering longer.
Vinestaff felt that too.
Her grip tightened further, her breathing shifting slightly as she adjusted to the change. It wasn’t enough to stop. It wasn’t enough to make her whine or complain.
So she didn’t.
The tests continued.
Subspace shifted from cuts to removal, using a smaller tool to separate a thin fragment of wood from the surface of her arm. The process was precise, controlled, but the sensation was different- deeper, more present. Vinestaff felt the separation as it happened, a dull pull that sharpened at the point of detachment before easing once the piece came free.
She inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away.
Subspace held the fragment up, examining it briefly before setting it aside. “Does removal alter the baseline sensation?”
Vinestaff blinked, still focused on the space where the piece had been. She shrugs. “...It feels... empty.”
“Clarify please.”
“...Like something’s missing.”
“Pain?”
“...A little.”
He nodded, already observing the regeneration process as the missing section began to rebuild. “Noted.”
He did it again.
And again.
Each time, the sensation layered over the last. Not identical, not constant, but cumulative in a way that made it harder to separate one from the next. Vinestaff adjusted her stance more often now, small shifts in her footing, slight movements in her shoulders that she tried to minimize. She didn’t ask him to stop. She didn’t tell him it hurt.
She just stayed still..
At some point, he began testing the vines.
This was different.
When he touched them, they reacted- subtly at first, tightening slightly under his fingers, the movement almost imperceptible. When he applied pressure, they resisted in a way the wood didn’t, shifting rather than breaking.
“Reactive,” he said quietly, something unknown lingering under his tone.
Vinestaff watched his hand as he moved along them. “...They move when I feel things.”
“Define ‘feel things.’”
She hesitated. “...When I’m... not calm.. When I feel stronger emotions. The buds like to open too.. I guess not without the light though.”
Subspace didn’t respond immediately, his attention fixed on the way the vines shifted under his touch. He applied more pressure, testing their resistance, watching how they responded.
Then he cut one.
Vinestaff flinched.
It was small, but immediate, her body reacting before she could stop it. The pain was sharper than the wood- more direct, more immediate, the connection clearer.
Subspace’s gaze flicked up briefly, then back down to the vine as it began to regrow. “Increased sensitivity,” he noted.
Vinestaff steadied herself, her grip tightening again. “...It’s part of me.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t stop.
The tests continued, shifting between wood and vine, between pressure and removal, between controlled damage and observation. Vinestaff’s responses slowed gradually, her movements taking longer to settle between each action. Her breathing was uneven now, her posture more rigid as she tried to hold herself steady.. Clearly this had begun weighing on her. Such nicking pain and constant control of regenerating small patches was.. Well. It wasn't the easiest thing to sit through.
Subspace noticed.
He adjusted his methods slightly, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t.
Not yet.
He reached for a different tool.
Vinestaff’s attention flicked to it immediately, her body tensing before he even used it. There was something about it- sharper, more focused, designed for damage rather than precision.
“Remain still,” he said.
“I will..”
He positioned it carefully, aligning it with a section of her wrist before applying pressure more quickly than before.
The reaction was immediate.
The force was sharper, the damage deeper, the feeling cutting through her restraint before she could brace for it. The wood didn’t split cleanly this time- it fractured unevenly, the structure giving way in a way that sent a spike of pain through her arm, stronger than anything before.
Vinestaff let out a small yelp-
The noise made Subspace stopped instantly.
The tool was withdrawn immediately, his hand pulling back as his gaze snapped to her face instead of her arm. For a brief moment, the precision in his expression faltered, something else breaking through- something unguarded.
“...That was excessive.”
His voice was quieter now.. Hard to hear under his mask. “Sorry.”
Vinestaff didn’t respond right away. Her grip on her staff had tightened to the point where her fingers ached, her breathing uneven as she tried to steady it. “...I’m fine,” she said after a moment, though the words didn’t hold the same certainty as before.
Subspace didn’t accept it.
He stepped closer again, but his movements had changed. Slower now. Controlled in a different way. He examined the damage without applying additional force, watching how the arm struggled to repair itself this time, the process slower, less uniform.
His hand hovered for a moment before making contact again, lighter this time.
Testing, not pushing.
“We’re done.”
The statement was immediate- laced with something Vinestaff didn't know how to define.
Vinestaff blinked slightly, her posture shifting as if she hadn’t expected that. “...Okay.”
Subspace turned away briefly, retrieving materials from the table behind him. When he returned, he held bandaging supplies- not tools, not instruments. Something else, much softer.
“Hold still.”
Vinestaff nodded, though she already was.
He began wrapping her arm carefully, securing the damaged section with measured precision. The contact was different now- firm, but not forceful like before, his movements steady without the same clinical detachment moments ago. He adjusted the bandage as he worked, ensuring it held properly, reinforcing the structure as it continued to repair slowly beneath it.
Vinestaff watched him, her posture still tense, but no longer braced for impact.
She didn’t question it, knowing he likely would give her an answer anyway.
At some point, the vines along her arm shifted slightly- not fully opening, but loosening, the tension in them easing just enough to be noticeable.
Subspace saw it, but refrained from commenting.
When he finished, he pulled his hands back, his posture settling into something closer to what it had been before, though not entirely the same.
“You will not exert additional strain on it,” he said.
Vinestaff nodded. “...Alright.”
There was a pause after that.
Neither of them moved immediately, letting the silence cover over them.
The hum of the lab filled the space again, steady and constant, but the tension hadn’t left. It lingered beneath everything, quiet and unresolved, pressing at the edges of the room.. Truly, this was only the beginning, and deep down, they both knew that.