...
It's quiet.
Unlike previous fusions, there's not much to sort out for Mary and Viviane when it comes to their knowledge and memories. The latter had already synchronized the majority of their memories nearly two days ago while sharing the another memory of the unknown "witch" — a dark-haired lady inexplicably linked to the elder slime's past, along with Merlin.
Without having the chaos of their lifetimes to sort through, they're able to focus on the foggy past that wails its way through their heart. Given Viviane's confinement, it should have been concerning to their melding minds, and yet, they feel relieved.
"I've seen many abandoned children such as yourself, little one," a voice begins, breaking through the silence of the fog.
Perhaps it is due to the presence of the so-called witch that they feel relieved upon meeting again. Although they question why she looks so big to them compared to Mary and Daniel's discovery, her motherly gaze and grape voice silences them to easement.
"So, my child," the woman continues, her smile lighting the surrounding fog. "I'll protect you as I've done for others."
It's the same words heard by Daniel and Mary, but when her hand grazes their head, they shake with new awareness of their small form. The only explanation would be that they're observers to the continuation of this scene, and through the eyes of the abandoned child, no less.
Does this imply Viviane was the wailing child all along? It must be. Otherwise, how else can they experience such a perspective?
But then, what had she lost for a piece of herself to call out for so long?
They shiver, unable to ponder further as a cold spreads through them.
"Oh dear..."
The woman halts her wet footsteps against the ground, catching their shiver beneath the blanket. Narrowing her eyes, she purses her lips in shame. "Even wrapped, you're losing so much warmth. It doesn't help that I'm lacking such, too."
Humming, she turns her head, scanning the endless abyss of moisture in the air before her mutters expose to their ears. "I wonder...is there is someone left who can offer themselves to me so that I may save this child?"
'*...offer?*' they repeat, their voices separate but unified. Uncertain, their mind can only chill to their surroundings that eat away at their life.
"Fucking monster!"
Before they could close their eyes, a hooded man breaks through the crack of the white air. His grey robes bear stains of red as he slumps forward, shaking by the hilt of a sword in his hands.
"You'll never get away with this, you hear?" He snarls. "Our goddess will surely punish you!"
Their protector blinks before widening her lips in delight. "Oh? Goodness, one of you cultists survived! Not in good shape, of course. Hmm....well, this is still fortune. In exchange for this child's health, you'll help me, right?"
"N-nonsense! I don't know what you did to the others, but that child — urgh — is our offering," he rasps, wincing at his mounting wounds. Still, he musters forward. "It's not for someone the likes of you, witch!"
Said witch sighs, placing a hand on her cheek while still holding their presence with one arm. "Dear me, this again. There's no point in convincing you otherwise, especially since I will be taking this 'offering', as you say."
In the next breath, she whispers something they can barely make out. It doesn't sound like any language they're familiar with, but there's little time to analyze her words when they feel her supporting arm drop. With it, their view tilts upward, stretching away from their former handler and wounded cultist.
"Ba...?"
However, no real fall comes. Even the baby weakly utters babble in confusion. While they are certain the woman's arms have left them, what could possibly be holding them to remain steady in the air?
Sadly, they have no way to maneuver their shivering state to check. Because this is not their body, they are forced to stare into the distant fog, as the baby would have done, listening.
"Uuuuuh...."
Of course, such a baby wouldn't understand what's going on and start whimpering without the presence of her protector. They can feel her worry over being left alone again.
But it will only be for a bit.
"T-that is...! Y-you...really are a witch! S-stay back!"
*Schip....schlurk!*
This noise...
"A-ah...ah..."
*Clang! Thump...*
It sounds like the cultist has dropped his weapon and fallen to his knees in fear.
"You...What the hell are you!?"
Most definitely fear.
"Whatever I aim to be," their guardian answers, her voice warped.
The man's next shout sets off the child to burst out crying, howling into the fog as she had been. Against the backdrop of terror, there's no mistaking its needy voice, circulating an apparent past that evaded Viviane for so long.
*SHLOORP...SCHLURK!*
But why? Isn't this a good thing for her?
"He...l..."
After all, she was being saved from those who would sacrifice a child.
*Schlip!*
...
With no certainty, it grows quiet again.
Even the baby's wail crawls to a slow, sensing something amiss. Whatever it is, their guardian comes back like nothing happened. Her sweet smile glows as she wraps their bundled form into their arms. Unlike before, however, a warmth desperately needed spreads from her body.
They feel like life has breathed itself back into them.
"There, there. Am I better?" the woman asks, her eyes soft.
Certainly, the baby's feels better, but...what changed?
... They aren't sure if they want to know.
The woman grazes their head, spreading more warmth. "Now then, we have a bit way to the castle, child, so please rest easy. Since you survived incredibly, I'll make sure you stay alive until the end of times."
She pauses, then gasps. "Ah, let's not forget to give you a name! I've held many names myself, so it's only suitable that I bestow one to such an abandoned. Given your circumstances...yes, there's only one for someone as strong-willed as you..."
Her eyes close happily. "My sweet child, *Viviane*."
She hums, holding them closely. "It comes from Latin, meaning to be alive...to survive. It's a beautiful name, isn't it?"
With that decided, she continues her trek through the fog, burying their vision into darkness of their white cloth. Feeling secured for the first time in ages, their mind soon follows the baby from exhaustion.
"As for me," she continues, her voice fading. "I hope you will grow to call me Mother, but my name around these parts is..."
...
..
.
"*Nimue.*"
The witch's voice echoes within the void of their distancing mind before light pierces through. Jerking forward, the newly bonded slime and artist open their eyes to Daniel and Anne standing in front, their brows knitted.
"Er...Mary? Viviane?" the male artist calls, stepping forward carefully. At this point, he understands they're more like a single individual now, but has no clue what to call them combined.
They blink, adjusting to their situation before inhaling. Slowly, they raise a hand to her face, crossing her fingers across her cheek.
They...no, *she* can feel. Everything from the air coming through the AC to the texture of her layered skin burns into her combined mind.
"Ah...ahaha..."
Tears of disbelief brim in her eyes as she takes in sensations on behalf of Viviane. Above all, her shared heart beats at the sight of her boy...her sweet love that is cared for endlessly by her composing parts.
"Daniel..." she breathes, now stretching her hands forward to cup his face.
The called artist shivers to the fusion's voice as he accepts her tan hands. She's lighter in skin than Marianne, but her British tone is much fuller and crisper. It's as if Viviane's peach notes are enhancing Mary's flavor. This aspect only strengthens the inverted beauty before them, who matches the elder slime's long hair with black, and a half-covered bang in line with silver.
Letting go of his breath, he relaxes and places one hand over hers on his face.
"Are you okay?" he asks, smiling.
The shared being hums, wiggling her fingers against his skin. "Yes, I think so. Even though I thought I knew how it would be based on Marianne and Vida's experience, everything still feels so...fresh."
She pauses before slipping her hand out of his grasp and down his neck, sending more goosebumps down his spine.
"And you, my love...you feel so warm."
Daniel flushes even warmer as she gazes with misty eyes. It's not as different as his mothers would show, but he understands her reaction. After all, Viviane had experienced him inside with sensations as Vida, but not out. Feeling one's self isn't as gratifying as touching another.
On that note, the fusion pulls away and switches her attention to Anne with a smile. The targeted slime flinches and backs away, protecting her cheeks.
"D-don't you dare. I know what you're thinking!"
The hybrid raises her hands in defense. "Dear sister, you can trust me, can't you?"
"I don't know if I should!"
Pouting, the fusion leans forward. Anne squeaks in turn, but before she can resist, her hands are pulled to the former's cheeks instead.
"Huh?"
"Hehe, see? It's okay. As expected, you feel cool...just like her."
Anne widens her eyes, realizing that Viviane never got the chance to know what Daniel and Mary feel when they touch them. At least in passing, through Marianne, the slime mother had already felt Viviane's cool body. Beyond that, the second part of the hybrid's words doesn't escape her.
"Like her?" she repeats, cocking her head.
The fusion blinks, then gasps, pulling away. Quickly, she clears her throat. "Ah, that's right. Well, basically, I experienced a continuation of what Daniel and Mary saw in your realm."
The artist and slime mother widen their eyes, but before they can follow up, the fusion raises a finger. "Before we discuss, there's an important matter to deal with..."
Her finger then twists to point at herself as she smiles crookedly. "What...should I call myself?"
"Ah."
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A\N: FYI, I'm doing a poll on ScribbleHub for the name choice since I figured it was a good opportunity (if not, the only chance): [Chapter 83](https://www.scribblehub.com/read/731542-my-mom-is-a-maternal-slime/chapter/1072493/)
Of course, I'll be reading comments all around, so if there are any suggestions, let me know!