[His grip has gotten weaker as they've slowly made their way to the woods, but the bleeding has mostly stopped. A few tubes still trickle, but they seem to have clamped themselves off to preserve what is left. Still more like a living organism than a machine, in some ways.
Whatever Sonic's opinion of the Fog is, it seems she still has whatever passes for "affection" for him. The mist creeps into his wounds, into open cavities and leaking cables, into his badly damaged speaker.
The effects are immediate, but subtle -- the raw, rough edges of his injuries smooth over, almost like they're being buffed out. The vessels and cables and tubes knit themselves back together, making something functional but certainly not attractive. It will take a real Fog or two and a good meal before he can grow back the missing chassis and other parts, but for now, at least, he's stable.]
no subject
Whatever Sonic's opinion of the Fog is, it seems she still has whatever passes for "affection" for him. The mist creeps into his wounds, into open cavities and leaking cables, into his badly damaged speaker.
The effects are immediate, but subtle -- the raw, rough edges of his injuries smooth over, almost like they're being buffed out. The vessels and cables and tubes knit themselves back together, making something functional but certainly not attractive. It will take a real Fog or two and a good meal before he can grow back the missing chassis and other parts, but for now, at least, he's stable.]