Simultaneously like a flower and seed. It blossoms and it takes roots. Petals extend out and reach to call attention and draw sustenance. Aiming towards the abstract. It is a rigid fractal and organic curve.
Above all, it is power, but power for what and from what it isn't clear.
The threads weave through them. Four kinds of threads, matching the four of them.
It pulls and draws scenes. Artificial bits of stories. It finds something that could be considered kinship in these false realities.
They watch the torrent of information forming and flowing around them. An adult talking to an infant in liquid form, held in a beverage container. Humanoid non-humans in the background. The question of a confused friend.
More fragments are taken. A changeling rising from a sea of iridescent light, taking humanoid form. A lizardlike humanoid in a victorian dress. Captain Kirk fending off Gorn. Julian Bashir, reaching out, hypospray and tricorder in hand.
A hand touching a face. My mind to your mind. Your thoughts to my thoughts. Our minds are merging, our minds are becoming one.
The fragments are wonderful. The fragments are terrifying. The fragments are fates. The fragments are... made into existence.