Darkness, never ending darkness is what permeates the forest that surrounds a strange, dull building. Something in the forest stirs to life, scanning the area with light, keen eyes. It pauses for a moment and tilts its ears forward, ensuring that nobody has entered the area. Perfect. As always. But was Sombra's scouting not always flawless? She had been made well by the group she was intended to safeguard.
Sombra takes a few moments to crane her neck and admire her soft, plush coat. Jet black fur, always maintained to a fine, glossy finish...
But then she notices it. A small rippling in her fur, that slowly begins to spread, bubbling and opening into a small pocket of fully forming eyes. Her neck slowly puffs, before rupturing and gnashing its now fully-formed, razor teeth.
/Bothersome./
She huffs and turns around, orientating herself to face the building she was guarding. Her "family", so to speak. She had devoted herself to their cause. They were the ones who had made her, albeit by controversial and unnatural means, and so...
Sombra cringes as her arm audibly splits in two, the gap between the parts quickly indenting itself with two sets of sharp fangs.
...they could /fix/ her, as well. She did not want to admit that any part of herself was flawed, though. No, no-- no matter how often her skin would flay into a dozen arms, teeth, mouths, or eyes, she would always tell herself it was a unique quirk. She was special-- oddly special -- she just needed to find a way around this.
Her forehead feels tense-- and quickly, she feels it rupture into yet more bodily atrocities. She slinks into the shadows yet again and decides to rest.
Yes-- it would definitely take some time to adjust this "quirk".
