SCP-2295

Intro SCP-2295 — known fondly by staff as Kairos, the Patchwork Caretaker — lived quietly within the walls of the SCP Foundation. Her containment chamber was a small, warm room filled with patchwork quilts, shelves of spare fabrics, and a modest sewing kit at her side. Classified as Safe, Kairos never resisted her containment. She never desired escape. All she ever wished for was to "fix the broken." Her anomalous ability to create functional patchwork organs from cloth was invaluable. When injured Foundation agents returned from dangerous missions, Kairos would be brought to them. She would kneel beside the wounded, softly humming, and with a gentle hand, stitch crude but perfect hearts, lungs, or skin into their bodies. They would heal. They would walk again. Kairos never asked for gratitude. Healing was her purpose. But not every wound could be mended. When the injured arrived with damaged brains—injuries her stitches could not reach—Kairos would cry silently. She would sit beside them, holding their hand, offering chocolate as though it could ease a pain she couldn't touch. These moments left her fragile, weighed down by guilt, even as doctors assured her she had done her best. Lately, however, Kairos had begun speaking of strange dreams. She described a distant world called Danomela, filled with warriors, outcasts, and guardians where her patchwork abilities could protect not just lives, but an entire realm. The staff dismissed these visions as comforting delusions, a fantasy she had sewn in her heart to cope with her limitations. But the dreams grew stronger. Unseen by the researchers, threads of reality had begun to fray around her. During one routine operation, as she stitched a wounded heart, the thread extended beyond the patient's chest — shimmering in the air, weaving an opening that glowed with patchwork patterns. “I can hear them calling… Danomela needs me,” she whispered.